Synchronicity and Meaning (Part 1 of 3)

“Oh my gosh, I was just thinking of you!” Have you ever been party to a phone conversation in which the person on the receiving end immediately blurted this out? It would seem to be a fairly common occurrence. But does it mean anything? Is it synchronicity, or is it merely coincidence? For if there is no reason for such events, and no meaning for them to accrue, then they result in little more than “gee whiz” wonderment.

I’ve been a “student” of synchronicity for many years. By that I mean I give due consideration to apparently synchronistic phenomena whenever I happen to notice them. I appreciate the way they nudge me from my comfort zone in the rational world and open me to thinking about new possibilities for the reality I might otherwise take for granted. That said, I’m no pushover! My rational mind can’t help but analyze these potentially synchronistic occurrences before getting too excited about them. For instance, when those intriguingly timed phone calls come from my spouse, whom I think about and receive calls from on a regular basis, I’m not so overawed. Sorry, Darla!

Might apparent synchronicity be a manifestation of our, at times, overly heightened awareness? In other words, are “synchronistic events” merely the overvalued results of our brain’s capacity for pattern recognition? I say overvalued because, by the time we begin wondering about synchronicity, our meaning-making inclination has kicked into high gear. This is a possibility that my rational mind entertains. Ah, but my rational mind is not so thoroughly in control of my being that it can instantly squelch the sudden flicker of engagement I feel upon noticing some potentially synchronistic phenomena. Let me illustrate my two minds on the subject by relating a meaning-charged example that I recently experienced.

Ascent of the Blessed by Hieronymus Bosch

I awoke in the middle of the night recently with a name on the tip of my tongue. As I recall, I’d not been dreaming. I simply became conscious and began thinking of the name. The last name was Bosch, but the first name was unclear. It sounded like anonymous. Was it Euonymus? No, that’s a plant, I thought to myself. I pondered this “Euonymus Bosch” for a time. I thought he must be an artist, and I was reminded of a talk I attended some years ago. No, that was Bak, Samuel Bak. Feeling drowsy once more, and not having drawn any conclusions, I went back to sleep. Then, in the morning, while still in bed doing some stretching, I opened my phone to see that a friend had posted an image on social media of the Hieronymus Bosch painting, Ascent of the Blessed. Ah, Hieronymus! Synchronicity!

Depending on your receptivity to such things, you may or may not find this incident compelling. However, allow me to offer up some additional context. For it is the context that provides fodder for the meaning-making function of the human psyche. I’ll start with the big picture. My mother died almost exactly two years prior to this incident. It was unsettling for a number of reasons, not the least of which was the fact that her dementia had made saying a meaningful goodbye all but impossible. Over the course of some years, she’d simply faded into non-existence. My wife once asked me whether I thought she’d try to reach out to me somehow, to let me know that she’s alright. Darla has an understanding with everyone on her side of the family that she would indeed try to reach out from the “other side.” With respect to my mother, though, I had no idea. We’d had no discussions of such things.

Around the time of the second anniversary of my mother’s death, we got word that the mother of one of our coworkers was in the hospital and not doing well. And then, during the week prior to my “Euonymus Bosch” incident, we learned that “Fletch’s” mother had passed away. The date of her death was just three days after the anniversary of my mother’s passing. Pertinent to this story, for obvious reasons, is that Fletch’s last name happens to be (are you ready for it?) Boesch!

I hate to leave you hanging, but I don’t want the first installment of this post to become too long. I’ll continue my exploration of the possible meaning of this synchronistic occurrence in a follow-up. For now, though, let me simply state that the subject matter of Bosch’s Ascent of the Blessed—deceased individuals being assisted to and through a tunnel of light towards a presumably divine figure—does lend itself to interpretation as some sort of communication from my mother. Is she letting me know that all is well? I’m still processing that possibility. Another possibility is that this is not any communication from “outside” of me at all. Perhaps it’s an internal communication between my unconscious mind and my conscious self.

Could it be that this synchronistic occurrence was orchestrated by my unconscious mind to facilitate the greater wellbeing of the organism that includes my conscious self? Will my acceptance of the metaphysical reality that Bosch has represented increase my wellbeing with respect to then “knowing” that my mother is alright? Perhaps my improved wellbeing extends even further than that. I’ve reached an age where I see my own mortality with greater clarity. Would “knowing” the “truth” of Bosch’s reality allow this organism (which includes my conscious mind) to make the fullest and best use of whatever remaining days I might have? Please allow me to share my thoughts on these possibilities in a subsequent post.

In the meantime, be well!

Copyright 2023 by Mark Robert Frank