Ask and Ye Shall Receive: Foodie Edition

And now, the latest episode in my saga of "ask and ye shall receive" synchronicities.

Now, I'm receiving food, manna-from-Heaven-style.

* * *

I eat organic food, or I try to, anyhow. Whenever organics are available, and whenever finances allow, I opt for the good stuff (for reasons I'll leave the inquiring reader to research on their own).

However, even when organics aren't available ... they still are, sometimes. I'll explain.

One ordinary day, I was at a supermarket, stalking the produce department, when I had the thought: I'd like some onion with dinner. Then, immediately afterward: Do they carry organic onions here?

With that, I checked the nearby stall of bulk onions, and its sign, which would indicate an organic variety -- but no luck. Yet, rather than moving on (as would be logical), I approached the big, sprawling heap of non-organic onions, feeling illogically Compelled to do so.

Once there, my eyes were drawn to one particular onion in the spread. After looking closer, I stopped dead: this onion's label was different than the others.

It was an organic onion.

Ah, so they're organic but it's just not on the sign, was my initial thought. But, no: all the rest of the onions that I examined -- and I examined quite a few -- were definitely non-organic, as established clearly on their labels (which were patently unlike that on the organic odd-ball).

I double-checked the first, organic one I'd found: yep, definitely organic, as well as visibly different than its bin-mates, as to stick out like the proverbial sore thumb.

I combed the produce department, sure that there was another bin of onions somewhere, with the organic kindred of the castaway ... but, nope: no organic onions in sight.

Then, in the well-lit abundance of a supermarket produce section, I had a little reckoning: I'd not only found something in a place where that thing should not be, but I'd found it immediately after thinking of how I wanted just that thing (and doing so when I was out of viewing distance of that discovered thing, and because I'd had the genuine, independent, random desire for that thing to fill the gap in my dinner plans that night, as it were).

I'd not only found an organic onion in a store that didn't sell organic onions, I'd received that onion.

Once the synchroshock wore off and I'd rebooted myself, I returned to the store's singular bin of onions. After another check for more orphaned organics (which there weren't, from what I saw), I grabbed the miracle-onion. From what I remember, it was delicious.

* * *

Okay, I know what you're thinking (or what someone out there is thinking, no doubt): The organic onion just got mixed in with the others, probably during sorting in a shared warehouse. It was just a fluke, and you just got lucky.

Certainly a valid point, and a real possibility. Sure, it was awfully ironic that I'd Just Happen to be a man in need of an organic onion at that precise time, at that precise market (with the lone organic right on top of the wide, sprawling two-deep mound, and on the very side that I'd approached it on, no less) -- but, still, unlikely as it was, it could indeed have been chance, and I really mean that. And, yes, even when it's considered how that onion-needing man has experienced dozens upon dozens upon dozens of remarkably similar and equally unlikely such coincidences ... still, I can't 100% rule out that, indeed, I was just lucky enough to get what I wanted, when I happened to want it, and in a pretty cool way.

But then it happened again.

* * *

The scenario was almost identical: I was browsing a market's produce section when I was struck with the need to round out my dinner with a particular organic food -- and, lo and behold, I found one, despite the store not stocking an organic variety of that particular item. And, it again happened almost instantaneously, with mere seconds between my asking-thought and the food's discovery.

This time, it was an avocado rather than an onion, and in a smaller market, but otherwise, exactly the same: a lone, organic avocado in a great big bin of cheapie non-organics. Even the physical circumstances were the same: I had the thought, approached the bin immediately after, and there, right on top of the mound, directly in my line of sight, on my side of the wide sprawl, without my having to so much as shift my eyes, was my organic avocado. And, sure enough, a search of the store revealed no other organic avocados (there was another avocado bin, inside, but it too offered only non-organics).

So, for the record: not only did I experience the rather unlikely little windfall of getting that organic onion when I shouldn't have, but that same weird lightning struck twice (and, as it were, only four months later, when I've never otherwise seen organic produce in a non-organic bin, before or after).

I'm just a pretty darn lucky guy, I guess.

Ask and Ye Shall Receive (Yes ... Again ... Really ...)

