Robin Lieske – Angels of Synchronicity

I pictured angels here because I’d read in a big book that they’re more like mathematical prodigies cloaked in invisibility and working behind the scenes to manipulate the medium of circumstance than feathery, blissed out celestials.

So, the very notion of circumstance as being malleable to mathematical manipulation–through which potentials for growth could be teased out, differentiated and coordinated in some benignly objective way–was irresistible.

These Angels of Synchronicity are number-crunching the odds against two people that need to meet on the street below. One utilizes the desired result and the other the means of achieving it. The odds against them creating this ‘coincidence’ are 1 in 165,312 but they’re masters of circumstance and will shortly lessen them to a 1 in 2 chance. The humans in their grid have never met, have no idea they hold any potential for the other and will later marvel at how it happened.

Synchronicity, whether angel-driven or purely incidental, seems reflective of an inescapably perfect operation that yields just enough human sized holes to hook us in. Through it, possibilities tug reflexively at their murky potentials while unseen laws operate in dreamtime. You may get what you always wanted but it comes clocked full of backward motion at the most embarrassing time. Or there’s some exquisite but still depressingly banal insight arising from hardship you never wanted to grok in the first place. Coincidence provides a symbolic context that’s usually provocative of life lessons enjoined at the cusp of personal responsibility. It teaches us to become vulnerable to the present if we’re not already and learn to pay attention to remarks dropped casually by the next person in line. We gain a listening ear for what happens next.

Some of us come to view synchronicity and karma as twin forces. Shadow forces that bring up opposing tendencies and the situational opportunities to integrate them—the territorial and generous, angry and protective, perversely opinionated and receptive—in the process yielding all the stuff you actually do wrong vs the stuff you seem destined to do wrong with the full thrum of the good heart within you. Personal choices and consequences ripple through the reflective pool of shared experience subjecting others to the same opportunities. But the very stuff that can be viewed as doggedly, irredeemably human from it all ends up providing the contrast for transcendent meanings to shine through. We do share an organic experience moving us inexorably to its light and center like the flower of mazes in the next image. And we may not know what it’s spelling out between us but there’s some deep genius in how it unfolds.

Find Robin here: moonlogic.com