“From this day forward, until my dying breath, I will no longer believe in coincidence.”
Not long ago, my friend received a text message from a total stranger.
Logically, the interaction could have gone one of two ways: 1) Ignore the text and move on and pretend it never happened; accompanied with a brief, “Sorry, wrong number.” Or 2) Engage in random dialogue with a total stranger, not knowing anything, about anything.
My friend chose option number two.
Agreeing to converse, was probably an amalgamation of varying factors: Boredom maybe, and not having much else to do at the time. Nothing much on TV. Perhaps the result of a couple of drinks and feeling “chatty,” or perhaps something deeper than that. Maybe my friend felt compelled to communicate.
The back and forth texting occurred for quite a while. Originally the stranger opened the dialogue with a question… if I remember correctly, the words sent were, “Hey, you there?”
Having no clue whose number it originated from, and not once thinking to ask, my friend (let’s call him George), looked at the message and replied, “Yes. I’m here.”
Once that door was opened, the stranger unloaded a bunch of burdens on George. “So glad you’re there. I’m having a problem. You see, 2 days ago…”
Back and forth and back and forth they went. George pretended he was familiar with the stranger and the two communicated as if they had known each other for years. The stranger told George about how down in the dumps he was, and how since returning from over seas and done with the military tour for a time, life has been a challenge and family was distant and work was hard to come by, and the upcoming holidays are depressing, Dad and mom won’t talk to him, and George kept up the disguise and allowed the texting stranger to use him as a sounding board.
It mattered not what was sent to George. He read every word and generated a proverbial help-line for this hurting human.
After forty five minutes of texting, George eventually came clean and told the stranger he in fact dialed the wrong number and George had no clue who he was talking to.
“That’s OK.” The stranger typed back, “Talking to you has really lifted my spirits. I was trying to connect with my estranged cousin, but this turned out much better.”
“Glad I could be of service.”
“I don’t think you know how important this was to me. I was getting to the end of my rope.”
“Oh. You don’t want to do that. We’ve all been there. Start climbing that rope again no matter how bad it hurts. Never get to the end of it, only the top. Keep climbing.”
“Thank you. Tonight really changed how I see things. Be well and have a good night.”
Some would say that interaction was all coincidental. An accidental sneeze of happenstance. The quantum fibers of the chaotic universe, merging together for one singular situation within a fragment of time, where two people aligned and occupied the same space simultaneously over a great distance. An accident. A cosmic coincidence.
I can’t believe in that anymore. I can’t believe in coincidences. I don’t believe in accidents. I now believe everything happens for a reason, even if it can’t be conventionally explained. Sorry (not sorry) it’s just who I am.
That night, George was destined to speak with that stranger.
And I can’t be swayed otherwise. We can dig into the math and science all day long and it will NOT change how I feel.
It was a moment of synchronicity.
The thing that separates coincidence from synchronicity is the latter is typically described as, “meaningful coincidence.” A step above standard coincidences. Bumping into a co-worker at the grocery store is, at least to me, a standardized coincidental encounter.
“Hey, haven’t seen you in a while.” (Share a quick chuckle)
“See you in the morning. Thank goodness tomorrow’s Friday.”
Then part ways.
A meaningful coincidence is trying to call your sibling to find out what time the BBQ is on the weekend, and instead, re-connecting with a friend you haven’t seen in over a decade. For some reason, the phone number came forth from the recesses of the mind and the friend’s number was dialed, instead of family.
The friends make a lunch date and stay in contact from that moment forward. That’s a meaningful coincidence. Synchronization.
If the stranger didn’t speak to George that night, who knows what could have happened. But the fact the stranger ended the dialogue on a positive note, indicates to me it was a meaningful encounter, destined to happen, and not by accident.
For a period of time, I lived within the dimension of synchronicity. In a strange little way, I recognized it from a distance, but didn’t put much stock into it at first.
Some may think it’s a foolish philosophy and a ridiculous notion and that doesn’t really bother me. People can think whatever they desire.
It was little things at first. Numbers. Symbols. Gut feelings. A shiver or a chill running from the back of my neck to the base of my spine. Or the time I signed the paperwork to purchase my home, and five years to the exact day, I signed the paperwork to put the home back on the market.
December 12, 2007. Purchased.
December 12th, 2012. Five years to the day, it was back on the market. It was meant to happen. It was no coincidence the dates aligned.
When I first looked at Nancy’s licence plate on her truck and the numbers were almost identical to my car. 1494 PE. 1484 QE. It was almost a year before I picked up on that little gem.
Little things. Stuff that was easily dismissed as nothing really “meaningful.” Accidental sneezes. Yet, the more I dug, the more I listened and payed attention, the more I was able to easily recognize synchronicity. Even the seemingly subtle.
Out behind my family’s home, a tree was struck by lightning. Half the pine was missing and weakened. We were all convinced a strong gust of wind would bring it down. The weakened area indicated it would only fall in one direction and that direction was smack dab on top of the house. The back porch was destined to be obliterated. If the weight twisted it juuuuuust right, the slight possibility existed it would land on the walking path beside the house in a five foot area.
I was cleaning up the work shed one afternoon and the wind picked up. I could hear the groaning and creaking of the wounded tree and believed that day was the day it would fall to the ground. The tree snapped at the split and the weight twisted it just right and it missed the house by a few inches. I closed my eyes and waited to hear the disaster.
I opened my eyes after it made contact with the Earth and breathed a sigh of relief. Not one branch touched the home.
Coincidence? Sure… perhaps. The odds were, the home was going to take a hit. The felled tree didn’t make contact with the home. I can’t see that as coincidental.
When Nancy and I became closer, I heard from others from the Old Life, “You’re going too fast. You’re making the wrong decisions. Slow down. This isn’t the life for you. This new life with her is a mistake. You should be focusing on other things.”
It took a long time to figure out that I was listening to the wrong people all that time. Allowing others to live rent free in my mind and I hung on their every word. If a handful of people were saying I was doing something wrong, then it must be true… right?
Or perhaps I was never listening to myself. It wasn’t until I was able to shed and discard that Old Life did I start to listen to myself more. I started connecting with different people. The right people. Age old friends, reacquainted. New friends that were able to help me see that light at the end of the tunnel. At the time of these connections, I saw them as nothing more than coincidental encounters. The stars aligned just right that day and my world was able to open wider. Chance interactions. Happy accidents.
Little did I know it was all synchronicity. Each and every conversation. Every moment of dialogue and question asking, was meaningful to a degree which most can’t understand.
And it all started with Nancy. My guardian angel. The more time I spent with her, the less I could blink my eyes while in her presence.
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