Weaving The Dream

When I was in high school, a young folk music group out of the University of Colorado was making the rounds of college campuses and was appearing at the college my mom was attending.  She invited me to go with her to hear the group perform.

The name of the group?  The Serendipity Singers.

I don’t know whether my mom liked the word “serendipity” first and then the group or vice versa.  All I remember is that because she was taken with the word and liked to use it, I added it to my vocabulary and always think of her when I hear it.

Serendipity means making happy and unexpected discoveries by accident. My mom, as an artist, liked the idea of happy accidents.

Serendipity is what happens when we are in the flow of our creative process, writing, painting, composing, or dancing.  We are working in our studios—practicing scales, researching a topic, or mixing paints—and suddenly a new juxtaposition of ideas occurs, or we play a sequence of notes a certain way and it catches just that nuance of meaning we were striving for, or the light falls on the rose in a way that has us seeing more than the rose we are painting.  Delightedly, our work takes flight.

Serendipity is a wonderful guest to have visit in your studio.  She gives you lovely gifts for your work wrapped up in pretty paper and tied with sparkly bows.  She makes creativity fun and exciting.

Years after listening to The Serendipity Singers with my mom, I read Carl Jung’s “Man and His Symbols” and I serendipitously discovered the idea of synchronicity.

Synchronicity means meaningful coincidence, or two seemingly unconnected events occurring at the same time in a meaningful manner.

You know, like the book that falls from the shelf in a thrift shop and has exactly the information in it you needed to provide background for your story, even though you were really there to look for a doorknocker.  Or like when you are driving to the gym, thinking about how the introductory measures of a new piece you are composing reminds you of a section in Beethoven’s Ninth which you’ve always enjoyed, and suddenly your car radio is playing Beethoven’s Ninth.

Synchronicity as a guest demands more attention than Serendipity.  He doesn’t wrap his gifts prettily but instead takes great delight in just plopping them on the table, or disguising them as something else, creating puzzles for you to ponder over and solve. But if you don’t get it, if you don’t take the gift to heart (while you try to figure out how to use it) and say thank you, chances are he will leave in a huff taking his gift with him.

Whether they are wrapped in pretty paper or disguised between the covers of an old musty book, the gifts from Serendipity and Synchronicity are treasures.  Leave the door open for these two inspiring guests, have tea and cookies waiting for them—and say thank you!