Every so often we’re witness to a reality that is so much like what we imagined that we can’t help but think we made it happen.

Coincidence, they call it. I’ve read stuff about the mathematical probability of it-that it’s just something that should happen given the variables. It’s a result of the dance of evolution: chaos and order caught up in a tangle of exertion, enraptured by fluidity. Inevitably there are collisions. A step on a foot, a miss timing. Moments that shouldn’t be, but are.

Today I experienced two moments of collision. The first started when I had the thought that my odometer would reach 6666 soon. And I thought how I should document that, perhaps with some trepidation. Hours later, after cleaning my house and messing around on facebook, on a whim I decided to call a good friend. I got in my car (hands free talking), backed up out of the carport to watch the stars, and called. That’s when I noticed 6666.6mi staring back at me. I smiled. What a coincidence! Sure, it was going to happen, duh… but did I have to be sitting in my driveway, calling a dear friend, hours after I imagined this moment, staring at this auspicious number? Did I make this moment happen? Was something else making it happen?

After the wave of awe passed, the experience could be shelved as just another unknown–just one more sign of the paranormal, or a delusion of a wishful mind. Interesting but not ground shattering.

Then after a heavy conversation about some of the more meaningful thought turds, I got out of my car. The stars were beaming. I walked around to the back of the house. The concrete slab of a back patio was littered with a smashed table, part of which was now ash in our re-purposed grill. I turned my head up towards the stars and thought as my chest swelled with an emotion I can only describe as yearning, “you’re out there, waiting for me.”

It was a recognition that I’m putting off the reunion. That I can know something, maybe me, maybe god, but something. Something more profound and infinite than this fleeting existence. And that all the drugs and distractions and delusions are just me waiting. And looking up tonight I thought, “hey, I’m just waiting, aren’t I? Maybe you’re waiting there for me. But you’re there, aren’t you?”

In that very instant, and in the very small space between the trees that I was directly looking, a shooting star dashed through. As the words, “you’re out there, waiting for me” just left my mouth. And there it was, as if to say, “YES!”

My heart exploded–laughter, awe, sadness, joy… however you describe that feeling where your heart bangs against your chest and your mind reels as it’s overwhelmed by the sound of it go thump.

Who am I? What am I?

And why the fuck am I so damn lucky?! This can’t be coincidence anymore. This can’t be. I seldom go a day without life reminding me that I’m lucky. With blatant opportunity, subtle beauty, or extraordinary experiences, I’m constantly reminded that my life is exceptional. When I mess up, I pay for it quickly. The lessons I learn aren’t too painful. The joys aren’t too hard to find. And shit like stars reacting to my thoughts happens ALL THE TIME.

But the answer to it all just came to me tonight. And that’s this mandate: stop fucking around and know god.

Because I can. And because there is no greater purpose. I’ve done this life thing before, many times. And now I’m back one more time. This time I couldn’t be more set. The path couldn’t be clearer. This is my last temptation. All I need do is let it go… be alive, but be free. Then maybe I’ll meet that which makes stars move and dreams come alive.

I’m so close. I can feel it.