My introduction to synchronicity occurred with the history of psychology.
I was a psych major in college, but somehow I had started studying it
in high school. I suppose this came from feeling different. I
liked reading books, was quiet, went to dance class, and was simply
really good friends with a select few of my peers instead of whoring my
way into controlling the HS social scene. Whatever the reason, I found
myself research and stumbled upon Carl Jung and
his mysterious ideas. The archetypes seemed pretty obvious once you thought about it. We chronicled them in 9th grade English class via
Star Wars and
The Odyssey. Synchronicity included those odd coincidences that happened to all of us without
explanation. Everything has a dark side, and if you pretend it doesn't it will bite you in the ass. Okay. I didn't think too much more about sync until talking with the Greens and the release of the Sync Book and its Sync Event.
In January 2012 I started reading
The Sync Book at Editor Green's apartment while taking care of the Greens' feisty cat. While proud and happy for my friend, I didn't spend too much mental energy on
it other than feeling that it was cool and that I liked thinking about it
more than I liked thinking about conspiracy theories. I participated in the
Sync Event as an audience member and as the randomly chosen final
Radio8Ball guest.
Maybe in the future I'll delve into that, but suffice to say I was
initiated into the sync family. Since then I've read the
HappyCreatures blog posts, many the blogs it follows, and listened to some
42 Minutes radio shows.
The number 42? Had I even seen
the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy?
Nope. But after being notified of if its (perceived) significance, I
noticed it, absolutely, strangely. Without cable or Netflix or a lot of
expendable income, I don't watch too many television shows or movies,
to be honest. True, I do live in NY, the city that never sleeps with its
constant media barrage. But I'd always felt pretty skilled at hanging
onto the thoughts I'd recognized as my own. Then the syncs started to
hit.
I'm 24. My first home address was 204. My first NY 724... Okay, that's all mere coincidence...
I was walking to rehearsal a few days after
the Sync Event,
noting all of the street, building, and other printed media numbers. I
started to feel a little ridiculous looking around for it so I mentally
told myself, "Let it go, you are simply processing the past few days." I texted
my director when I get to our rehearsal location, a very upscale building. A
few of us practiced new choreography for an upcoming show, then went into the women's locker room for a costume fitting. Normally we
would all just change in there but a naive nanny was oblivious to the
fact that it wasn't appropriate for that old enough boy (seriously, he
was like 10...) she was taking care of to be in there. Annoyed that I had to move, I grabbed my costume and went into the clean, pretty,
spacious bathroom in this expensive building. I'm thinking about the show, the choreography, the music... But there it is, literally the writing on the wall: "
24" ."
The only thing I've ever seen scrawled onto any surface of that
building. Really? It was the last thing on my mind when I noticed
it. I wondered if it meant that I am supposed to be doing what I'm doing
in - living in NY and dancing.
I live in Manhattan. It is pretty f---ing expensive.
Naturally, as I like to hang onto my money as long as possible, I found a
good deal on a room here. The biggest problem with this room was that
the ceiling leaked. Not when it rained, but somehow internally from the
pipes above. I am on the 3rd floor, number 32. Guess what apartment
directly above me it leaked from?
Okay, so Jupiter's number, blah blah blah, Kubrick, noticing when it is 2:04, 4:20, 7:24, 12:24, etc, Numbers stamped RIGHT OVER my name and address by FedEx (see photo)... it has to fade, right? Plenty of official psychological explanations for these phenomena - confirmation bias. It is now mid-March, and the 42s seem to have
subsided. I'm on the phone telling my mom about my exciting night
of dancing in a famous NYC landmark, barely even looking around me, when
mid-sentence I stop upon noticing the giant orange "42" spray painted on
the pavement. I paused, chuckled, and continued my story...