First, there's some required reading. Not that this incident doesn't speak for itself; it's just more fully appreciated in the context of its predecessors.

Now, as for this latest reprise of the classical "ask and ye shall receive"-type synchronicity, it begins two months ago, in December of '15.

I was in North Carolina at the time, visiting family for Christmas. While there, I encountered my father's grey pickup truck, and had the random thought that I wouldn't mind driving a truck for a while -- not own a truck, necessarily, just toy around in one for a little bit. This wasn't a distinct "asking," really, but it was no less of a desire, however faint. Well, long story short, I had car troubles while up in NC, which necessitated a rental car after the holidays. However, when I went to pick it up, I received some news: they were out of the economy car I'd reserved (cue Seinfeld sketch), but would I take a free upgrade? Of course I would; I wasn't picky, so long as I paid the same.

My upgraded vehicle? A big slate-grey pickup truck. Just days after my random-but-distinct desire to drive just such a truck (a grey one, as it were).

* * *

For the next part of this meta-incident (and yes, there's a next part, plus a third), we skip forward to January of '16, a month later.

Again, I'll summarize: more car trouble, and I needed to travel, hence another rental car. Likewise, just before this situation arose, I'd been struck with another fanciful notion to drive a certain type of car -- an SUV this time. In fact, for the whole week prior to my new car woes, I'd had these thoughts on several occasions, usually coinciding with my encountering one of the many big, beastly SUVs out and about.

You can probably guess what happened next.

On the morning I was to pick up my next rental car (another cheapie sedan, because I still wasn't picky about what I drive, despite my sudden car-lust), I received a call: "We couldn't get ahold of the car you rented, so you're getting a free upgrade."

This upgrade: a ginormous Chevy Tahoe, an SUV if there ever was one.

* * *

Yep, lightning struck a third time.

Today, in February of '16, the situation was almost exactly the same: yet more car troubles (my "luck" with the rentals was met with an equal amount of problems with my owned vehicle, it seems), and I had a doctor's appointment I didn't dare cancel, so it was back to my friendly neighborhood car-rental folks. And, surprise surprise: they were once more out of cheap cars, and I was receiving a free upgrade, and the car was (drum roll) just the kind I'd mysteriously and suddenly gotten the hots for.

Really, it's pretty profound in itself that this situation should recur three times in as many months. But, that each time I should be struck with vague-but-distinct desires to drive just the type of car I was upgraded to, just before receiving the upgrade ... However, I'm getting ahead of myself somewhat, for this latest incident was a little different, as to be a bit more notable.

See, this time, my "I want to drive this sort of car" thought was, unlike the last two, neither vague nor broad. This time, my desired car was very specific: a Nissan 350z. And, similarly, I can tell you exactly from whence this thought emerged: I had to walk a few minutes to meet the rental driver who was to pick me up (Enterprise really does pick you up, you know), and this short walk required me to pass a property on which I've seen parked, many times, a particular Nissan 350z, which I've several times thought that I would like to drive. Thus, it was by passing this property that my old longings for a 350z were stirred.

Note that this desire surfaced 1) only before being picked up and taken to the rental agency, and 2) just before I was picked up. That is, mere minutes before I would get to the agency and learn, entirely unbeknownst to me until then, that I'd once again received a free upgrade, now to a Nissan 370z (a luxury sports car that would've cost approximately four times as much as the economy-class I'd reserved, it bears mentioning).

(Ah, the more perceptive of you are probably saying, "But it was a 370z, not a 350." That was my initial thought, too (or, at least, it was after my head stopped spinning from witnessing this trifecta of sorts). But then, tonight, I got curious and Wikipedia'd the 370z, only to find that it is the 350's successor -- that is, not a separate model, par-se, but the 350's replacement. So, practically speaking, the 370 is in essence a 350z, just of a later year.)

* * *

So, just to recap: I not only got the exact type of car I'd "wished" for, and in the most random of ways, due to circumstances entirely unknown to me and outside my control -- but it happened three times in a row, each less than a month apart.

But I'm just "lucky," right? Just a "funny coincidence," right? Right ...

