Sychronincidence?

On Saturday (my New York Spamalot day), something very strange happened, and I’ve been kind of unsettled ever since.

I know. It’s New York. Strange is the norm, right?

Well, yes–

(as a woman passed me going down the street yelling to the air, “You’re Napoleon, I’m Napoleon, and when we have a few drinks, we’re all Napoleons.” Of course, there is the possibility that she was talking on a hands-free cell phone that was actually connected to a live and at least semi-coherent human on the other end of the line [or would that be wave?], but that’s another post)

–but it wasn’t strange in the possible multiple-personality disorder/bipolar or stereotypical wacked-out New Yorker sense. I’m talking about strange in the beyond-logic-don’t-know-what-to-make-of-it sense.

My eyes met a complete stranger’s, and I felt something that I could best describe as electrical.

Now before anyone thinks that I just got the hots for some guy, this really wasn’t sexual (and I don’t mean love at first sight). I felt like I had some connection with this person, and to be honest, it’s still freaking me out (hey! Weird topics call for overdone and trite phrasing). I felt this strong sense of sensitivity—vulnerability—and an almost childlike sweetness. I felt profoundly touched. As this person’s eyes met mine, something about the expression made me think that we may have both felt something…perhaps, the same thing.

Many years ago, I read James Redfield’s The Celestine Prophecy. I read it more as a psychology book than as a spiritual or psychic awakening guide, but I found it fascinating. One bit of the book, however, has always stayed with me: there is no coincidence; should someone, even a total stranger, “grab” your attention, you have something to learn from that person.

Nice sentiment, but I tend to be a socially phobic wuss even under “safe” conditions. This was not a time nor a place to say anything (even though it was quite likely the one and only time we’d meet in this lifetime and [melodramatic flourish] now it’s gone forever). Then there’s the obvious. I’m not going to run up to a complete stranger and say something like, “excuse me, but did you just have a psychic jolt?” Though I want a vacation, I’d prefer not to spend it at a psychiatric facility (even if I do get to have a chat with the Napoleon lady).

So I said nothing, and kind of scurried away.

—ok. The literary repertoire is coming out here. I’m reading this back and thinking of Parzival, who screws up the whole Grail quest because he is too shy/afraid/ultra-polite to ask his uncle the Fisher King, “what is it that troubles you?” Problem is, I’m not Parzival (feeling a bit more Polonius-like lately). And what is my Grail?—

So I sit here, typing à la Doogie Howser, questioning life and connections, missed opportunities and roads not traveled. I google “connection to strangers” and I come upon a page that I read to find some solace or insight… and I reach the bottom, and I see:

“2 User(s) are reading this topic (2 Guests and 0 Anonymous Users)”

and I wonder, just wonder, if he’s on that page with me, trying to understand this same riddle.