About ten minutes ago, I was wandering around my apartment looking for something (I can’t even remember what anymore). It’s a sign of how random are the workings of my mind that i also cannot anymore remember why I was trying to remember the name of the restaurant on Biltmore Ave. where I have had some lovely times hanging out with my laptop.
I remember now! I was (for some reason I no longer remember) thinking about having tea (or juice) next Thursday with my friend Kelly McKibben at Nectar Cafe and Juice Bar on Merrimon in North Asheville. My sweet friends Tim and Pippin Boissy (it’s her birthday today – Ha, Facebook started this whole thread) opened this restaurant a few months ago and I have not even made it there. Wouldn’t it be nice if it were to become a fav new internet cafe for me? I could rotate with Green Sage/Westgate and that other restaurant on Biltmore. I felt a little wave of frustration at not being able to remember its name, but thought that probably it would eventually come to me.
Then I walked into my bedroom, still looking for that elusive something, and on the lower shelf of my nightstand, peering clearly out at me from a perch that I swear i have not looked at for months, was a brochure for the restaurant named 67 Biltmore! I took that brochure to order side dishes for my Christmas feast at Johanna and Tom’s – which I sure didn’t do, I brought a sixpack of beer. Why was that brochure still sitting there? So it could tickle my funny bone today?
When my son was in his early teens, I used to point out these synchronicities to him and refer to them as “God winking at us”. In spite of (or because of) his mom dragging him to church every Sunday, he was an early atheist. He thought this was one of the stupidest things I ever said (amidst strong competition). A few years ago (he’s now 40), he told me that now he says it sometimes to himself when he encounters this kind of uncanny coincidence.
Our atheist mind sees all these coincidences as random, the mindless careening of the billiard balls of life. The mind/ego experiences itself as separate/alone and thinks that’s true of everything. But we know better, right?
Tomorrow I’ll post a poem that a wrote a few years ago about all this. It’s called “The Whale”.