Sarge Bay, Augusta, storm coming in.
Chaos Theory would say that for every apparent moment of chaos there’s an underlying pattern. Science would say that serendipity is logically explainable. Calvinists would err towards a predestination, others destiny and fate. Some confuse it with spontenaity, perhaps serendipity is spontenaity but I think it is something different, for me serendipity has no particular agency.
Storms come and go, they appear random, we know that for every element of nature there is an action, reaction process, there is an explanation. Storms appear because they are a reaction to pressure fronts meeting, here it is usually cold front meets warm front, winds and rains ensue. A reliable pattern attested to by the weather reports. But perhaps the timing, the position, the intensity are more random.
When we lived on the farm, we would often look out across the valley and watch a rainbearing front coming in from the west, it would drop maybe 1 – 2 inches on our place, yet a property down the road might be dry – nothing. The next time we might get nothing and the property down the road might get 1 – 2 inches. Rain is patchy at best, never consistent across a front. Rain may be patterned by the pressure system, but within that pattern there are random moments where rain doesn’t fall equally, where the wind squalls vary, where hail is inconsistent. A normal abnormality! Thunder and lightning would be another example.
Storms aside, love is perhaps the greatest example. Not withstanding hormones, the what, who and when of love are serendipitous. Love, true love, is interrupted planning, disrupted expectation, blindsided hope, deranged logic.
“When love becomes logical, it dies. When affection is timed, it no longer exists. When bliss is scheduled, no after-thought can bring it back. Now is the only time for serendipity, for synchronicity, for joy.” (Amy Larson/AmyJalepeno.com) All the romcoms, TV shows like Friends, are testimony to serendipity, that the best laid plans all come undone every time, and the unplanned becomes the real. Perhaps love itself is serendipity. I like to think so.
“She was forever unexpected and I was drunk on that about her.” Atticus Finch in ‘To Kill A Mocking Bird.’ (Harper Lee)
snow covers the ground stark are the barren branches one blossom smiling ©Paul Cannon