Living by Coincidence: How Synchronicities Shape our Lives by Laura Bas Conn
Synchronicity: “Meaningful coincidences” — events that occur together without logical or causal connection, yet are perceived as deeply significant by the observer.
When I was a little girl, I would often sneak into my mother’s bedroom to admire her book collection. I never dared borrow anything without her permission, though, as she was always truthful when I asked about any book: this one you won’t understand yet; this one is too strong for you now. She always kept my age in mind because, after all, she had a sizeable section of spicy gothic-horror romance novels. We all have our guilty pleasures.
Out of all the volumes, one book in her collection always drew me in: The Mists of Avalon, by Marion Zimmer Bradley, for the simple reason that its cover, with a shining white horse and a fine lady with a sword, always caught my eye. I drew that cover more than once during my childhood, and when my mother deemed me old enough, she let me read it. I always remember it fondly, though I think I may still have been too young for it at the time.
In 2022, late in the year, I was visiting Uppsala, a city where I used to live. There is a wonderful store called The English Bookshop, my absolute favourite place, filled with the personal touch of a caring staff and the whimsy that all book lovers seem to carry about them. Every time I visit, I have a list of books in mind to buy from them, but this cold November I was to be disappointed, it seemed, for I could not find any of the books on my list.
As I wandered among the shelves, somewhat bereft, a book caught my eye, lying on its side, jammed on a shelf where it clearly didn’t belong. My hand reached out for it, acting on its own, and as I pulled it out, I was looking at that same fine lady with a sword and the beautiful white horse that captivated me for years. My heart skipped a beat. This image, long forgotten, immediately transported me back to my mother’s bedroom, looking at the exact same cover as when I was a child.
Oh, the joys of re-reading such a book at different stages in life. What as a young girl was a simple fantasy story, as an adult was a riveting tale of nature, love, loss, magic and, above all, spirituality. I grew up in catholic Spain, feeling afraid of and detached from religion, and here in my hands was a book that told a story of a pagan past where people were still a part of nature, and everything in me yearned for this. It touched me so deeply, I was moved for days after I finished it. Something stirred in me that I had not felt since I was a teenager; something I had lost along the way, in the monotonous life of an adult with a day job, making ends meet, over years of routine.
A mere month later, the book well and finished, I found myself at another bookshop. This time, it’s Shakespeare and Company, in Paris, where I’m visiting a beloved friend who has always kept magic alive for me. The universe is not done with me yet; once again, as I wandered among the shelves, a lovely purple book stood out to me (purple is, after all, my favourite colour). “A beginner’s guide to Wicca”, by Kirsten Riddle. The book is pretty, and I buy it for that sole reason. Some hours later, sitting with a cup of coffee in my friend’s apartment in view of Notre Dame, I started reading it. My skin prickled, my heart raced; surely this book couldn’t be describing the same religion, the same ideas, the same connection to nature that so captivated me from The Mists of Avalon?
Synchronicities, however, can be slow; or maybe it’s us that are slow in understanding. A life cannot change from one day to the next. At least, these books that the universe gifted me inspired me to pick up a hobby I’d always dreamed of: growing plants and learning to identify them in the wild, as any good wise woman does. A whole year went by, with these things in my heart growing slowly.
Another November, another bookshop. Turns out, the English Bookshop had opened a store in Gothenburg, where I find myself hunting for books about pagan religions and witchcraft, because I wished to know more. Alas, I found nothing that interested me; no treatises on this beautiful pagan world painted by Wicca, no tales about druids and bards. Only burnings of witches and some old mythology.
I couldn’t let it go. I had a long train ride home ahead of me, and I started googling about the Mists of Avalon, and ended up in reddit, and in other places, and the cat comes out of the bag. I found Margaret Murray, scholar fallen from grace, who wished so hard for a distant past of a nature religion where women were not oppressed that she conducted negligent research that is now refuted, all in order to make it real. At first, I am heartbroken; surely, this beautiful world where humans and nature were one, where men and women lived in harmony honouring the seasons, fertility, magic and the natural world, must have existed?
In my investigations, I came across a name: Ronald Hutton, the most renown historian of neo-pagan religions. He has a whole book on the creation of Wicca. I started the audiobook version the day after, and I was enthralled. How unbelievable, how magical, the turns history can take; how amazing that the cumulation of centuries of ceremonial magic, the remnants of the distant past present in folk belief, and the longing for something that was lost during the industrialization of the world led to the creation of such a beautiful religion as Wicca, and neo-druidism, and all the neo-pagan forms of spirituality.
I was inspired beyond belief; such a thorough researcher, this historian, who with care and respect for the topic, with love for the subject, can still disentangle a good hundred years of misinformation in popular belief. I no longer felt heartbroken or betrayed; this was fascinating! What a joy, the putting together of all the puzzle pieces. I vaguely remember telling my father, as a child, that if I didn’t become a veterinarian, I wanted to be a private detective when I grew up. I’ve done the one, and something in me never lost the passion for solving a good mystery, it seems.
I got a phone call from work one morning, while I was out walking and listening to Hutton’s book. All the laboratory technicians may get fired before the year is out; the university has no money for research.
I felt joy.
Something in me was freed. As I continued walking out in the cold with my dog, all I could think was, I can do whatever I want now. I felt like something finally clicked in me; this growing longing, this connection to a younger version of me who understood well what it was to pursue your passions regardless of risk. I knew what I wanted to do.
I worked one more year. Turns out, they never had to fire any of us; they sorted it out with the money. Everyone is relieved. But I quit anyway. One bad piece of news changed my life, on top of a series of coincidences that are too obvious to be just that. Now I’m studying at university to become a folklorist. I want to be a researcher: I want to know all about magic, witches, magical practitioners, traditions, rituals, and all things in between. I want to disentangle the myth from the fact, while keeping alive in my heart my love for the world portrayed in The Mists of Avalon.
A life cannot change over a day, but given enough signs from the universe, over time, we can follow the thread that is there, if only we are willing to see it. Bad news can be blessings in disguise, and a book out of place in your favourite shop can change your life.
Laura Bas Conn is a pagan witch living in Sweden. She has a passion for historical research, folklore, witchcraft and esotericism. She is known online as The Witch of Hågadalen.
