By Julie Tourangeau @julietour

“Synchronicity is an ever-present reality for those who have eyes to see.” – Carl Jung

I’ve lived enough life to know a sign from God when I see one.

My journey has always moved to the rhythm of synchronicity—sacred alignments, divine nudges, moments that unfold with a kind of spiritual precision that defies logic. So no, I don’t believe it was any coincidence that I met Robert F. Kennedy Jr. on October 7, 2023.

It wasn’t just a date on the calendar. It was the day everything shifted.

What I didn’t know at the time was that across the globe, a devastating attack by Hamas had just unfolded, igniting the latest violent chapter of the Israel-Gaza conflict. But I felt the weight of the day before I knew the headlines. There was something in the air. My soul registered it before my mind could.

And then, there was Bobby.

He spoke that day with the fire and clarity I’d come to respect him for. He talked about cutting $500 million from the military-industrial complex. About ending our involvement in foreign wars. About redirecting our energy and resources inward—toward peace, healing, sovereignty. It felt aligned with the Kennedy legacy. With truth.

But something changed.

In the weeks that followed, I watched Bobby’s tone shift. Suddenly, he was defending Israel’s military campaign, stating that any nation under similar attack would “level Gaza.” Meanwhile, over 17,000 Palestinian children have been killed since the start of the war. Children. The kind of innocent life I believe the Kennedy I followed would have spoken out for, unequivocally.

Back in 2022, at the Defeat the Mandates rally, I heard him say something that chilled me. He warned us that if a regime like the Nazis had access to today’s surveillance technology, “it would be game over.” He mentioned Anne Frank—not to diminish her suffering, but to show how much harder resistance would be in our time. He said there are some things worse than dying… like living under totalitarian rule. And if it came to that, he said he’d be willing to die with his bootstraps on.

That’s the Bobby I believed in. That’s the kind of courage that inspired so many of us.

And yet now, it seems like his boldness has softened—on foreign policy, on pharma, on the very systems he once vowed to confront.

Then there’s AIPAC.

What most people don’t realize is that back in the early ’60s, JFK’s Department of Justice ordered the American Zionist Council—the group that would later rebrand as AIPAC—to register as a foreign agent under the Foreign Agents Registration Act (FARA). The Kennedy administration gave them a deadline. They stalled. And then, just before that deadline passed… JFK was assassinated.

Shortly after, AIPAC quietly emerged, asserting it was a domestic lobby and escaping foreign agent registration. But let’s be honest—it acts on behalf of a foreign government. And it’s time we finish what JFK started. AIPAC should be treated as a foreign agent. Because that’s exactly what it is.

And here’s what makes this even more personal: Bobby’s own father, Robert F. Kennedy, was assassinated in 1968—allegedly by Sirhan Sirhan, a Palestinian man. But in 2016, RFK Jr. publicly stated that he believed Sirhan was innocent. Framed. He visited him in prison and became convinced that the official story didn’t add up. Programs like MK Ultra have since come to light—experiments in mind control, memory loss, and behavioral manipulation—and Sirhan himself has long claimed he doesn’t remember the shooting. Forensic evidence supports the idea that he wasn’t even standing in the correct position to shoot Bobby’s father from behind. Witnesses have testified there was a second shooter in the pantry. But that truth, like so many others, was buried.

But here’s where the story deepens.

We are living in a time of spiritual awakening. And it’s no accident that the name “Israel” has come to the forefront again. In early Christianity, “Israel” wasn’t just a nation. It was a name given to the people of God—those who wrestle with the divine, those who walk the path of truth. The word itself comes from “Isra” (to struggle or contend) and “El” (God). In this sense, Israel was never meant to be about borders or politics. It was always about inner transformation. A spiritual identity.

What if what we’re witnessing now—the chaos, the polarization, the war—isn’t just geopolitical?

What if it’s a test?

What if we’re being asked to wake up, to remember what the word Israel really meant before empire distorted it? To return to the path of peace, truth, and divine alignment. To see clearly what is real, and what has been manufactured.

I don’t know what kind of pressure Bobby is under behind the scenes, but I can imagine. The CIA, Israeli intelligence, the ghosts of his father’s and uncle’s deaths—all woven through this story. But I also know this:

As I walked out of that building on October 7, unsure of how to feel, unsure of what was changing in him… the sky gave me my answer.

Rainbows.

Not just one. But a sky full of them, unfolding one after another from the moment I left until the moment I pulled into my driveway—an hour and a half of color and light breaking through the clouds.

To me, rainbows have always been signs from Heaven—reminders that we are not alone, that even in our confusion, there’s covenant and presence. I believe those rainbows were a message not just to me, but to him.

Whatever Bobby is facing, I believe his ancestors are with him. I believe Heaven is with him. I believe the true spirit of Israel—the wrestlers of God, the truth seekers, the peace-makers—is still alive in him somewhere.

He said he’d die with his bootstraps on if it meant standing up to a totalitarian regime. I still believe that man exists.

And I pray he remembers who he is.

Because now more than ever, we need someone brave enough to finish what his family started.

And choose truth—even if it costs everything.