The Balm of Synchronicity

Events just may be grouped by their meaning.

Saturday morning, January 23, en route to Dayton, Ohio, to the campus of the University of Dayton.  My friend, the co-worker to whom I report, lost his 22-year-old son, a senior at UD.  This destination was the funeral mass, at their Immaculate Conception Chapel.

This boy, and I do not mean the description “boy” to be disparaging, this boy made the choice to be his final choice.  I say he was a boy because he denied himself, and his family, the opportunity to develop into manhood.  For whatever drove him to curtail his life, he chose to not share it with the 200 or so mourners who filled the chapel…his sister, his parents, his grandparents, extended family, friends, classmates and teachers.  He’ll remain forever that boy.

But beyond causal relationships, some events, indeed, occur in groups of similar meaning, simultaneous, but without apparent linkage in Newtonian physics. 

As I drove west on the interstate to Dayton, NPR‘s WEEKEND EDITION on the radio, I listened to a feature on Barry Black, Chaplain of the United States Senate.  I heard a recording of his reading from Kahlil Gibran’s THE PROPHET, as follows:

Your children are not your children. 

They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself. 

They come through you, but not from you, and though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts, for they have their own thoughts. 

You may house their bodies but not their souls, for their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.

Admittedly this may be a stretch of synchronicity as Carl Jung defined the concept, but my experience via the airwaves guided my grief toward closure.

About orangeacorn

We are, I believe, and everything is, in perpetual unfolding/enfolding/evolving. By surface appearances, we're in turmoil and fearfullness, but in fact our existence is on the edge of a new way, beyond the US versus THEM we have grown with. I encourage you to join me over coffee or tea in face-to-face encounters. I call this exercise, "CAFFEINE COMMUNION: Encounters with Paradigm Pioneers." I'm a Columbus, Ohio husband, father and citizen. I practice string band sounds from the ridges of Pocahontas County, West Virginia, the vortex of the ancient drone.
This entry was posted in Family & Friends, Lost Opportunities, The Un-empiracal and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to The Balm of Synchronicity

  1. Thank you for posting these beautiful words as I too love this poem and morn for this young man and for his family. I appreciated you sharing these words live and in person with our group later in the day at another event – which too seemed like synchronicity since I too had chosen a poem to honor the life of this same young man.

    Many blessings and healing to the family of this young person.

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.