I’m a very rational person, who’s experienced a lifetime of incredibly irrational things.
I decided a few months ago to let myself see, enjoy, and be inspired by beautiful coincidences, my interpretation of Jungian synchronicity. I had some long talks with my therapist about it in our last sessions together.
The fictional character I felt most kinship with as a child was Mr. Spock. I taught myselt how to arch my eyebrows like Spock; I held down one eyebrow and lifted the other up, until after a few weeks I could feel the muscles in my forehead that controlled the eyebrow, and could just raise it.
His calm demeanor, which was over a sea of intense emotions, was something I could understand. He was half-human and half-Vulcan, which was also something I could identify with. I loved Star Trek because of Sulu and Uhura as well; they were some of the only heroes of color I ever saw as a child.
I was never cold like Spock could appear to be, and I could go very hot. But being calm, sometimes the most capable yet still picked on, and being quiet were traits I identified with. But Spock wasn’t really cold, either. He cared about people a lot. Another thing I could identify with.
Spock was also mystical. Like, especially in the movies and later works, Spock became more mystical and spiritual as a character as more stories got told. I was thinking about all of this last night, when I rewatched the director’s edition of Star Trek the Motion Picture (the remastered version) and also the director’s cut of Star Trek II.
I died briefly when I was 7. When I later saw Spock die on screen, it gutted me. I weirdly blamed myself for it, like somehow because I hurt myself, Spock hurt himself. Where my act was selfish, though, his was selfless. This kind of coincidence isn’t one I carry anymore. But that kind of internal blame about deaths was a trait I’d carry when other deaths happened, including the first real death I witnessed.
I know that seeing meaning in coincidence isn’t rational. There’s also a danger, of getting lost in all of it, of seeing what isn’t there – like an 8 year old who blames himself for the death of a fictional character, and a 9 year old for the death of his real life sister, and for the death of a cherished adult. Choosing to see those coincidences brought pain, loathing, and blame.
Tonight, I had several moments of synchronicity again, including a very strange and beautiful coincidence about Spain related to the last time I had a feeling like this.
The most beautiful was hearing a friend I really like and hadn’t seen in months talk at length in character about Star Trek and Star Trek II – just a nice little lucky coincidence in a show that had a bunch of those for me.
There’s a sense of awe and wonder that comes from letting yourself see those things, and letting yourself see meaning. It comes with a sense of wonder, and of gratitude. I cherish that feeling.
I’m deciding to enjoy them, and to let myself see them.
I like to think Mr. Spock would approve.