More Ask and Ye Shall Receive (Faster and Faster)

Recently, I had a distinct thought: I need a new book.

Approximately a minute later, I found a book, abandoned on a random park bench.

Sound incredible, perhaps impossible (or, perhaps fictional?) Wait'll you read the circumstances in which this occurred ...

* * *

First, the context on my latest ask-and-receive adventures (in case you don't see the post immediately below this one).

As for the circumstances of the event itself, this "receipt" occurred on a pleasant winter afternoon in a city park -- a city which, as it were, I did way too much walking in, for I ended up irritating an irritable knee, leaving me unable to walk even the short distance back home. Thus, I was forced to seek out a bench, on which I collapsed and then began calling up a ride on my phone.

Halfway through, however, I stopped: I needed a new book. About to finish my current read, I needed a new one lined up. And, I needed it before I retired for the evening (gotta have my reading material, as breath).

Need a new book, I thought then. I'd planned on stopping for one on the way home, but were I to hail a ride, a stop-off wouldn't be possible (unless I wanted to pay for two rides, and just complicate the whole thing in general).

With that, I decided to try walking again, if only to a bus stop. After all, my knee had spontaneously healed up in the past, after a short rest. And so I got up, walked several feet ... and promptly winced in pain as my knee screamed out, refusing to go further.

Ultimately, I made it only as far as the next sequential bench.

And it was there that I "received": when I began to sit down, something was in my way, occupying my intended bench-space. Of course, it was a book -- and not only a book, but one that actually appealed to me, of an appropriate length and type, and of a subject matter that engaged me at this particular time (I'm really picky about my books, with my tastes changing from day to day ...). And, it bears mentioning: this book, though resting just one bench down as I'd done my silent "asking," was completely invisible to me then, being tucked out of sight behind the second bench's arm rest -- such that I couldn't possibly have seen it and been "tipped off" to its presence, even subconsciously in my peripheral vision.

In this blog's previous post, I'd said my ask-and-receives were getting faster. Well, apparently this quickening process isn't yet finished.

* * *

But wait, there's more (as there almost always is with my synchronistic experiences).

The next day, it happened again, almost exactly the same: while walking down a random street, needing to stop randomly to sip some water and adjust my bags, I sat on a random bench -- only to find another book preceding me there. Just like the first one, less than 24 hours earlier. Déjà vu, big time.

Though, it wasn't exactly the same, for this time my discovery was not asked for; instead, I just ... found another book. All the same, it still makes me wonder: was this also a synchronistic incident, just of another kind? That is, perhaps rather than being a second "ask and receive"-type of incident, this one was, simply, a recurrence of yesterday's discovery of a book left randomly on a bench -- as a typical, "normal" synchronistic recurrence, one that just happened to "echo" a respectively different synchronicity.

Then again, maybe this repeat was just chance, however unlikely (is this a common practice, leaving books on benches for others to find? I mean, I've done it myself, setting out books in conspicuous places after I've finished them, in bread-on-the-waters fashion; but I had no idea others did this). But, to again go the other way, I'll say this: in all my life (and in the many flat surfaces I've graced with my rear end), I've never once found a book on a bench ... and then it happened twice, less than a day apart.

* * *

Oh, and just so there's no confusion: yes, this really happened. Proof? I have none, beyond my word (of an anonymous internet blogger, no less); but, then again, I pass along my experiences for informational purposes only. This post, like everything I write here, comes with the standard disclaimer: take it or leave it, believe it or don't, for what it's worth (whatever it's worth).

Ask and Ye Shall (More Quickly) Receive

Ah, the "ask and ye shall receive" synchronicity. One of my favorite varieties -- because, after all, who doesn't like receiving what they've asked-for?

These days, however, I've experienced a trend in these sort of incidents: they're speeding up. That is, I'm receiving faster.

* * *

 Let's begin with an example of a traditional, delayed, "normal" a-and-r-type synchro (as if anything of the sort can ever feel normal ...).

It happened this past December, right around Christmas time, beginning with a random, years-old copy of Rolling Stone. In one of the magazine's articles, it mentioned solitary confinement and the psychological effects it often has on prisoners. Hmm, wouldn't mind learning more on that subject, I thought.

