We Were Gazing at Jupiter

I had a curious experience the other night. At the time there seemed nothing unusual about it but days later, it was far different. I had taken my dog out for his last-of-the-evening prowl around the yard and while he sniffed, I looked at the stars. Living in the country, the sky is incredible most nights and this one was no different. Jupiter loomed large in the east, but as I watched it I had a funny feeling. Nothing explicable, just, you know, funny. It was almost as though I should be watching, that there was a reason for it.

Friday evening, I learned that Caroline Kennedy and her husband were looking at Jupiter at nearly the very same time. Her uncle had passed away shortly before and she was imagining him sailing away, with this brightest "star" to guide him. I didn't know -- how could I have known -- what was taking place only a few hours away on the coast of Cape Cod. But there we were, gazing at Jupiter, each lost in our own private reverie.

I'll be the first to admit, there's a great deal I don't understand. Hamlet said it, "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy." Did he ever get that right. I was reviewing anatomy when my dog urged me to get out of my chair and attend to real life. And even as I was thinking about how the body works, the life in Ted's was slowly winding down.

Carl Jung wrote about synchronicity and the way seemingly random events may appear interconnected. Taken at face value, it was a full bladder coupled with his own inner sense of time-for-bed that got my dog to drag me outside. But knowing what I do now, I can't help wonder. Even if it was coincidental, it reminds me that so much more is going on, all the time, than life as we know it.


(Image of unknown licensure via Wikipedia)