People Are Abozzos, Until We Know Them Truly

Deepak Chopra:  Indian American author and public speaker. He is an alternative medicine advocate and a promoter of popular forms of spirituality. This is a post from Deepak Chopra’s Facebook page  ( )

(QUOTE) Question:

A recent experience I had while visiting Paris has me wondering what (exactly) it was. While window shopping, I was drawn in to a pair of sandals. I said while trying them on “these look like Cleopatra sandals.” Two hours later while walking on a busy street of Paris, something fell to my feet. I picked it up. It was a Cleopatra bookmark. I kept it. Next morning, with room service, a beautiful cat walked into our room. I asked her name. Of course, Cleopatra!!! Is there some kind of explanation for this? Thank you if you can respond because I am truly astounded and CURIOUS!!!!


This is a nice experience of synchronicity and it gives you a glimpse into the marvelous in endless ways our experience of the world can be tied together. I don’t think there is any deep mystery to unravel here, I think it just shows a lighthearted peek into Nature’s workings. Your playful attitude when shopping for sandals set the cast of mind that then pulled the string of events together into a theme. (UNQUOTE)


Ever have a moment of synchronicity like that? Sometimes it’s as obscure as coming across the word “abbozo” several times in the course of a few days! It means: “a preliminary sketch…” But it’s not a word I tend to see often. I mean, I’ve done 100s if not thousands of abozzos and yet to come across the word in a memoir inspires me to look up its meaning, because it’s not a word I hear every day. And then: voila! I am watching a documentary on an artist’s lifetime achievement and there’s that word again. Later that evening, I am reading an article online and there’s abozzo again!

Like Deepak’s response above, sometimes synchronicity comes to us like this just as a lighthearted reminder that everything is connected and when we think we may be falling apart, we may indeed be on the path we are supposed to be on- everything is truly in sync.

Have you ever done a true Myers Briggs personality test?


Apparently, I am an INFJ which supposedly, only one percent of the population share with me. The INFJ stands for Introversion, Intuition, Feeling and Judging… The INFJ itself may be a result of a test that may be based on unproven theories but it’s no surprise that I received the result which sums me up as: insightful but unaware, able to grasp concepts yet obsessive about details…etc. etc.

I was looking for photos to post on Throwback Thursday, and decided to post none at all. As an adoptee, I sometimes am overwhelmingly thankful that my parents lavished so much care upon me and yet I search for ways in which I am similar to them too. Was my birth mother an INFJ too? Certainly appearance (and also personality) are a few ways in which my adoptive parents and I are very different. I decided to look for pictures I have of my birth mother and in doing so, finally decided not to post any at all.

After all, is it insensitive to members of my family if I post pictures of her? Is it wrong to be delighted that we share similar features?

And so, I posted nothing but my mind was reeling with thoughts of the mother I never knew. I’d heard a lot of bad things you see, and so having met her only a few times I didn’t know her as a fully formed person. She was…an abozzo in my mind. A preliminary sketch of who I thought she was. And then came one of those synchronistic moments you just don’t expect. I received a FB message “out of the blue” from a niece.

“I loved my Gram and great Grandmother (your mother and grandmother) so much! You look just like my Gram and also my aunt, your sister.”

she wrote…

“They visit me at least once year in my dreams when I’m troubled. Gram always had freaking dogs! She was a very kind and loving person. Very soft spoken. Very giving. She had a very rough life. I miss her a lot. I wish u could have known her. She used to tell me stories about a boy named Charlie and his fairy friends who lived in flowers. .  .  She would send me stories that she wrote out on paper…”


So there I was thinking about her when this young lady writes me and sends me this little snippet in my birth mother’s handwriting. That very day, the day I heard from my niece and I contemplated how alike my birth mother and I were after all (love of animals, soft spoken, a writer and lover of little people and telling children stories) I came across my birth mother’s first name in a novel. Incidentally, I used to tell my children stories about little people Binghamton and Thaddeus who lived under our refrigerator. I have blogged about a few little people stories here and my grandchildren often listen to my stories. We talk for hours, or I should say they are always rapt listeners: Tell me a story!

I await a parcel of mimeographed stories in the snail mail, a gift my niece is sending to me.

“Little people are real you know,” I told her. She may as well know it now- that I’m eccentric and not afraid to say so!

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