Jump forward a couple days, when I was reading a second random copy of Rolling Stone, also several years old (but a year or two newer than the first). In this one, I came across a second article: about solitary confinement and the psychological effects it often has on prisoners. Except, this one was devoted fully to the subject, going at it in-depth -- and, thus, fully satisfying the explicit request I'd made just days previous.

In a touch of irony, the second article even mentioned how, in a previous issue of Rolling Stone, the topic of solitary confinement had been touched on in an unrelated piece. (And, of course, my selecting these two particular issues, and my receiving them in the first place, was entirely random, with each pulled blindly out of a thick stack in an enclosed drawer -- that is, with no way that I could've been influenced in my selections, even subconsciously.)

* * *

Interesting? Yes. But, apparently, waiting a few days for my "receipt" is too long, as a couple recent incidents demonstrate.

Take the one that occurred on February 3rd of this year, for instance.

As I drove up to a store, I was rocking out to "Girls, Girls, Girls," the classic Crue song, after it had cropped up unexpectedly on the radio. However, as much as I was enjoying myself, I was short on time and so had to leave the car before the song could finish, therefore depriving myself of its last leg (including the guitar solo and its top-octave peak).

Man, wish I could hear the rest of that, I thought as I killed the engine and stepped from the car.

I was only gone fifteen minutes, but, of course, the song was finished long before. However, as I keyed my car, I was startled to hear the unmistakable scratch of Mick Mars's guitar -- playing the solo of "Girls, Girls, Girls." As it were, the music was the backing track of an advertisement (for a strip club, hence the choice of song).

And, thus, I Received the last leg of "Girls, Girls, Girls," almost exactly where it had left off from before.

* * *

But, the Receiving would speed up even more.

Case in point: another incident involving a classic-rock song on the radio, occurring just the day after that of the "Girls, Girls, Girls."

I was cruising down the road, again grooving on some particularly agreeable guitar-rock that had come on at just the right time. This song, however, I didn't recognize, other than the fact that it sounded suspiciously like Journey.

Wonder who that is, I thought in between fits of air guitar. Sounds sorta like Journey.

Approximately two seconds later, I stopped at a red light, with a car in front of me -- a car with a big, prominent emblem reading "JOURNEY," arriving before the word had time to leave my mind. It created something of an echo effect, which I can only describe as utterly surreal.


(And, yes, it was indeed a Journey song, "Stone in Love," as confirmed later when I looked up the lyrics.)

If only Amazon could fulfill requests so quickly.

Ask and Ye Shall Receive

I had some checks to deposit at the bank. I deposited the checks at the bank. All was well. However, almost immediately afterward, circumstances arose that I might've needed to withdraw those same monies in cash.

How long would they hold those checks before clearing them for withdrawal? I thought then. I had just recently changed banks, and wasn't familiar with the new one's holding policies.

An hour later, I was at a healthcare clinic. The waiting room had a rack of magazines. I was waiting, so I picked through the magazines, of which there were several dozen in high stacks. Of the many choices I thumbed through, one stood out: an issue of Consumer Reports, a publication I'd heard of but never read.

I stopped there: this copy of Consumer Reports was crying out to me, demanding to be taken. I knew at once, without a doubt, that I had to comply, despite my falling outside the magazine's targeted demographic, being neither much of a consumer nor a fancier of reports.

So I chose the magazine, and though it wasn't the most thrilling or appropriate of reading material, it did serve as occupation. However, that soon changed, about halfway through, when I skimmed an article about mobile banking.

Mentioned offhand in this article was the fact that normal banks hold deposited checks differently than most purely mobile banks. As an example, the article quoted the hold times for one such normal bank, which held deposited checks for only one business day, the shortest of all banks, lending it a bit of a reputation.

That one quoted bank was mine, that which I'd just deposited my checks into an hour ago, then wondered about how long they would be held before clearing. As it were, my circumstances would require that I have the deposited money available for withdrawal on the next business day.

Ask and ye shall receive, said a jovial voice in my head. I agreed, then I laughed out loud.

