Here’s how the New Oxford American Dictionary defines coincidence: “A remarkable concurrence of events or circumstances without apparent causal connection.”
But I have a better definition: A coincidence is what SCIENTISTS call anything that actually happened but they find themselves unable to explain…
As I note on my Reiki Page: Reiki energy flowing through us can do remarkable things. Once when I was listening to a most fascinating podcast, my MP3 player stopped cold. The battery needed charging. I didn’t relish the idea of waiting several hours for the rest of the podcast – so I had an idea: I’d use Reiki energy on the player! I held the player in one hand, carefully “drew” the Reiki symbol above the player with my other hand, then concentrated on sending the energy into the battery. The result was immediate! While I didn’t fully charge the battery, the Reiki energy flow gave the battery enough additional energy to get me to the end of the podcast. That experiment provided concrete evidence of the power of Reiki! Nobody could dare dismiss this as “psychosomatic” or, more sneeringly, “placebo.” For a look at the power of placebo, BTW, check out my page on HEALING POWER.
The incident I shall soon relate takes my MP3 experience a huge step forward…
But first, let’s warm up with this:
In the mid-1990s, the world famous tobacco store Nat Sherman moved to the North West corner of Manhattan’s fabled 42nd Street and 5th avenue. Above the store’s corner entrance stood a clock:
One afternoon, as I took my daily constitutional, I noticed the new store and, enjoying Sherman cigars from time to time, I decided to check out the store. As I entered, I instantly noticed the clock (no flies on me…) and saw the time.
Inside the beautiful store, chock full of fine products, I noticed a new book on display. The Art of the Cigar Label, by Joe Davidson. This large, lavishly illustrated volume covers the art of the lithographed cigar box label. The first editions featured, inside, an actual lithographed label; very hard to find that edition now. I thumbed through the display copy, enjoying this trip through art and history. I would have bought the book, but something told me NO. When I get hunches like that, I heed them.
So I left the store, continued my walk, and went home.
Shortly after I got home, my wife arrived. She’d been in lower Manhattan, the old World Trade Center area, home to the wonderful RUBY’S bookstores. And she had a shopping bag with her. Excitedly, she opened the bag and showed me a book she’d bought me… yup, you guessed it! The Art of the Cigar Label, by Joe Davidson. Immediately I asked her, “What time did you buy the book?” She didn’t know, exactly. I suggested she check the receipt to see if the register had a time stamp. Sure enough, it did and… the moment in which my wife bought this book exactly matched the time I spent in the Nat Sherman store looking at the same book. We both looked at the book at precisely the same moment, me in Midtown at 42nd Street, she Downtown at Chambers Street three miles away as the crow flies.
So, I realized, that explains the hunch that I should not buy the book… Over the years, I have treasured this book, in no small measure as a result of this telepathic incident. Or… should I say as a result of a coincidence? What do you think?
And now I will relate what happened in the affair I call:
I use this old cell phone. It does exactly what I need: makes calls… receives calls… same with text messages. It used to get me on the internet but that software has grown outdated. But in all the years I have had this thing, I only went online once. So I miss nothing. In the summer of 2020, with all the mishigas over pandemics and lockdowns, my landline started to malfunction, then died. The service provider has cut way back on entering apartments out of concern for the health of the repair technicians. But they did some tests and found that the problem stems from their end, not mine. Fat lot of good that does me – the landline phone still just sits there like a lox.
Until this gets resolved, I only have this old cell phone to keep in touch. And as a result of some personal stuff, I found myself almost constantly on the phone. Which led me to believe it a wise move to get hold of a new battery.
I did precisely that. When I came home with the battery, I slipped it into my phone. It turned out that I had gotten a defective battery. Instead of charging up, when I connected the phone to the charger, the battery instantly drained completely and the phone froze up! I could do nothing whatever with it. I tried a spare, older battery, to no avail. My trusty phone had died… handed in its dinner pail. No problem! My Boy Scout days taught me BE PREPARED! I had a spare phone just like my phone sitting in my desk drawer, just waiting for a moment like this. I had only to go to the service provider’s website, enter a serial number for the new phone and… nothing happened. I tried it again with another web browser. Nothing.
This turn of events alarmed me. I had been relying heavily on the cell phone because my wife had recently undergone a complicated surgical operation as a result of a dreadful fall that happened because of a grossly negligent store-owner. Suffering hideous, unimaginable agony, my wife had wisely decided to throw all the medical decisions to me as her medical proxy. She could then concentrate on healing while I handled all the details. Because of this, I found myself on the phone for hours at a time talking with doctors, nurses, social workers, administrators, you name it. And as “luck” would have it our landline had gone out of service the month before and that service provider had yet to locate the problem. The cell phone gave me my only link for communication. And it had died. When I reached a service rep for the cell by way of an online chat I learned that they could not transfer service to the new phone, because of its obsolete technology. This made no sense to me. I already had service on a 100% identical phone. So how could they not transfer service? They simply could not, they informed me. I’d need to get a new phone and we left it at that.
And then I had an idea. Remembering the MP3 player incident (see above) I performed REIKI on my defunct cell phone. And (drumroll) nothing happened. For about two minutes. Then the cell phone lit up and came back to life and I have used it ever since without problems.
Reiki Energy had revived my dead phone. Or… did I simply experience yet another “coincidence”? I’ll ask the first scientist I meet.