Last week I learned the word bellwether. It means one who leads – from an old word for the ram in a flock that has a bell around its neck, guiding the other silly ninnies through the mist.
Then yesterday, I read it in a book – as if the universe were teaching me the word just in time. I even took a photo to remind me. How weird is that? It happens all the time. IS it just that we notice what we have in our minds? Like falling in love with someone with purple hair and suddenly seeing purple hair everywhere. Or losing a baby and being hemmed in by blissfully pregnant people everywhere you turn. But I don’t think I would have seen the word previously and ignored it because I didn’t know its meaning. Can I have never read it before?
We absorb so much that we don’t register – humming a song you didn’t notice your colleague was whistling earlier because you’ve blocked it out after all these months. But I know what Phil is thinking and we often say the same thing at once, which I guess is just proximity. We’re growing into each other like a body on an old couch.