Irrational Mr. Spock

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.

Related talks & stories

Fred speaking on this

A childhood nighttime visitor, a phrase he didn’t understand until years later, and a piece of his family’s history he didn’t know he was carrying.

An 1867 Brooklyn dare, a haunted corner near an old Revolutionary War fort, and a friend who never explained what he saw.

A dark New Jersey road in 1896, a decorated Civil War veteran, and the strangest first in American newspaper history.

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Cropsey

A campfire legend about a hook-handed maniac who hunted children on Staten Island — and the real, disturbing history that got tangled up in it.

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