Synchronic

While there may be times, most times, when I struggle for any sense of synchronicity, there is a fine line where I can do perfectly. It's these moments of disequilibrium that allow for an oscillation, more wave-like than disordered that allows for the repeated acts of physical juggling that appear most impressive. And while that's nearly impossible to understand, what I mean here is the following examples taken from everyday life, starting backwards.

I make a phone call, "Hey Mom, Mom's day. Happy Valentine's Day. Happy St. Patrick's Day. Ha, funny son." Person walks by window. It's my nieghbor. Wait, it's a friend too; same time of arrival. "Get some coffee? Go on a bike ride?" Sure, whatever. "Bye Mom." Take the tuba, first time in 6 months playing. National Tuba Day, last Friday. Someone tells me this. We get coffee. See a guy from around town. Talk for a while about playing jazz. Someone I recognize, it's a friend's sister, a friend from high-school, in Connecticut; this is Oregon. Go to the river. Play music. Other strange instruments, bagpipes and parade. Rain comes, we flee to a gazebo accompanied by vagrants. "I have a flugel horn," and he does have one. The other has a mandolin. We talk about Close Encounters of the Third Kind, we play the songs from it. It's thundering, it's a lightening storm. I've got a large piece of metal, so we choose to wait it out. That's it.

Disequilibrium certainly seem accurate, describes my life. Strange though, my days lately. More to come.