I admire the effort. Optimism alone can do wonders for the soul, but this whole business begs the question: How much of life do we actually control? Even the most resolute, what with their efforts unrelenting, for all of their planning and preparing, are ultimately subject to coincidence.
***
Most evenings, I leave the office and walk a bit before diving underground, into an environment where so much is left to chance. In that, the Metropolitan Transportation Authority is a microcosm of the world in which we live. When might the next train arrive? Which of the cars along that line, as they grind to an abrasive, screeching halt, will be the one to stop nearest to the place where I am standing? Who, if anyone, might be waiting beyond those sliding doors?
It’s not the questions that matter, so much as the answers they reveal.
Imagine, you descend the stairs and make a line for the nearest turnstile, just as the train comes barreling into the station. Swipe your card, pass on through, and just in time, you lithely slip through those closing doors, and then who knows? But fumble for a moment, and that opportunity will be lost. The doors will snap shut, before the train begins to set off once again, lumbering down a line of dimly lit tracks—this time, without you aboard.
Miss the train. Make the train. Is it a mere coincidence, or is there something more that the moment portends?
***
About a week ago, I was hustling through a subway passage when I caught the eye of a woman walking by. She was tall and willowy, her long, blonde hair tucked loosely beneath a knit wool hat. There was something about this girl.
As our eyes met, we exchanged a lingering glance and she might have flashed me a slight smile, although I cannot recall if that last part was real or imagined. Our moment passed and then she was gone, just as soon as she had appeared, sent darting down the opposite stairwell.
Here’s where this gets interesting.
Many days later, it happened again. Though at a different hour and on a different day, there she was once more—the very same girl, at that very same juncture, with the same, furtive glance and its mischievous intent.
Was it a mere coincidence, this scene that smacked of déjà vu? Was it a random, haphazard occurrence, or was that moment in time meant to be something more?
There are answers we may never know.
***
These days, so many of us are online and informed, our worlds illuminated by the nascent glows of our computer screens. Nearly all of us have friends on MySpace and Facebook and even Twitter. We are active participants in our own social networks. Our worlds are becoming smaller by the moment, but our spheres of influence are growing exponentially.
Search for an old classmate, or find a former prom date. Attempt to track down that missed connection. Join a group. Support a thought. Promote an idea. Pass along a link to an open letter, and turn someone on to something new.
It’s all made achievable—not by the power of technology, so much as the efforts that we put forward. If we so much as choose to act, it is because of the fact that these days, so much feels doable, probable—likely, even. This New Year, for all of its resolutions, can lay no claim to that emotion.
For every one of us, there is a chance, real and ever potent. Maybe it is you or someone that you know, but someone knows of someone who knows of someone else. Not just anyone, mind you, but someone who might prove to be a one for somebody.
A mouthful that may be, but when you think about it? There is a person amongst us, whether your friend or mine, who just might be the missing link that brings two people together.
When and if they finally do?
There will be a feeling that no one can quite place, the result of coincidence finally letting go, ceding its hold upon the moment, allowing fate to come forth and firmly take hold.
