For the past couple of weeks, my eye has continually been drawn to the digital clock in the bottom right hand corner of my computer screen at 11:11—a.m. or p.m., you can often find me here, so I have two chances a day to notice it.
Years ago, a shaggy-haired bass player named Travis told me that he and his wife set their watches to beep at 11:11. Wherever they were, whatever they were doing, they would pause and think of each other. (Travis toured a lot.) As for me, I’ve used this same computer with its digital clock for years, but 11:11 has jumped out at me only for the past couple of weeks.
Then last week, for the first time in years, I read poetry at two different open mics. On Thursday night—at the young, hip, spoken word artists’ open mic—I lined up and snagged spot #11 (out of 12). And the very next night—at the older, seasoned, lyric poets’ open mic—I arrived to find that 10 spots were already taken. Again, I was #11.
As you can see, 11:11 manifested itself. I went from noticing 11:11 to—well, being 11,11.
So naturally, I had to Google “significance of seeing 11:11.” I don’t subscribe to numerology, but I read some interesting things: Namely, digital code activates human DNA. My consciousness may be evolving to a higher plane. Synchronicities will abound. I’m not a physical being taking a spiritual journey, but a spirit having a physical experience.
A spirit having a physical experience: if you find a more compelling and concise description of human life, let me know.
But on a personal level, I would say that my 11:11 incidents have coincided with changes I’m undergoing as I go public with my second book, give readings, and start this blog. It’s unsettling but exciting: I just hope my spiraling DNA is up to the challenge.
Jodi Lundgren 