Sign. Sign. Sign. Everywhere a sign. That was quickly becoming my anthem. So many signs were coming at me, fast and furious, that I couldn't help but wonder if they were all pointing toward something. Anything. It started out as a completely normal day. I had groceries to buy, but then I found myself pulled toward the bookstore, Borders Books. I am simply incapable of walking past a bookstore without stopping in. There is something about the smell of stacked pages that makes

Today is the day. I am sitting before my typewriter, that clacking, honest confessor, asking the universe if it’s finally time to breathe life into this story. My heart says yes. It’s time to talk about the side of magic we don’t put on vision boards. We love to talk about synchronicities as if they are all sparkling breadcrumbs leading us to a field of sunflowers and effortless joy. But let me tell you something I’ve learned in the trenches of my own soul: not all growth is

We arrived. This home would be ours for the next week. I stood at the living room window, quiet in a way I rarely am. The view held me there. Red rocks stretched across the horizon, ancient and unmoved by anything I had ever worried about. Words felt unnecessary. Each morning, I carried a warm cup of Don Francisco coffee onto the balcony and sat facing those towering formations. The air felt wide and clean. I closed my eyes and settled into meditation, offering quiet gratitud

Friday arrived. The day I had been circling on the calendar, holding quietly in my chest. This was it. I sat on the balcony outside our room, wrapped in morning air, holding a warm cup of Don Francisco’s Hawaiian Hazelnut coffee J had made. The scent felt comforting, almost grounding, like something familiar before stepping into the unknown. In the distance, I noticed a sign for the Performing Arts Center. That was where the conference would unfold. I found myself wondering w

What does it feel like to follow a sign and watch the pieces of a puzzle slide quietly into place? I call it synchronicity. Follow the signs to Sedona with me as this synchronicity story unfolds in real time, one moment and one unexpected connection at a time December 2025. Phoenix. My daughter and I spent time together in the warm desert air. No coat. No gloves. No boots. Just sunshine, warmth, and open sky. After weeks of New England cold, the desert felt like a deep breath

Hi. I am Alicia. I live and work where synchronicity and mediumship meet. Synchronicity Sweetheart was born through exhaustion and truth telling. I was doing everything the medical system asked. More appointments. More labels. More pills. My body kept whispering no. My soul kept saying look elsewhere. I respect medicine for what it offers. It did not offer what I needed. I always knew I was wired differently. I sensed shifts before others felt them. I read emotion before peop

There was a period in my life when I would simply look up at the universe and say, “All right. Where are we going next?” And somehow, an answer always came. Not in a booming voice from the heavens. Nothing dramatic like that. More like little nudges. Strange invitations. Accidental meetings that did not feel accidental at all. A phone call. A bookstore. A conversation with a stranger that somehow cracked open an entirely new chapter of my life. At the time, I was not chasing

As a medium, my life is lived in the subtle. I don’t always hear the other side with my physical ears; it’s more of a subconscious hum, a frequency I tune into like a vintage radio. And if there is one thing I’ve learned about the universe, it’s that it is relentlessly playful. I was preparing for a Sunday morning service for a Spiritualist Church in Lake Pleasant, Massachusetts. When my creative well runs dry, I walk. Walking is how I pull magical cards out of the ether. I w

Mirror, mirror on the wall… how did my happy, capable self fall so far? How do I find my way back to the woman I know I am? The summer of 2001 did not arrive gently. I weighed over 270 pounds. I felt exhausted in a way sleep could not fix. My self- esteem had worn thin. Diagnoses began collecting around me like labels I did not remember choosing. Hypothyroidism. Obsessive compulsive disorder. Words meant to help explain why life felt so difficult to live inside. For five year

Standing at baggage claim at Phoenix airport again. Wasn’t I just here yesterday? I was. This time felt different. I was waiting for a friend. I stood there watching people pass, scanning faces, hoping to catch a glimpse of her in the crowd. Then suddenly I was grabbed from behind and heard the word hello. I let out a blood curdling scream, spun around, and there she was. We burst into laughter and hugged like we had known this exact moment would find us. We gathered her lugg

Following the signs to Sedona A two hour car ride through wind, rain, and cold, the kind of cold that seeps into your bones, all to reach the airport. I expected chaos. The news had warned of long TSA lines from the government shutdown. Instead, everything moved with surprising ease. Ten minutes later I was sitting quietly, letting the reality of this trip settle in. One night in Phoenix. Then Sedona. A conference. Rest. Something inside me knew this journey held more than a

It was in one such place that my synchronicity journey began. I am neurodivergent Does that mean I am abnormal? Life spun out of rhythm. I could not eat. I could not sleep. Then the opposite arrived. I ate too much. I slept too long. My body moved between extremes with no pattern I could understand. One day I felt useless. I kept asking the same question. Why can life not return to the way it was before? Back to normal. Then a quiet thought entered my mind. Was my life ever n

My intention is set. I allow life to move with no expectations. It feels magical. Things fall into place with ease. Like a well worn jacket that fits my shape. The zipper glides. The warmth holds me. The Universe plays a symphony in the background, each moment timed with precision. That is synchronicity. I do not force it. I do not challenge it. I let go. It feels frustrating at times. I want to steer it. I want to push for what I think should happen. Doing so creates

I stood in the doorway and watched everything I owned disappear into an oversized moving van. Boxes slid across the hardwood floors, their hollow sounds echoing through the rooms. What remained was more than empty space. It was the soft closing of a chapter I had built one careful piece at a time. The house was a relic. A true Sears home ordered from the Sears and Roebuck catalog in the 1930s and assembled on the land when it arrived. When we moved in, it was dark and negl

It was the summer of 2012. I was serving the Vermont State Spiritualist Association. I had been on the road for months and returned to Vermont. Fresh air. Steady energy. Emerald mountains rising in every direction. I walked up to the stage. My hands trembled. My nerves fired before I spoke. My mind filled with instructions. Do not fall. Do not shake. Look above the audience, not into their eyes. I cleared my throat and began. My lecture centered on synchronicity an

There is a quiet kind of joy that rises when you say yes to the universe. It is simple and tender. You follow the signs, you set your intention, and then you wait for that small voice within to speak. Sometimes it is faint. Sometimes it is firm. Sometimes it surprises you. I keep waiting for the dramatic thunderbolt version. It has not arrived yet, although I think it would add a bit of flair. What I do know is this. When you listen, life responds. And often it responds in wa