No Such Thing as a Coinkidink
An observation about the illusion of coincidence
I can unequivocally tell you that since I began paying attention to — and indeed acting on Universal signs — many more have occurred, which have assisted in rather a blessed and fun time for me in recent months.
Whether or not you believe in the concept of ‘signs from the Universe’, this is still worth reading. The point remains that the flow of life presents us with events at times that many would call ‘coincidence’. I don’t believe in coincidence; I believe in the Law of Attraction, and thus whatever frequency we’re vibing at, we attract more energy of the same frequency.
There was a point in time; perhaps it was the day I decided once and for all that I had to stop drinking. Or perhaps it was February during my first Ayahuasca ceremony. Regardless, at some point along the way, it became crystal clear to me that the seemingly out-of-control events which are regularly presented to us are, in fact, signs for us to observe, consider, and act upon.
“Having finally given the boot to my old and faithful pal cocaine, I had, once again, become addicted to weed…”
In December 2018, despite already being sober for almost a year, I was still heavily checking out of my ‘reality’ by way of smoking marijuana. Having finally given the boot to my old and faithful pal cocaine, I had, once again, become addicted to weed — replacing two addictions with another. An addict is always an addict, after all…
My business had the best year of its five-year history, yet I suffered from another severe bout of depression and was the unhappiest I’d ever been since starting the company. It’s funny now I look back: my mum died the day I started that company — a sign in itself…
I was chasing the dream of growing a successful creative agency on my own. I’d never borrowed any money or taken on any investment. I had no partners or mentors; it was just me and my wonderfully creative, fiercely loyal, and supremely hilarious young team at Fist of Fury — my creative family, whom I loved wholeheartedly.
Towards the end, the guys could see I was struggling. It was one of those all too common and unfortunate moments for a small business: being too stretched, having grown too quickly, with a light sales pipeline and an overdue debtors book of over £120,000. HMRC was harassing us in their usual ugly and most brutal way, the Pensions Regulator was breathing down my neck, and the team needed more resources as well as increases in pay. Of course, I was still the lowest-paid person in the company. I’d also taken sole management of the company way past its limits and should’ve obtained the services of some senior help sometime before — especially to help with sales, cash flow, pensions, financials etc. More staff, more equipment, fancy new offices at The Ministry, in the super-cool area of Borough, in south London — all with the misguided intentions of creating a long-lasting legacy. (This notion is rather amusing to me now). I realise now that I was also trying desperately to catch up with my peers — many of which by now had become millionaires or had at least achieved a very comfortable financial status.
You see, the thing about being an impulsive self-sabotaging alcoholic who suffers from a Narcissistic Personality Disorder for the lion-share of one’s life is: it tends to put rather a blocker on one’s progress. And so, even though I’d successfully ended an eighteen year-old drink problem, my unconscious mind was still being led blindly by my societal ‘hamster wheel’ programming, and my immense ego. So I was completely clueless about the things that really matter, and could not see what I was doing to my mind and body. And so I had my third major nervous break-down. In professional terms I think they call it ‘burn-out’ these days — and since a great deal of this illness was work-related, I can go with that.
It was at this point that the Universe gave me a jab in the ribs and showed me how desperately unhappy I was — though in the most surprising way possible.
My estranged younger brother came back into my life. We had not spoken for eight years and I honestly had never expected to hear from him again after the horrendous fallout we had back in 2010. Reconnecting with my brother at this juncture — at this dark, dark time— saved my life in so many ways.
As a child — like so many of us — James had trouble pronouncing certain words. Yellow was “lello”, Mrs Hughes was “Mrs Fuse”, and a coincidence was a “coinkidink”. As I ploughed into my journey of true self-awareness, I was keen to raise with him the regular coincidences which had begun to occur with more significant frequency. James’ response was always the same: “There’s no such thing as a coinkidink, brother”, and thus this expression quickly became a mantra.
And then, in what alcoholics refer to as “a moment of clarity”, through a series of unfolding events, I saw that I was being given some very clear signs to change everything for the sake of my present and future mental health. Moreover, these changes were clearly necessary for the sake of my spiritual development.
