Letting Life's Coincidences Lead The Way
The What, How, and Why of Synchronicity
I don’t think synchronicities get enough airtime in spiritual conversations—not compared to psychedelic trips, near-death experiences, and extraterrestrial encounters.
While all are ways the universe likes to wink at us, the latter three are full-blown cosmic rollercoasters, often equal parts profound and exhausting. Synchronicities, on the other hand, are like a gentle nod from the universe—still magical, but far less likely to leave you questioning reality or reeling from ego death.
Are these moments just coincidences? Who knows.
But when life aligns in eerie, convenient ways, it can feel oddly like a reassuring nudge: Bingo! You’re on the right track—don’t stop now!
What to Think When Reality Winks at You
Fun fact: It was the psychologist Carl Jung who coined the term “synchronicity.”
He described them as meaningful coincidences—events so improbably aligned that they feel like more than chance.1
Ever had a friend text you the exact moment you were thinking about them? Or found yourself standing next to the perfect opportunity without even trying?
That’s the kind of eerie, well-timed magic we’re talking about.
From Jung’s perspective, synchronicities suggest we’re plugged into something bigger than ourselves—a kind of hidden order beneath the surface of everyday life. But you don’t need to think of them in a mystical way for them to matter.
Our brains, ever the pessimistic little survival machines, love fixating on problems, risks, and all the ways things could go terribly wrong.2
This is great if you’re trying to outrun a bear, but less useful when you’re just trying to enjoy your Saturday. Because what we focus on, we notice more of.
By deliberately paying attention when things align in our favor, we train ourselves to see more possibility, more luck, and more ease. This perceptual shift creates a self-fulfilling prophecy.3
In short: The more you acknowledge and appreciate life’s little alignments, the more you start spotting reasons to smile everywhere.
So, now that you understand the value in what we’re talking about, allow me to chew your ear off with some nonsense.
I need to tell somebody about this sweet dining set I just manifested…
How to Scare a Real Estate Agent
Right now, I’m loitering in life’s waiting room—a one-month purgatory between my old reality and one where I live out of a suitcase.
I’m wrapping up my final weeks at work, offloading my belongings like a desperate yard sale vendor, and gearing up to fling myself into digital nomad life with all the grace of a cat being dunked in water.
That said, everything has come together with suspicious ease.
I’m convinced the universe has been not-so-subtly trying to evict me from my stable life for years, and by the time I finally took the hint, it had gone from gentle nudges to megaphone-level screaming.
Enter my real estate agent.
Two weeks ago, I was sitting across from him at my dining room table while he ran me through the process of leasing my apartment.
As we talked, he assured me all my furniture could stay for the lease except the very table we were sitting at—a four-seater dining suite, which I’d snagged off Facebook Marketplace from an elderly woman a decade ago.
I remember the woman being very sweet. The table, however, was a death trap.
Hand-sanded and stained by yours truly, it had always been a little rickety. But the immediate issue, as my agent pointed out, was the seating arrangement.
“Are there only three chairs?” he’d asked, glancing around—to which I explained that the fourth chair had snapped. I then gestured to make himself comfortable at one that remained so we could go through the paperwork.
I watched the cogs turn as he silently questioned whether he was in danger, before professionalism forced him to take a seat.
So, yeah. Clearly, it was time for a new dining suite.
The Walnut Quest
Two days later, I sped off to a budget furniture store in search of a replacement dining suite, only to remember all the trouble I’d had sourcing the original.
See, my first ever piece of furniture was a liquor cabinet, which really speaks to my early-twenties priorities. I’d naively grabbed the fanciest one I could find, not realizing it would dictate the entire look of my living space for the next ten years.
Finding furniture to match its dark walnut tone turned out to be an impossible task. Which was why I gave up and accepted the Facebook freebie in the first place—I simply sanded it down and forced it into aesthetic submission.
Now, standing in the furniture store, history was repeating itself. Everything in sight was some awful shade of pasty white, and I didn’t fancy being bedridden by sawdust inhalation a second time.
Leaving the store empty-handed but undeterred, I figured it was time to go back to where it all began. With no filters and low expectations, I opened Facebook Marketplace and typed in “dining suite…”
And Then, Things Got Weird
Boom. First listing.
Walnut-stained, perfect size, four chairs, all legs intact.
I paused in surprise. Then, I scrolled through about ten more pages of listings to discern just how lucky I’d gotten.
It was the only one like it, and the improbability made me begin to doubt.
“Maybe these photos just make it look dark,” I thought.
I messaged the seller with a swatch of different wood shades, asking which one the table was closest to. She confirmed it was the exact shade I needed, and with that, my doubt surrendered to the sound of my synchronicity radar.
A day later, I found myself parked outside a stranger’s house, attempting not to look like I was casing the joint as I waited for the delivery men I’d booked.
I was beginning to worry they wouldn’t show when an enormous truck rumbled up, dead on the hour. Moments later, I was in the living room of a friendly, expecting couple, making small talk about furniture and fate.
“You’re very lucky,” the woman explained. “Someone tried to buy it just before you messaged, but it wouldn’t fit in their car.”
I contemplated this as the two men I’d randomly found through Google hoisted the table and chairs into a truck ten times the size for the job. Meanwhile, a familiar heightened feeling swept over everything.
I felt like a queen rolling up to a tiny village with an entourage.
Whoever those other buyers were, they were simply too under-equipped in the face of the resources that had shown up in support of me getting this table.
A Table, a Lesson, and a Wink from the Universe
A short drive and two flights of stairs later, I watched from my balcony as the delivery men left my building with their well-earned cash.
I then turned and admired my new dining suite.
Not only was it a perfect match, but it was leagues better than the last one, and everything had gone perfectly:
the Marketplace listing;
the size and color;
the timing of the drivers;
the intercept from another buyer.
Were these coincidences? Maybe. Or maybe the universe really wanted me to have that table so I can hurry up and make the move it’s been nudging me to make for years.
Ultimately, it doesn’t matter. I was just grateful for how smoothly things had gone.
If my brain is going to fixate on patterns, I’d much rather it be on these little cosmic coincidences than on a highlight reel of social missteps or all the ways life could implode.
Wouldn’t you agree? Let me know in the comments.
If you enjoy stories like this—ones that make you laugh, make you think, and make you wonder if life has a little magic hiding behind the scenes—subscribe for more.
Jung, C. G. (1952). Synchronicity: An acausal connecting principle. Princeton University Press.
Rozin, P., & Royzman, E. B. (2001). Negativity bias, negativity dominance, and contagion. Personality and Social Psychology Review, 5(4), 296-320.
Seligman, M. E. P. (2006). Learned optimism: How to change your mind and your life. Vintage Books.