(no subject)

[tozo]

Its remarkable how the precise nature of my mood can reflect that of someone I invested a piece of my 'soul' in. My thoughts suddenly turned to my experiences with a particular individual, some of which I have had no reason to think of in particular. Nothing I could do would redirect my mind for very long. All of it was pleasant, if tinged with a hint of nostalgia, though we haven't spoken in nearly a year. Suddenly, my heart quavered as I pondered, oddly, of what I would do if I were in a particular [seemingly unrelated] situation. The rush of dire concern for something I had no reason to fret over. I wondered what was causing me to think of these things, why I should consider my hypothetical options and the undeniable need to come to a decision, why I could not turn my mind from these thoughts, why it seemed so important to my emotional well-being to seek within myself the advice I would like to have. So I reached out, as I am wont to do in such circumstances, and found the explanation for the inexplicable: these two lines of thinking intersected somewhere, just not in my subjective experience. After speaking with him, I realize now that it was not me who was thinking these things, well, not entirely. I provided the insight I had gleaned from my rumination, which proved helpful, and was able to concentrate again.

Synchronicity never fails to be uncanny.

Life scribbles out poetry, with us firmly enmeshed in its prose. From time to time, we find ourselves rhyming with some more frequently than others, across stanza and metre, forming semiotic images in the vast distribution of semaphore processing. Are they purposeful in and of themselves? No more than a wave's 'purpose' is to crash against a shore. Can we imbue them with purpose, and thus wield this phenomenon?

A thousand imagoes nod unconsciously.