Synchronicities: The Art Of Noticing Clues That Are More Than Just Coincidences

When the odds are just too small to ignore.

Synchronicities.

A word I didn’t know before, and a word that’s in the back of my mind all the time now.

It refers to those moments in life that feel like they carry a message — those times when the odds are so improbably small that you’re left wondering if there could be something more behind it.

Initially.

We’re quick to brush off these eerily moments that feel oddly personal. Initial goosebumps turn into occasional ‘’do you remember when?’’ chats — usually with the same ending to them:

“What a coincidence.”

But was it really just a coincidence?
Or could it have been a synchronicity?

Syn-what?

The word coincidence itself is a variation of incidence:

“Something that just falls upon us.”

But, luckily for us, the insightful Carl Jung coined the term synchronicity.

What’s fascinating about synchronicities is that it suggests the universe operates not just through cause and effect. It hints at the possibility that events don’t happen randomly, but with intention.

According to Jung, synchronicities are meaningful coincidences — moments when inner experiences align with outer events in ways that can’t be explained by the rational mind. They hint at a deep connection between our inner world and the outer world, suggesting that perhaps the two are not as separate as they seem.

Ever since I came across the concept, I started to take notes of synchronicities in my life. Moments where the odds are so rare that I couldn’t ignore the feeling that something otherworldly was at play.

And the more I took note of them, the more they seemed to multiply.

“The intuitive mind is a sacred gift and the rational mind is a faithful servant. We have created a society that honors the servant and has forgotten the gift.” — Albert Einstein

When my quiet passion met a loud nudge

One of the most striking moments happened recently. I’d just started taking singing lessons — something I’d wanted to do for years. Singing has always been a quiet passion of mine. I’d sing under the shower, in the car, anywhere I could without an audience. I even came up with a name for it: caraoke — karaoke in the car. It’s how I hyped myself up for work on Monday mornings. It became the highlight of my office days. But eventually, I felt the nudge to take it more seriously.

Just two lessons in, I started having some doubts (hello, imposter syndrome). Should I continue this financial commitment? Wouldn’t it take a long time to get to a semi-decent level? What am I planning to achieve here anyway? Sure, I love the many sides that singing brings out of me. I feel more expressive and carefree (opposed to how I’m usually perceived: quiet and reserved). I fully immerse myself in any song. I like to put effort in picking an outfit that fits the theme. And I have a (seemingly useless) talent to remember lyrics faster than my GPS recalculating when I take a wrong turn. There’s a bit of a performer beneath the deep thinker.

But shouldn’t this just remain a hobby? Being the philosopher that I am, I’d been pondering this question.

One evening, I went for a walk in the woods. As someone who lives within a 5 minute walk from the forest, these walks have become my daily rhythm. I almost took my usual route, but something told me to turn left instead. And just a few minutes later, someone walked past me.

“Hi Janine.”

It was my singing teacher.

What are the odds? The forest is huge, and we live in different villages.

It was meaningful enough for me to keep going. A couple of days later, I was thinking of possible artist names. Just for fun. I’m still in the beginner phase, after all.

I settled for an artist name: Blue Lune. I liked it for several reasons. It’s a wordplay on blue moon. In my next singing lesson, my teacher hands me a sheet of music. We’re starting with lines from three songs:
Always look on the bright side of life.
I like the flowers.

And…

Blue moon.

“Instinct is a marvelous thing. It can neither be explained nor ignored.” — Agatha Christie

A different kind of synchronicity: when something is clearly not meant for you

We often seek signs that confirm we’re on the right path. But let’s not ignore the signs that say the exact opposite: this path is not for you. They’re just as important. Maybe even more so.

Ever since I’ve been looking for confirming signs, I’ve also become more aware of signs that communicate the opposite message.

Let me explain.

I’m at my worst when my day revolves around salesy conversations.
Unfortunately, there was this one time when I had to step in for our student recruiter at an international education fair in Bulgaria. The job? Talking (all day!) to potential students and their parents. From 9:00 to 17:00. Non-stop.

And pretty much everything that could go wrong… did.

The flight? Delayed.

The brochures I was supposed to hand out? Never arrived.

And when I tried to decompress the evening before with a stroll through the neighborhood, I was instantly scolded by a grumpy local for filming in the street.

In hindsight, the message couldn’t have been clearer.

I was not supposed to be the one doing this.

How to open up for synchronicities

At the core of synchronicities is syn — ‘together’. I totally understand now why I started noticing more synchronicities ever since I’ve been spending more time outdoors. Your outer world can only mirror your inner world when you take it outside — when you step out of your head and into the world around you.

These things might help you:

• Keep a journal. Write down “strange” or meaningful coincidences, no matter how small they seem.

• Stay open and curious. Instead of immediately brushing something off as random, pause and wonder: What might this be pointing me toward?

• Practice stillness. Even a few quiet minutes a day can sharpen your inner senses.

Have you ever felt like you’ve experienced synchronicities in your life? Moments that struck you with crystal-clear clarity that you’re on the right track? Or moments that felt like you were being gently redirected — nudged away from something that wasn’t quite right for you? Let me know in the comment section.