I had an odd encounter today. I was the catalyst for someone else's mystical experience.
Human minds look for meaning. In the maelstrom of sensory stimuli around us we search for signs that explain stuff. Or give us a feeling of connection to the universe's matrix. In times of emotional turmoil this impulse goes into over-drive. When a loved one dies we often look for clues that might mean something. Like a bird suddenly appears and we think "Grandpa! It's Grandpa! He came to say goodbye."
I've had such feelings myself so I take them seriously. I don't know which are real and which imaginary but I'll never denigrate anyone else's ride on the Mystical Express. It's a trip to Comfortville.
So today... I end a long walk with coffee at Starbucks. I bring two things to read: a local newspaper and The New Yorker. I'm reading the magazine when I hear a voice. I look up and confirm a middle-aged woman is speaking to me. She points to the headline of the newspaper, sitting in front of me but facing her, and says "That's my son." Having already read the paper I know the headline story is a sad one: a young man just died in an ATV accident upstate. He was a fire-fighter so his death is getting lots of local publicity.
The mother says she and her husband are returning home from the cemetery. She says she "never stops at Starbucks" so "coming here and seeing the newspaper" is startling. She repeats her surprise several times as I offer condolences on her loss. Then she says how "incredible" it is I'm wearing a particular t-shirt. The shirt has a drawing of a cowgirl, advertising a fun NYC restaurant by that name. (It closed years ago.) The woman explains her son's nickname is "Cowboy" and everyone calls him that.
Obviously this woman is reading volumes into the serendipity of me carrying a current newspaper in a highly-trafficked public space while dressed in normal clothes. But, given her palpable dolor, her view found transcendence in the encounter. Sensing and respecting that I was extremely sensitive with my remarks. I offered her the newspaper to take home and she accepted, handling it as reverently as a religious relic.
I never expected this going out today. Life contains surprises.
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