Synchronicities are permanently woven into our every day’s experience, although we usually call them coincidences. Have you ever thought about a friend only to receive a call from her five minutes later? Or randomly decided to take a different route to work and learn that the one usually taken had been blocked by the traffic accident? The examples could go on and on.

While some of the coincidences can be rationally explained, there are others that defy logic. Carl Gustav Jung called the latter synchronicities (meaningful coincidences). He believed that even though they occur with no causal relationship, they seem be meaningfully related.

Having a handful of examples of synchronicities in my life, I love when they’re unfolding. It’s like witnessing a little bit of magic happening right in front of your eyes. Last week I had a chance to experience another series of synchronicities, which inspired me to writing this post.

Leather Notebook

Summer evenings are conducive to social life. I met with a former co-worker for dinner last week, after a long break in our contacts. Upon greeting her, I noticed that she was carrying a big FedEx envelope. Not an unusual sight for someone coming straight from work so I didn’t think much of it. I should have, because this envelope was intended for me.

It was from the Centre for Public Safety and Well-Being of Laurier University, and contained a beautiful notebook bound in brown leather. The notebook is engraved with the university’s logo at the bottom and the “positive psychology” words on the leather flap that closes the notebook. A high-quality stationery indeed.

Inside there was a hand-written note saying that this is a gift exclusive to the graduates of the Certificate in Positive Psychology. Using this notebook would be “a reminder of the many things I learned in the program,” they hoped, and “an encouragement to keep the new-found knowledge active in my daily life.” Inspiring.

As a notorious note-taker, I was delighted by the usefulness of this gift, already imagining the joy of filling its pages with words and doodles. But it wasn’t the practicality of this gift as much as the timing of its arrival that had shifted this experience into the realm of synchronicities.

Snail Mail

Laurier sent this notebook in March. Instead of mailing it to my home, they sent to my former place of employment. There, it had been put on “my” desk. But being a contractor and working remotely these days, I don’t go to the office unless there is a special occasion. There hadn’t been one since the company holiday lunch in December.

With each passing day, the FedEx envelope was fading into the background, becoming a permanent element of the office décor. Like a piece of art on the wall. Or the nose on your face, which we don’t even see thanks to unconscious selective attention, the ability to ignore expected input.

If it wasn’t for a particularly busy spring, I would have met with my co-worker earlier as we try to get together for dinner or lunch at least once every two-three months. But with both of us being preoccupied with work while getting ready for our travels, there simply wasn’t enough free time to socialize.

On the day of our dinner, shortly before leaving the office, my co-worker had mentioned her plans to a colleague. Saying my name aloud brought the envelope back from its unintentional exile and made visible again. Hadn’t my friend mentioned meeting me for dinner, I might have still been blissfully ignorant about the gift.

Bird’s View

Where’s the synchronicity, you might wonder. The above events like a combination of miscommunication and bad timing, if anything. Well, the synchronicity becomes apparent only when we take the broader look at the events. So, let me show you where I was on that July evening.

As I mentioned, part of me being busy this spring had been caused by the travels: in early June I went to Poland to celebrate my mom’s milestone birthday and to attend my high school reunion.

Reunions tend to follow a certain pattern and revolve around catching up on people’s lives. Ours wasn’t any different and we talked about kids, wives, husbands, careers, travels and so on. Yet, as the night went on, a distinct shift in the conversations could be noticed. The informational nature of our chats had been replaced with the existential issues. Discrepancies between our former dreams and the reality of our lives, breakups, losses and – of course – the search for meaning.

It was during the second part of that evening when a couple of my friends inquired – separately – about the projects I am working on now. They remembered me as an aspiring writer and journalist.  Always ready to tell a story, to record our mischiefs in a written form. I mentioned a few of my older projects but didn’t elaborate on the new ones. Not much to report there, I felt. “Please, keep writing,” my friends encouraged.

Interestingly – or shall I say synchronistically – it was the second time in less than 24 hours that I had to respond to the same questions. Earlier, another friend – and an editor to make things more meaningful – had pressed me on the reasons why I stopped writing. In her opinion, me not writing was doing a great disservice to the others. I should “go over my hang-ups and start contributing to the society,” she said.

