Life on Repeat
EVERYTHING has come alive. My world is infused with meaning. In fact I have experienced so many synchronicities over the past forty-eight hours, that I'm almost frightened to venture outside the front door. Besides, I might end up having to relive the rather dull conversation I had with a stuck record on Groundhog Day 1999 in relation to the teleological implications of Nietzsche's thoughts on eternal recurrence.
Mind you, I've always found it very curious how some of the less receptive individuals to express an interest in Jungian psychology actively yearn for a synchonistic episode and yet often end up lying on a couch as a direct result of failing to come to terms with their decidedly repetitive and humdrum lives. In the same vein, I would imagine that the only possible synchronicity they experience would be to write out a hefty cheque for the same figure they had been presented with by their shrink at the same time and in the same place at least twice a week.