Ask and Ye Shall Receive -- Yes, Really

Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.

-- Matthew 7:7

* * *

A couple months ago, I had a thought: that I would like a new scanner for my computer. What was wrong with my old one, and why didn't I just buy a replacement? Long story, and a quite boring one, and ultimately irrelevant. Anyway, the thought was there: new scanner, vague but distinct. Not quite a request -- not an asking, for a new scanner was by no means a necessity -- but a coherent desire, nonetheless.

The very next day, as I drove past a local dumpster on the way home, I noticed something set beside it: a silver, electronic-looking gizmo. I stopped and investigated. The gizmo was a computer scanner. It worked great, and was precisely what I needed, without the flaws of my old scanner.

I had received, it seemed. I smiled and laughed.

* * *

And then it happened again.

Same basic circumstances, different thing: a new container for my receipts and records, now. My old one was problematic (in another boring way), and I was adverse to getting a new one (for more good-but-boring reasons). Likewise, this situation, for all its pettiness, culminated in a passive-yet-distinct desire, now for some filing apparatus without the flaws of that I currently used.

And again: the very next day; the very same dumpster; a curious object set considerately beside it, the way we do quasi-trash that someone might conceivably want. A minute later, I was the proud owner of a good, sturdy plastic case with an accordion-style folder inside. For my needs, nothing could've been more appropriate.

Consider me a receiver, I guess.

Rings (aka, Ask and Ye Shall Receive ... Again)

Once again, I asked, then received.

No, it's not the first time. Nor the dozenth. For instance, just recently, I really wanted some ginger with my lunch, to set it off -- but only one helping of ginger, because I was leaving town and didn't want to get a whole thing of it. You know how these things go. Well, when I go to get coffee to have with my lunch, I feel Compelled to ask the cashier if he might happen to have some ginger, despite this not being the kind of place that would have something like ginger on offer -- but, remarkably, he does have some, in these little single-serving packets with Asian characters on the front, which, wouldn't you know it, he'd Just Happened to find lying about the store, the very day before I came asking for some (he didn't even charge me for it, since it wasn't even in the store's system). Yes, I've asked, and I've received.

And today, it happened again.

This time, it involved a ring. Oh, my troublesome rings, always falling off my fingers if I'm not careful. Apparently, one fell off and I didn't notice, because it was missing at the end of the day, and didn't turn up after a search. And I liked that ring, darnit. So I had the thought: Need a new ring, but where? My fingers are an odd size (why my rings tend to fall off, I imagine), plus I'm just picky about my rings.

But, within a day, I had a new ring.

Where? A health-food store, of all places. And, not just a health-food store, where you wouldn't expect to be met with quality sterling-silver jewelry, but a health-food store in a town I'd had zero plans to go to that day. See, also as in the past, today I'd felt Compelled to simply pick up and go, north, to a small town I'd heard about several times but never visited. And, likewise, I felt Compelled to visit a health-food store there -- a store that Just Happened to have a tray of rings set out.

I perused the rings, and I found not one, but two rings that fit wonderfully (and were reasonably priced). But that's not the kicker.

The kicker came, once again, from my servicing cashier. When I mentioned to her my pleasure of finding the store stocked with rings of my size and liking, she said something interesting: she'd just found those rings, kicking about the store, not an hour before my arrival.

I laughed. She laughed. The whole thing smacked of single-serving ginger.

(And speaking of those single-serving ginger packets with the Asian characters: the very first thing I'd seen upon walking into this health-food store, before the rings or anything, was those very same packets of ginger, for sale by the door, the second time I've ever seen them aside from when I was given one when in want of a little ginger for my lunch. Realizing this after buying my new rings, I laughed all over again.)

Ask and Ye Shall Receive: The Flip Side

Indeed: I have asked, and I have received. This time, however, I was on the other side of the exchange.

It centered around a chiropractic appointment.

