Synchronicity sometimes acts as a kind of alchemy that transforms us or a decision we’re making in an essential way. The synchro itself may be as powerful as Gabe Carlson’s teapot story – or it may be something simple. The alchemy occurs because of what the synchronicity says to you, its impact on you. This was certainly the case for Jung during a visit in the 1950s with Henry Fierz, a chemistry professor with whom he had become friends over the years.
Friez had dropped by at five o’clock one afternoon to talk with Jung about a manuscript by a scientist who had recently died. Friez felt the manuscript should be published, but Jung, who had read the manuscript, thought otherwise. Their debate about the manuscript apparently became somewhat heated and at one point, Jung glanced at his watch, as if he were about to dismiss Friez. Then he seemed puzzled by the time and explained that his watch had just been returned after repairs, but it read five o’clock, the time that Friez had arrived. He asked Friez the time; it was 5:35. As Richard Tarnas recounted the incident in Psyche and Cosmos, Jung apparently said, “So you have the right time, and I have the wrong time. Let us discuss the thing again.”
In the ensuing discussion, Friez convinced Jung the manuscript should be published. “Here, the synchronistic event is of interest not because of its intrinsic coincidental force,” Tarnas wrote, “but because of the meaning Jung drew from it, essentially using it as a basis for challenging and redirecting his own conscious attitude.”
Many of us might not draw a correlation between the stopped watch and the discussion. But synchronicity, by definition, is the coming together or inner and outer events in a way that is meaningful to the individual and can’t be explained by cause and effect. This means that the outer world – and all of nature and our surroundings – can carry meaning just as the inner world does. Jung, accustomed to perceiving and thinking symbolically, recognized the synchronicity and changed his thinking accordingly.
Mike Perry’s synchros about white feathers as communication from deceased loved ones is the same type of synchronicity – meaning carried by the outer world. In the same vein, while Daz was digging a grave for his cat, Sylvester, who had been killed on a road near his home, Peter Gabriel’s song Digging in the Dirt came on the radio. In this instance, the song mirrored what he was doing at that very moment.
“Jung saw nature and one’s surrounding environment as a living matrix of potential synchronistic meaning that could illuminate the human sphere,” wrote Tarnas. “He attended to sudden or unusual movements or appearances of animals, flocks of birds, the wind, storms, the sudden louder lapping of the lake outside his the widow of his consulting room…as possible symbolic relevance for the parallel unfolding of interior psychological realities.”
For Jung, Tarnas noted, “all events, inner and outer, whether emanating from the human consciousness or from the larger matrix of the world, were recognized as sources of potential and spiritual significance.”
I thought about that last quote for a while. It seems that once you recognize coincidence as meaningful, once you’re in the flow of it, the inner self and the larger outer matrix whisper constantly to each other. All we need to do is listen.















