The subconscious mind is a powerful place. It is the layer between knowing and thinking. It is the pith on the orange of our soul.
Sometimes I will entertain a thought that is buried so deeply, I barely notice I’m thinking it. I park it, as it were, in the subconscious garage. A flicker of remembrance typically accompanies it if the thought materializes within an hour or two.
That is what happened this weekend.
As we motored down the highway, I gave thought to the spot we were going.
I want to have a cool experience, something magical, I thought. We were indeed going to a magical location: an island on Lake Constance.
The surroundings suggested an effortless kind of magic. The lake shimmered a dark blue against the steamy spring sky. Sailboats glided lazily amongst the swans and ducks. A thrust of tangy lake air rose in our nostrils as we checked into the last available camping site. As the sun sank behind the hill, I reminisced about the time I had spent on Lake Constance as a university student.
In that very moment I saw a man and his wife sitting directly in front of us on a nearby log. In a flash of recognition, I approached the duo.
They gasped as we ran into each other’s arms. We hadn’t seen each other since our university days. It had been 23 years. The couple had two children, one of whom will attend university in Freiburg this fall, the very city where I live. We laughed about life’s synchronicity and the passage of time.
We swapped stories about the last two decades of our lives in a fast-forward fashion before parting ways again. Then I remembered the subconscious parking garage and the thought I had had before reaching the island.
Life can be magical. If we think it is so. Then those thoughts become real before our very eyes.
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