What will he do.

Once there was a man who lived so far away he had no neighbors. His shadow was his best friend with whom he would dance. When the sun went down the shadow would go away. The man built a fire to bring the shadow back. The shadow carried the firewood.

It had been this way since he left the city for peace of the pasture and a simple life. His senses tuned to natural living, his clear focus on harmony, balance and seeing into the why of life.

As his feeling for and interaction with the shadow grew and developed, the shadow became more: more alive, more independant. Because of the man, the shadow stayed close like the shadow that once was, so the man would not be lonely.

Sometimes the shadow would not be there.

The man would call out, "Where are you shadow?"

The shadow would appear saying, "Here."

"Oh, you talk?"

"I talk from your desire to have a talking shadow. Let me turn around."

"Ho, you are white on the other side."

"People don't know that because the white side is always laying on something. I am not made out of stuff, I am more a reflection as are you, in a way." Considering his introduction to be a shock, the shadow softened it with humor, "Have you ever tried to peel a shadow? They are sticky. My humor is dark. Remember we are supposed to be having fun. A sad shadow is sad."

The man moved to see if the shadow moved with him. The shadow did not move.

He asked, "Do you have a name?"

"No but you can give me one if that would help you.

The man suggested, "Shade?"

"I will accept that handle but not identify with it. I am dark because you do not see me. You have been wanting to know more. I am your agent in that quest. I am the subtle part of you of which you are mostly unaware. You want understanding beyond your awareness. I communicate with you in a way that you can hear. I speak with words that are anologies, as all words are, for your understanding. There are no synchronicities but there is purposeful intent."

"Let's try something, I'll be you and you be the shadow. Empty yourself and just reflect what comes. I will help you."

Shifting, adjusting, letting go, the man became empty. Whatever he wanted to know came without even a question being asked. "That's easy," he said.

"It's always there but I feel limited by your small identity blocking the view. Identity is the plastic consciousness uses for experience. You are, we are mind expressions of a larger consciousness seeking experience within time and space. The signals received by the senses register in the brain according to the algorithm of spacialtemporal reasoning. It is not out there, it is in you."

With the last wood for the fire the shadow peeled pages from the dark bark to form a little black book. Swiftly lightning struck close shattering an Osage Orange tree. As the man opened the book wispy figures formed, "Go to the tree." Approaching slowly he saw a small bundle bound mummy-style. Pulling the loose ends revealed money, many bills, 20,000 dollars. He had money, what will he do? Dreams, desires rising, wide-eyed he looked up, all around. Quickly he turned back to the fire. With haste he goes close and feeds the money to the fire. The shadow smiled.

Endnote

Synchronicities are not accidents. Rather they are aids from our unself to ourselves when we choose to change our reality or identity. Consciousness creating reality is the central idea of current Quantum theory (fully explained in "THE GRAND BIOCENTRIC DESIGN" by Robert Lanza, MD and Matej Pavsic with Bob Berman, copyright 2020, published by BenBella) and of Jane Robert's Seth Books. You can encounter that idea in unexpected places as I did when I tuned into Sci-Fi channel to watch an episode of Star Trek: The Original Series - Shore Leave, which aired on 12/29/1966 (subtitled: Imagination comes to life, Season 1, Episode 15 written by Theodore Sturgeon).

It was near a stream of consciouness production as Gene Roddenberry sat on the scene as the show was being filmed reworking the fantasy script to keep it believable.

Some of the Enterprises crew go onto a world similar to earth but not. Perilous events happen until they discover what they see is what they imagine first. So they have to contol their mind, thinking and imagination to get what they desire. Injured Dr. McCoy is taken to a place to fix his injuries. He returns excitedly proclaiming: "There are fantastic machines that can create or do anything."

I think those machines are an anology from the unlimited abilities of the unself, always available according to what is in your mind.

Fiction is what you believe is not real. So then, what are beliefs? Many beliefs seem impossible. Beliefs spawn imagination which may be the seeds of what comes into our lives. Fiction is unrealized, imagined reality. Reality is realized fiction. Imagination goes up and down tumbling around to be formed into pictures by the program of space/time in the brain.