Funny how synchronistic events seem to follow a ‘feast or famine’ modus operandi or at least that’s my personal experience. When nothing unusual happens, it feels like desert time for me – nothing seems to flow easily; I feel dry, uninspired, uncreative and particularly unproductive. I want something to happen – I want a sign, a symbol, some sort of encouragement to my self that reassures me in some meaningful way. I feel like a wanderer in the desert seeking an oasis from which to drink plentifully, to submerge, to ease my parched throat, body and soul, and I don’t want the oasis to be a mirage. I want that wet, sparkling, clean, refreshing water – and I want it NOW.

But, as I write, and since I use the image of the desert, I realise that its outward appearance – of flatness and sterility – is deceptive.

The desert may conjure up images of long, un-ending, arid wastelands, the horizon illimitable, its way unending. The silence may feel unbearably oppressive. Not another person, animal or plant to be seen. No comforting word or thought, no water. The stars and moon may come out at night and provide a vision of magnificence and beauty, but the vision is not of this world – it is too far away. It is not the here and now.

One feels deserted.

Is there any value in these feelings of desertion? I’d be the first to reach for distraction rather than confronting this feeling of being in a dry, arid desert. I’d be the first to find something else to do, and most likely find something to eat to fill the symbolic emptiness and be hugely dismayed and disgusted with myself afterwards.

But there are times that I sit in the emptiness and go through my own dark night of the soul. I look inward and sit in the stuck-ness. I hate being there. I feel weary and sick of my own self. I am my own worst enemy, restless and inert at the same time, wanting to jump out and be anywhere but where I am, but quite immobilised to even jump. But, the wheel excruciatingly, slowly, turns and I feel that I can breath again.

And what, you may ask, has this to do with synchronicity?

Well, I was on my way back from the shops this morning, feeling dull and unmotivated to do tasks that needed doing in the house; it was also hot. I was uncomfortably aware that I hadn’t posted for a few weeks but I could not even begin to think of what to write on synchronicity.

A song was playing on the car radio – one I recognised from way back when. I was wondering how I would dance to it. It was a bit too slow perhaps to rock ‘n roll to; I imagined that it would be nice to be in someone’s arms to swing around in gay mood. Every breath you make, every breath I take – you belong to me .. I was bitching a bit about ‘you belong to me’ … but the song ended, and the announcer said the song was Police, from their album “Synchronicity”.

That gave me a start … it was a drop of water in my desert.

‘Alone, even doing nothing, you do not waste your time. You do, almost always, in company. No encounter with yourself can be altogether sterile: something necessarily emerges, even if only the hope of someday meeting yourself again’. E.M. Cioran (1911), Rumanian-born French philosopher. ‘Strangled Thoughts’, The New Gods.

The photograph was one I took up in Madikwe Game Reserve a few months ago .. it was very very dry – we were out on an evening drive. The photo doesn’t do justice to the beauty of the night fall … or the dryness of the reserve …