Synchronicity is a term that people are either gung-ho about, or vehemently reject. I suppose I should mention a third group that has no clue what the word means, so let’s start with them.
Synchronicity is a term credited to Carl Jung, and it defines a simultaneous occurrence of events that are highly significant, yet have no obvious or likely connection. “Meaningful coincidence” is a simpler way to describe it.
Pretty much everyone has a good story about a bizarre coincidence. The difference between what gets labelled a synchronicity versus a coincidence is the meaning attached to the event. For the die hard skeptic, no matter how impossibly unlikely their tale of coincidence is, they will never connect anything more to it than random chance. At the opposite end of the spectrum, the overzealous New Ager sees absolutely every mundane occurrence as reason to declare synchronous incredulity to anyone who’ll listen.
I awoke this morning to another greyish day in a mostly unfamiliar little rural town where my parents live. It was warmish enough outside that I decided to don my running shoes and go explore the neighbourhood for a spell.
Running is cool not so much because of its possible health benefits, or the excuse to wear tight black spandex shorts, but because it’s the most effective meditative experience I’ve ever engaged in.
Once I start my feet moving, and a simple rhythm takes hold, it’s easy to get lost in sea of thought. At that point, one of several things happen:
Sometimes we wander through life never quite sure what the fuck to do next. We always have handfuls of ideas we think will lead us into happiness, but as we wander down our unknown roads, the incessant thoughts that roll through our foggy brains make us question and second-guess the paths we tread upon, many times crying out for us to turn around and head back to familiar or comforting landmarks to reassess our strategies.
So let me tell you a story.
Visiting family in a small town, wondering whether or not these stupid blog posts were a waste of my fucking time, I decided to go for a walk. Thunder was rolling in the distance, and rain was likely in the air, but I needed to do a little exploring. It was well past sunset, but I learned long ago that there’s no way to appreciate the light unless you’ve become familiar with the darkness. What was I looking for? What did I expect to find? I couldn’t possibly tell you. But I put my boots on and hit the streets nonetheless.
It doesn’t always happen as fast as you might like, but if you stick to something you want to accomplish, you can’t help but make progress.
After breaking my wrist last summer, and somehow letting myself get sucked into 70-hour work weeks at a job I wasn’t all that fond of, my first boating season was a bit of a bust, somewhat literally. A few times out on the water, and then it was October before I knew it.
I wouldn’t say I’ve been dicking around this summer, but I definitely haven’t pushed myself as hard as I could have when it came to my sailing ambition. I’ve spent far more hours helping my buddy work on restoring his boat, putting his trimaran in the water, messing around with our sailboat dinghy, and immersing myself in writing projects. All worthy and commendable activities which I don’t begrudge in the least, but I haven’t actually had the balls to take my own sailboat out by myself.
The adventure blog will start to get some serious action in a couple months. For the moment, I’m living on my sailboat still trying to figure out what the hell I’m doing. If interested, the full backstory is in my book, Everything is Bullshit!, click the link in my Books section. Lots of other fun and stupid shit in my inaugural publication, so tell your friends, I need to fund my insanity somehow…
The new plan is to disappear from my current location come October and return the following summer to continue renovations on the boat to make it bulletproof for the ocean. Once complete, the hardcore Travel Blog will kick into mega-high gear, as the world cruising plan is still alive and well.
There’s no real travel agenda for the winter yet, save the stipulation palm trees are involved at least 93.6 percent of the time. Jackfruit and durian would be happy staples as well. I’m considering an Ayahuasca excursion to christen the journey, as I still need to badly purge some demons in my system. After that, I dunno, maybe let the Universe bounce me around to whatever beckons. I need to find some like-minded weirdos and spiritual geniuses along the way, so any thoughts or ideas, lemme know.
History loves to tell us about how we used to live before becoming “civilized.” When our brains got big enough, and we started learning how to craft tools and weapons, our lives supposedly took a turn for the better. Living in a temperate environment probably wasn’t much of a challenge. We didn’t need clothing, food hung from the trees, and shelter only became a factor because we didn’t like getting our furry bodies soaked for hours on end when the rains came – or perhaps we did, I can’t say for sure, I wasn’t there.
The weird shit happened when we decided to explore new lands. Moving further and further away from our natural environment, the things we took for granted started becoming scarcer. The nights got colder, the fruit became less abundant, and the hot chicks, however few we brought with us, stopped putting out as often. We had to figure out new ways to keep warm, fill our bellies, and get laid. Food, fire, hunting, competition for mates – all catalysts to create radical and diverse new societies.