Suddenly I was presented with a number of choices, and if I took some scary and very drastic steps, I might well be able to reset everything and put myself in a position which allowed me the opportunity to stop. I mean, really stop. Then, after the right period of peace and stillness and enough time to breathe and heal, I might be able to make some considered choices about the new direction I wished for my life.
The first thing I had to do was to learn to love and forgive myself. Then to relearn who I was and consider who I wanted to be. Note I say ‘who’, not ‘what’. Sometime during the early days of this healing process, my brother James said to me: “The thing we have all forgotten is that we’re human beings, not human doings.” I found this profound on so many levels — notwithstanding the fact I could relate it so closely to my own experience and to the roots of much of my unhappiness.
From an early age, we are programmed with a set of beliefs about our worth, possessions, career and status. And then, depending on where we live (the UK, for example), we’re encouraged to borrow money, to want things which we don’t even need but which perversely give us a false sense of identity. We work very hard to be able to buy these things. And, of course, we are encouraged to work ourselves to death. Someone somewhere, at some point, said we should all own property; and so we all willingly sign up for a 25-year debt with a soulless lender, who — when push comes to shove — will turf us out in a heartbeat for missing a payment or two or because the market is trouble. Our life becomes one long commute or a work-related stress-fest. Family and friends come second, and the health of our own bodies comes last.
Naturally, we all work so hard that when Friday comes, we either crash on the sofa — devoid of energy and/or happiness, or we binge-drink alcohol, declaring: “I’ve earned it”, or “I haven’t had a good blowout for a while!” Perhaps we even smash in a gram of coke or two — finally dragging our exhausted bodies to bed after Saturday’s sun has already risen. Numbing the pain, putting off the problems created by this system until tomorrow. Yet hilariously, hangovers are bloody awful after thirty, and they absolutely suck ass when you’re forty+. And so the activity we engage in to make ourselves feel better actually leaves us even more exhausted, sick, and devoid of energy than we were in the first place.
“The thing we have all forgotten is that we’re human beings, not human doings.”
Does this sound in any way familiar to anyone else, I wonder..? This piece is not designed in any way to judge. Either way, this was the direction of my life.
And I haven’t even talked about mindfulness in all of this. The thing that gets the least time or focus is our own mind. And given the exponential epidemic rise in mental illness, this is the biggest joke of them all.
Setting aside the metaphysical aspects for a moment, the simple fact is that a vast number of people still to this day say: “I’d love to be meditating or being mindful, but I simply don’t have time.” As someone who’s been through this shit show and come out of the other side having literally seen the light: I can’t tell you how sad this makes me.
It’s only when we are truly mindful, and give ourselves the space and time to be still and at peace, that we open our hearts to something more than the incessant noise made by the babbling voice in our head and by the constant streaming check-list of bullshit worries which we masochistically fire at ourselves. With the right amount of practice, we can create that much-needed space in the hope that we might better see the signs that life is presenting to us. And once you begin to see this working, I can guarantee you’ll stop believing in coinkidinks altogether.
I was desperately unhappy. Events continued to occur, which made me realise that I was fighting with all my will to fit a square peg into a round hole. This was my life; this was part of my mental illness. And then one day, I saw it all, and now my life is amazing. And for this, I am gratitude eternal.
The Universe…
Cheeky, playful, painful, inspiring, giving, taking, loving, forgiving, and awesome. Our own intuition is naturally and deeply keyed into it. If we create enough space so we can truly hear our hearts, then we can surrender to the flow of life freely, happily, and with seemingly reckless abandon. And I can honestly tell you that if you give yourself this gift, you will never, ever look back.
In part, this blog was inspired by a book I read a few months back. It’s called The Surrender Experiment by Michael Singer. Definitely worth a read. As is another book of his called The Untethered Soul. And finally, the truly beautiful book, The Tao of Pooh, by Benjamin Hoff. For those of you who “don’t have time to read”, there are audio versions of all on Audible. 😉
