A Pocketful of Poesy was and is again a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog! For 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and now for 2017 and going forward, you may expect to see 365 poems every year, 366 for leap years.

but aren't they all random?

Friday, April 03, 2015

synchronicity, but

I enjoy synchronicity, but
I tend to put it down

to a sharpness of attention
brought on by the first
notice of a thing, and
the general underlying similarities
of common occurrences.

The second such
reactivates the "hey!
That's peculiar" circuit, and
primes us for further occurrences. All
the while, hundreds
of unnoticed, equally
recurrences float past

our unnoticing eyes.
I don't think this diminishes the magic.

to say that maybe a coincidence is
a coincidence. The proper response should be


closer at the world,
for all the magic we're missing.

it is in mind that it makes magic,
it is the mind that is making
these connections play -
painting raw material of the world
this way: coming all together
in gravity's sway, the world

- thick, dense, simple,
solid right through.
Built on fundamental patterns, and
the essence of these repeats,


For the most part, we are numb to it
- because it is everywhere,

all the time,
and too much
to notice. Synchronicity

occurs when some part of our mind seizes
on such a repetition as fascinating - significant.
And it makes us look for more. We look out far
and in deep, scouring
reality for further meaning

and connection.

Even if sometimes
no great lesson results,
it does wake us up. For a while,
we actively participate
in the fact that the world is magic,
before settling back into the idea that
well, magic or no,
it is also quite predictable,
and reassuringly simple.
Solid right through and through,

like a force field.

"But if we could fool them, to see their faces..."

In the case of coincidence, it is we
who play the parts of magician
and audience, and the best thing is
there really most usually is

something there to see. Something

that our mind's attention has snagged
on, something we can unravel, something
of value
that helps us understand. Or believe
we do. But to me, this something was not sent
as a sign. Not to me, not inserted
for a purpose, shoe-horned in
as a special extra
by some power with intent
to do with me. Shoe-horned in
as a special extra, in a world that is otherwise



with such special extras. No.
To me, the something was there all along
in the world,
always, but
unnoticed. The world
is positively shot through
with such things, full
of such things.

Charged with them.

Were you looking?
Did you see?

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