I would call myself a "giver," except that I didn't really give anything. Rather, all I did is show up early for this particular appointment. And, even then, my reasons for doing so were wholly selfish: when the day came, it just worked better for me to get my adjustment at 10:00 AM instead of the appointed time of 11:00 (due to a million little unforeseen logistics, and the other things that life can throw at us on any given day). I almost called to see if I could bump up the appointment, but I had to literally pass right by the chiropractor's after leaving my hotel; it made sense to just drop in and see if the doctor might happen to be free.

That was the extent of my "giving": a selfish, and somewhat importunate, early arrival at my chiropractor's. Yet, "giving" it very well proved to be.

In my chiropractor's office, the man's eyes lit up as soon as he saw me. And then, after I explained why I was early, a smile opened across his whole face, of the bright, beaming variety that you just can't fake. "I love how the universe works," he said then, and proceeded to explain that he had just been hoping that I would come in at 10:00 instead of 11:00. See, he had mistakenly double-booked the 11:00 time slot.

I laughed. He laughed. I got my adjustment at a convenient time, and my chiropractor's scheduling dilemma was nullified in the bargain. Win-win.

If this is "giving," I like it.

A Buckshot of "Ask and Ye Shall Receive"

In a random book, I read of someone listening to a NASCAR race on the radio. Afterward, I had the thought: You know, I've never once heard a race on the radio ...

After thirty-some years of life on Earth, you'd think I'd have heard at least a race or two. But no, not once.

The next day, I was in my car, traveling through a small town in another state, when I lost my radio station. Upon scanning for a new one, I came to a station with an announcer rather than music -- for a NASCAR race.

* * *

A few days ago, I noticed my toilet bowl needed cleaning. My first thought was to go for the chlorine-based spray I've always used, but I was stopped by a thought: This stuff is toxic, and pollutes the environment when flushed. There must be a good, nontoxic way to flush the toilet ...

Thirty minutes later, when reading a random magazine, I came across a how-to article for cleaning house -- which mentioned that baking soda and vinegar were great as a "nontoxic way to clean the toilet."

As it were, I had both. Worked great, and no nastiness.

(Oh yeah, and the magazine? An issue of 'Parents,' the first I'd never seen, which I'd been Compelled to get from the library's "free" bin, despite being neither a parent nor a parent-to-be nor having the slightest interest in anything parent-y. And, of course, there was nothing about toilet-cleaning anywhere on the magazine's cover ...)

* * *

When on the way to a doctor's appointment, I randomly thought of the waiting room there, and how I would sometimes read its complimentary copies of Rolling Stone. This triggered a second thought: Been a while since I've read a Rolling Stone. Wouldn't mind reading one again sometime.

At the doctor's, I was seen to right away, so I was deprived of waiting in the waiting room and, thus, of leafing through a Rolling Stone. But no matter, because, during my visit, the doctor informed me that she'd recently cleaned out all the magazines in the place, and had felt "led" to save all the copies of Rolling Stone -- for me.

I left with a veritable stack of the things, as to require a double-bagged bag.

* * *

I could list more -- many more. But I won't. You get the idea.

Rubber-Gripper Thing from Heaven

The jar wouldn't open.

However innocent-looking, the lid was uncooperative, sealed tight, not budging when turned. I tried harder. I used a towel. I used all my might. But no give.

One of those rubber-gripper things would come in handy right about now, I thought.

In the end, however, my jar saga had a happy ending: the lid did at last succumb (after some gentle banging on the counter). With that, I forgot about my brief battle with the jar of minced ginger. My life proceeded.

Though, I would soon remember that jar, and my silent prayer for a rubber-gripper thingamajig. Fast forward to this evening, approximately twelve hours later.

Once I'd returned home for the day, I had a package in the mail: some vitamin supplements. I opened the envelope, and there were the supplements -- along with something else. A little plastic package with a friendly green label. "Magic Gripper," it read.

One of those rubber-gripper things -- except, in with my shipment of supplements.

Why? How? When I'd placed the order, there'd been no mention of a complimentary rubber-gripper. I guess it might make sense, given that supplements come in bottles and jars, with lids that might get stubborn from time to time. Though, I've ordered from this place dozens of times, for years, and never received any rubber-grippers ...

Until today, some hours after I'd Just Happened to have needed just such a utensil (for the first time in ... months? years?).