Write, No Matter What

Sitting on the plane going back to Canada two days later, I could still hear my friends’ words. I knew they were right. Every time I’ve tried ignoring that “little voice inside,” I had to pay a hefty price. (I covered that topic recently.) It seemed like it was time to confront my deepest fears around writing.

Writing is the favourite way in which I express my creativity. However, certain of my life choices have made sharing the effects of this creative side “slightly” more challenging. Like competing against fast athletes in a hurdle race while you’re suffering from a gout and carrying a 100-lb backpack harder.

Growing up in Poland, I didn’t start learning English until I was 19. (Actually, English is my “forth” second language, which came after nine years of learning Russian and four years of learning German – both of them now are quite rusty.) That late start has always been a source of my great insecurities around my accent and the quality of the writing skills.

Had a picked a less “wordy” profession, writing with a basic vocabulary would be sufficient. But I didn’t. I started my career as a journalist and editor. By deciding to move to Canada I had to accept the challenges of changing the linguistic environment. Limping along with that heavy backpack while trying to catch up fast runners.

The beginnings were humble, yet through a range of synchronistic experiences I moved up to a position of managing editor of peer-reviewed journals. I’ve been doing this for the last nine years. As much as I appreciate the opportunity of working in my field, doing a managing editor’s job doesn’t necessarily equals opportunities for creative writing. I’m there to help other people see the results of their work published.

Additionally, the exposure to high-level writing has made my own shortcomings as clear as a day and kept feeding the insecurities. Who was I to attempt butchering the language of Shakespeare and Margaret Atwood? For years I let the fear of sounding “illiterate,” a worst humiliation a writer can face, to prevent me from publicly sharing my writing.

Here Comes Positive Psychology

In early 2016 positive psychology has entered my life. I haven’t felt that passionate about anything since my days of exploring natural health and nutrition. In the months that followed, I dived right into the topic, spending time and money studying it with the commitment that was surprising even to me. Shortly after, the pile of notes scattered around the house began to grow and the little voice become stronger. I knew it was time to face my insecurities and found the timing of my friends’ questions quite synchronistic.

Positive psychology advises using positive reinforcement when working on overcoming one’s fears and insecurities. More carrot and less stick, to put it bluntly. Instead of competing in a hurdle race, maybe I should find a discipline in which the lack of balance and strong back would give me an advantage, I wondered.

And that’s how another piece of a puzzle landed on in its spot. A few days before receiving that notebook, I stumbled upon Brian Johnson’s video summarizing the book “Solving the Procrastination Puzzle” by Timothy A. Pychyl. Although I’m hardly a novice when it comes to the topic of procrastination, the methods outlined by Timothy have really spoke to me.

Particularly the very first point, “Just start it.” It emphasizes the importance of starting something for the benefit of getting the momentum going. By removing the pressure of seeing the task through till the end, it lifts the paralyzing feeling of being overwhelmed by the complexity of it. That’s positive psychology and spirituality in one!

Noticing Synchronicities

Based on this rationale, the endless notes scattered around my place are not a sad reminder of my weak willpower but an example of doing the first step: just getting started. That night I went to bed feeling optimistic.

Even though I watched that video only a few days before meeting my co-worker for dinner that week, by the time we met I had almost finished a blog post, prepared the outline for the character strengths workshop, and covered two envelopes with my ideas for articles and blog posts. Things were happening and the words were flowing. I was ready to share this enthusiasm with her. But before I had a chance, she handed me the FedEx envelope. Everything clicked.

This lovely notebook is the incentive I needed just at the right moment! A reassurance from the Universe that I’m on the right path, delivered in a form of a synchronistic leather “carrot” so there is a tangible object to refer to when needed.

This notebook represents things that are important to me: writing and positive psychology; quality and relevance. I am passionate about empowering others through education, about making positive psychology and its interventions more accessible to others. I strive to produce the teaching materials that will inspire others and stand the test of time. And if I ever find myself questioning my choices, all I need to do is to look at this notebook to remind myself how I felt when I saw it for the first time.

© Ania Bogacka