As with every Christmas season, I have been receiving books I've requested. As with every day of the year, I'm already behind on books I have been intending to read. I'm currently undertaking everything Orson Scott Card has ever written, but because I'm kind of a slow reader due to some degree of attention deficit, that will likely take me a couple years.
Two weeks ago, I was concentrating my energies on Ender in Exile. Richie had just bought OSC's latest (Pathfinder), so that was next on my list, followed by Anne Rice's latest angel book. That would take up the next three months for sure, and that's not including my plans to continue reading The Ender series with my uncle.
Suddenly, for no reason I can identify, I dropped everything and began reading The Owlman and Others by my friend Jonathan Downes. Why in the world I chose now, halting my already ambitious reading plans, to pick up this book that had been in my possession for two years is mysterious to me, but why I would choose the Christmas season to immerse myself in the part of cryptozoology that deals with the more sinister side of the unknown is even stranger. (The Owlman is the British version of the Mothman.)
Richie and I are presently at my mom's for the Christmas holidays. Two days ago (and two weeks into my Owlman book) we received a phone call from MUFON (Mutual UFO Network) for whom we are field investigators. This was an unusual case they were assigning us to: an apparent man-bird sighting in San Antonio. MUFON does not typically address cryptid sightings, but a lady who, with her husband and son, had seen a giant man-bird flying over her neighborhood back in April had just decided to report it to MUFON.
I find it nothing short of bizarre that the report this of sighting -- the first of its type that has ever come my way -- would occur the very time I had chosen, for no known reason, to read a book on this very thing.
I cannot believe this is coincidence. As George Noory says, there is no such thing.
Naomi, I have gotten deeper in the study of Synchronicity. I think we can never find meaning in coincidences (so-called) if we dismiss them lightly. Not too long ago I ordered a used book online. It was "Cosmic Beginnings and Human Ends." Imagine the creepy feeling I had when, after opening the box it came in, I opened the book to find an inscription to the previous owner: "For Douglas...." I keep it by my bedside for reading occasional snippets before falling sleep. It has really stimulated my thinking. Because this book was For Douglas!
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