Ask and ye shall receive, I thought. Again.

(And here's a fun little footnote: that evening, minutes after discovering my unexpected gift, I went to open another jar ... and its lid wouldn't turn. I employed my new rubber-gripper, and it worked like a charm. Afterward, I laughed madly.)

11/15/12: Book Synchronicity

Ah, the classic book synchronicity. It's a repeating phenomenon, I've learned, often involving two random books read back-to-back -- yet containing the precise same things.

The books, this time, were The New Alchemists by Dirk Hanson, and Cosmic Trigger by Robert Anton Wilson, read in that order (arbitrarily, out of a pool of over a dozen recently-bought books). The formats and subject matters of these books could not have been more different, one being a clinical retrospective on the burgeoning computer industry, the other a personal memoir of drug trips, bizarre "coincidences," and their possible implications. Yet, they contained several parallels.

1) Both detailed the life and career of Nikola Tesla, sometimes in overlap.

2) Both quoted Timothy Leary.

3) Both mentioned Thomas Edison.

4) And last, but far from least: the books both outlined RCA's Spectra-70 computer, even mentioning, specifically, how it was discontinued. (To my knowledge, I did not know of the Spectra computer beforehand, or that RCA had ever dabbled in the trade.)

I bought the books on two separate occasions, several hundred miles apart, without prior knowledge of either's existence. Then, I Just Happened to read them back-to-back.

(Also, as implied, this is not my first such experience, nor is it the tenth.)

(Furthermore, it bears mentioning that, just hours before reading the part of Cosmic Trigger in which the Spectra-70 was mentioned, I had the thought of, I need a significant synchronicity, since I haven't blogged of one for so long. This, too, is not the first such time I've had such ask-and-ye-shall-receive.)

(And, more: In The New Alchemists, one chapter detailed how computers were, at the time, being groomed for speech recognition (the book was written in 1981). On the very same day I read this, literally hours apart, I received an old newspaper clipping from my father, completely randomly -- which detailed how computers were being groomed for speech recognition (the paper was from 1984). I had not discussed anything from the book with my father, nor has he ever given me clippings from decades-old newspapers before.)

(Did I mention that Cosmic Trigger was primarily about just such synchronicities?)

Ask and Ye Shall Receive ... A Massage

When I saw who would be my massage therapist, it was the ultimate double-take moment.

The short of it: for weeks, I'd been trying to work a therapeutic massage into my schedule, and, also, I'd been trying to get it with a certain, new therapist who works out of the gym I attend -- in fact, I'd been Compelled to book with this particular therapist, in an especially urgent yet wholly baseless and illogical fashion I've come to know well. However, once I finally got the time to get my much-delayed massage, it just didn't work out with that therapist, with my needing to be in another part of town for other obligations.

Therefore, I instead booked with a different outfit, convenient to where I'd be that day. They have a rotation of therapists, and you never know who you'll get; but no worries, because I'd never once gotten a bad massage at this place, whomever the therapist.

So, fast-forward to when I arrived at my appointment -- and was summarily shocked. First: by the sight of the aforementioned therapist I'd been so stubbornly Compelled to book with; she does massages out of this place too, as it turned out (unbeknownst to me, of course). Then, I was soon shocked anew, when it turned out that, not only does this therapist practice where I'd Just Happened to book (over thirty miles from my gym) -- but she Just Happened to be randomly assigned to me upon my making the appointment that morning.

Chance? Not impossible, surely. But, in the context of the dozens upon dozens of similarly unlikely incidents catalogued in this blog ... it didn't feel like chance.

(And, the clincher: the massage I received ended up being exceptionally good, and in a unique, therapeutic fashion that I've never quite experienced with another therapist, when I'd been so illogically Compelled to book with that uniquely therapeutic therapist ...)

7/31/11: Ask, and ye shall receive

Was in town, driving, and thinking of how I could best transport a motorcycle using a pickup truck.

Seconds later, while I was stopped at a light, a pickup truck pulled next to me, two bikes upright in the back, strapped just so.

I studied them long enough to see how they were secured, then laughed loudly.