and you may find yourself
in another part of the world…
That’s East Angela Drive where it meets North 56th Way. Not in Seattle. Not Orcas Island. Not Friday Harbor. It's Scottsdale, Arizona.
That’s Angela as in Angel. Angie may be playing in the background but we are gathered here today to talk about this thing called: angel number 56.
When the universe is trying to tell you something, there's no need to do the math or run the numbers. The numbers will make themselves visible. For me, the number 56 starts popping up in street signs, digital clocks, odometers, thermostats, pressure gauges, periodic tables, chocolate-vanilla soft serve swirl cones, license plates and dream states…
…I was serving process on the San Juan County Auditor and the client paid big bucks to fly me up to Friday Harbor in a float plane. After a brief walk to the courthouse from the dock I served the documents lickety-split. Then I had 5 hours to kill before I could fly back to Seattle. My first thought was breakfast burrito and red beer, with not just tomato juice but a spicy bloody mary mix.
From the open door of the first place I passed, I heard the unmistakable notes of Angie just as I was humming and mumbling those exact lyrics to myself. Synchronistically synchronous synchronicity. The piano playing was proficient but the vocals were Angelic and Amazing. When I stepped inside, it took a second for my eyes to adjust to the darkness.
Angie
A n g i e
When will those clouds all disappear?
On the far wall I saw the piano and instantly recognized the woman playing it::: Koshalla--- wearing a Lawrence Taylor jersey with the sleeves cut off.
#56
Angie
A n g i e
Where will it lead us from here?
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