It’s A Small World After All

For most of today, I was not sure whether I really wanted to write about the day or not.  To be sure, it was a long day, and an interesting one, but I was not sure I wanted to take the time late in the night to write about yet another odd day where I rush from one activity to another [1].  I realized, though, that even if it cost me a bit of sleep it would be worthwhile to write about the weekend when I found myself in one of my fairly Nathanish coincidences, where when I was at dinner with some friends my noisiness about not wanting any bread until 8PM led a total stranger to come over to our table and introduce himself.  As it happens, they were in the booth right next to ours, and after chatting for a bit we found out he was in Cogwa and had a mutual friend in the patriarch of one of the families who appears often (although almost always unnamed) in this blog from their fellow truck driving experiences, and once this happened, I felt that writing about today was fairly inevitable, as I have opportunity to lament or celebrate that my being such a loudmouth tends to make life more interesting than it would be otherwise.  By the time I got home and let said gentleman know about the encounter, the other gentleman had already relayed it to him, which allowed me to have a rare online conversation with anyone from that family.

After that, I saw at least another reason why my day was sufficiently odd to be worthy of comment.  After leaving dinner, I drove home through negligible traffic to do some grocery shopping after sunset for the rest of the week where I could restock with my customary leavened items that I had refrained from eating the last few days.  I was still in my suit and tie, and was shopping as nonchalantly as possible.  Apparently, given the odd looks I got from small children and the way that people seemed to respond to my dress, I was not being nonchalant enough.  When I arrived home I found that I had two books and three cds that had arrived during my sojourn of a few days in the country, and a package full of membership forms for the Naval Historical Institute that I will be passing out at my talk about salvage efforts next month.  That reminds me I have some writing to do soon, as I dislike doing things at the last minute.  I find it interesting how I was given no warning about the package but was expected to know what to do based upon the contents of the package alone.  Apparently mind reading is something that is expected of me.

Mind-reading is apparently something that is expected or at least appreciated in my life, and today was an example of how odd of a turn that is.  For example, it turns out my roommate figured that I had gone for the weekend because I had brought the mail and left the house having locked it behind me, so that he knew I had come home and then left again.  That I judged as a reasonable assumption to make.  Earlier today I was chatting with our choir director before our performance, which appears to have gone well, and she commented that she trusted me to know where to go as far as the choir is concerned, as I was the first one on.  While we were still waiting we managed to have a brief chat about our mutual problems in feeling sick to our stomachs when we eat too much in the morning, which leads both of us to avoid eating breakfast regularly, or at least eating later.  That is an odd thing to have in common with someone, I must admit.  Later on we chatted about a video that had been recommend to me by one of other young people in the congregation, where she referred me to her mother to request it, and also chatted about the open speaking procedures of the Quakers, which she appeared to have a great degree of interest in.  I wondered, although I did not comment, if she feels somewhat envious of the fact that Quakers allow participation from any member in terms of speaking, while our church only has male speakers.  She is a sufficiently serious-minded young woman, that I imagine she could speak as well and be as insightful as many of the gentlemen who speak.  I certainly consider her a peer of mine in terms of her seriousness of thought and sense of wit, and that is not something I say lightly.  Also, somewhat oddly, she seemed heartened by my announcing to our group about five minutes before the afternoon services that I would be heading off to the stage to get ready for the ensemble.  I guess it was about as close to goodbye as her and I ever manage over the course of our unusual interactions.

Nor did that exhaust my odd interactions for the day.  What, after all, can one say about the fact that my name was mentioned by two of the speakers during services for different sermonettes I have given this month [2]?  Or what of the visitor to our congregation from ABC who sat next to me at lunch and somehow managed to compliment me on my tight hugs after the third time we had hugged over the course of that day?  Or what do I say about the interaction I had with a fellow musician after the afternoon services in which she lamented the way her ex sought to string her along with friendly family dinners to pretend as if everything was okay when it was not?  Or what do I say about the fact that at dinner one of the people suggested a trio with my mother and herself and I, which led me to research some songs when I got home to add to my busy schedule with a piece, while I also managed to get the sheet music for a piece where our congregation’s pastor wants me to add an instrumental bridge to give a bit of variety to a piece that would otherwise be pretty monotonous.  Also at dinner, our group reflected on the unpleasantness of dying alone, a thought that horrifies me?  How is someone like myself to sleep well at night when I have so many things to puzzle over, so many odd interactions to ponder, so many questions that remain unasked because I lack the time or opportunity in the face of so much to do and so many places to go and so many people whose behaviors I find as puzzling as they find me.  What does all of this mean?  Surely these things cannot be mere coincidence, or they would not keep happening over and over again.

[1] See, for example:

https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2017/04/12/reverse/

https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2011/03/12/double-booking-a-sabbath-tale/

https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2017/03/26/under-intense-scrutiny/

https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2017/03/05/i-wish-that-i-could-get-my-things-and-just-let-go/

https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2017/02/26/living-like-we-were-dying/

https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2016/08/29/overstaying-your-welcome/

https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2016/08/27/theres-a-tangled-thread-inside-my-head-with-nothing-on-either-end/

https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2016/06/14/betcha-never-think-its-right/

[2] See, for example:

https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2017/04/16/they-without-a-word-may-be-won-over-by-the-conduct-of-their-wives/

https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2017/04/02/yet-they-ate-the-passover-contrary-to-what-was-written/

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About nathanalbright

I'm a person with diverse interests who loves to read. If you want to know something about me, just ask.
This entry was posted in Christianity, Church of God, Musings and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to It’s A Small World After All

  1. Pingback: He Says He Has No Time | Edge Induced Cohesion

  2. Pingback: The Gathering Of The Chickens: Part One | Edge Induced Cohesion

  3. Pingback: A Sabbath Day’s Journey Or Two | Edge Induced Cohesion

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