At the bus stop, on my way to work, a woman came after I did, beginning a competition to board first. She inched her way beside me, amongst others who were more or less orderly. Generally people respect the ones who were there first. Though aware that it was stupid, I couldn’t help myself and maneuvered between the people to stay in front of her, and she did the same, so we got to the steps of the bus shoulder to shoulder — like fucking idiots.
She dipped her Metro Card into the fare box first, winning the competition. “You are so rude!” I said, repeating, “You are SO rude!” The woman, from Africa somewhere, wore a long head covering (a burka maybe) with pink and purple circles and a tunic with similarly colored circles. She wore black pants and sandals beneath it.
Again I said, as I tend to focus and drive it home, “You are SO rude!”
She said in a melodic accent, “I don no why you doin’ chop chop!”
Oh I know why I was doin’ chop chop — I was a fucking idiot with a toothache who had slept very little the night before. If this woman had done this another day, I would have gladly stepped aside to let her on. Today my spiritual energy was low.
I eventually worked it out, going easy on myself for behaving badly. As an old man from Harlem said, generally, “If someone steps on my foot in the subway station, I apologize.” It’s not that I’m a pussy, it’s because I understand that we’re paranoid, scared, defensive, and carry a lot of baggage, etc., and I’d like to be as helpful as possible. But I know this shit will happen again because I’m not Saint Auntie Sandee. But when things like this do happen, I wonder how I might do better next time.
Walking to the bus stop after work I thought about ‘chop chop’ lady. The bus comes and guess who’s on it? — ‘chop chop’ lady! She was smiling vaguely. I had to smile too.
The bus got crowded. A young couple got on. The woman asked to sit in the inner seat next to mine. “Sure,” I said, rising to let her in. The man stood by the outer seat next to me and chatted with her. Later, the person behind me got up. The man sat in that seat. I turned and said, “Let me switch,” so that he could sit next to the woman who got on with him.
“You’re a nice lady,” the woman said, and her male friend thanked me. “Thanks again,” she said down the road when they got off the bus. “Have a good evening,” I told them.
So. I’m redeemed. How nice if we could be like this all the time and not have ‘chop chop’ lady incidents?
I wondered if seeing ‘chop chop’ lady again meant that it was synchronicity, a sign that I’m supposed to be communicating something. So I wrote this. But this wasn’t the only interesting synchronous-ey thing that happened this week.
A few days ago on the way to work I thought, though I’m not influenced by mainstream ideas and think for myself, I’m not getting any validation from the tribe. I don’t have any ‘certifications’ — so to speak — since I’ve rejected certain ‘customs’ and ‘rituals’. I’m not trying to be hip, this is just the way it is, from when I was young. Maybe I just have some kind of syndrome. Anyway, I muse, while I think for myself, etc., I’m kind of ass out, because I still need to have some validation from my tribe, right? So I get to work and read this companion pamphlet to an installation in the gallery where I work. It talks about mainstream influence on thought patterns, group mentality, and how most people desire validation from each other in a society, etc. And I think it basically criticized sheep mentality.
Synchronicity. Holy shit. Great. Then I read this blog post yesterday, ABOUT synchronicity. Wow.
Last week I wrote a post with some divergent ideas about society. I wondered if this message from God and the universe means that it will be received better because of the coincidence of thinking about what it is to be different and having that thought validated by the pamphlet, and it all being in line with the different perceptions in the post I wrote about society. What am I supposed to do with synchronous moments? Are they the universe’s brass ring?