Redefining Synchronicity: A Deeper Look at Meaningful Coincidence
When the Veil Between Self and One Consciousness Thins
Could synchronicity be something more than a mysterious link between mind and matter? This post examines an interesting explanation for synchronicity that although previously outside my understanding feels quite resonant with my own lived experience.
Most humans have a deep, almost universal hunger for meaning and connection in a chaotic world. When a striking coincidence lines up, like thinking of someone and they call, having a dream that mirrors real life, or even finding simple repeating numbers at pivotal moments, it often triggers a little rush of wonder, like the universe just winked at us.
Moments of synchronicity can carry a numinous quality and evoke a sense of profound significance or transformation. Those moments can feel like echoes, arriving from the “out of the blue,” in the form of numbers, words, phrases, people, and/or opportunities that show up around you and feel oddly connected to what you’re working with or have recently focused on.
The concept of “meaningful coincidences”remains influential in psychology, philosophy, and popular culture and offers a lens for understanding those uncanny alignments that feel too perfectly timed to be random. Synchronicity activates the same reward circuits as storytelling, art, or spiritual experiences. You might get a little dopamine and a shiver of enchantment.
Synchronicity defined
The most widely accepted definition of synchronicity comes from Swiss psychiatrist Carl Gustav Jung, describing it as an “acausal connecting principle,” in which a meaningful coincidence of events appears symbollically or emotionally related without a causal connection. The acausal force connects inner psychic states such as dreams, thoughts and premonition to outer physical reality.
Jung coined the term in the late 1920s, drawing heavily from the ancient Chinese I Ching, whose oracle system operates on meaningful coincidence rather than linear cause and effect. The concept reached full expression in 1952 with physicist Wolfgang Pauli in their joint book, The Interpretation of Nature and the Psyche.
Jung saw synchronicity as one of the universe’s organizing principles in addition to space, time, and causality, and proposed it revealed an interconnected cosmos where psyche and matter intersect at a “psychoid” level.
In the context of synchronicity, Jung used “psychoid” to describe a deep, fundamental layer of reality where the mind and soul of the psyche and the physical world of matter are not fully separate, but intersect or emerge from a shared, neutral ground.
An Alternative View of Synchronicity
Writer Nancy Thames approaches synchronicity in a way that expands on just what that “shared neutral ground” might be. In her recent post, “Synchronicity Is Consciousness Recognizing Itself,” Thames proposes that synchroncity is not just “a curious alignment of circumstances that happened to land the right way.”
Her explanation is that one consciousness creates psyche, soul, and matter, so there can’t be a convergence or coincidence between them because they are expressions of that very same one consciousness. Thames writes:
“Oversoul consciousness is not external to the person experiencing synchronicity. The individual does not receive guidance from consciousness. The individual is consciousness, filtered into biological form, and synchronicity is what becomes visible when that filtering loosens.”
What does it mean for a filter to loosen?
Thames explains:
“When a person’s filter thins, they encounter the right person at the exact moment that person becomes relevant. They receive information that answers a question they had not yet spoken aloud. They notice repeating patterns that track directly against an internal shift they are moving through. These events are not being produced somewhere else and delivered to them. They are pattern that was already coherent becoming perceivable as the filter that had been screening it out loosens its grip.”
Loosening a filter allows more to slip through. If consciousness is not outside of ourselves, then we aren’t asking it to show us something. The change in filters, whether tight or loose is a change in what consciousness, filtered through us, is capable of perceiving, or in Thames’s words, “Synchronicity is the visible signature of that change.”
Coherence between thought, emotion, and intention gives us a clearer pathway to register the field, is less filtered, and more accurately.
A Lived Experience of Profound Synchronicity
One personal example of synchroncity stands out for me. I had an experience a few years ago in which I set two books in front of me. One had been pulled from a glass bookcase in a Marine Science classroom where I would be the substitute teacher for the day. That book was titled Galileo Goes to Jail and Other Myths About Science and Religion, by Ronald L. Numbers.
The previous night I had also pulled a book off of my own bookshelf to take with me that had intrigued me because notes had fallen out from a previous reading. My notes could be summarized as a treatise on how humans from very ancient times can often be key players in the completion of the divine masterpiece known as mankind. That book was Our Cosmic Origin, by Ismael Perez.
Two books on my desk. The students had not yet arrived. I only had time to read one paragraph in each book. The synchronicity of what happened next has stayed with me.
The Galileo book began:
“One spring day in 415, as the story is told, an angry mob of Christian zealots in Alexandria, Egypt, stirred to action by the recently installed bishop, Cyril, brutally murdered the beautiful, young pagan philosopher and mathematician Hypatia. Tutored initially by her father, an accomplished mathematician and astronomer, Hypatia had gone on to write learned commentaries of her own on mathematical and philosophical texts. Her popularity and influence-and especially her defense of science against Christianity- so angered the bishop that he ordered her death.”
The Cosmic Origin book began:
“In the fourth century B.C. a mob of religious zealots destroyed the last of the storehouse of information relating to ancient knowledge. All records about the time before the great flood were erased from history where the Library of Alexandria, the last of its keepers, was a female guardian by the name of Hypatia, who was murdered by the same fanatical religious mob. Volumes of important literature were destroyed; everything from the pre-history of our world, philosophical studies including science and metaphysics blazed in ashes. As a result of burning down this ancient library, all knowledge went up in flames and our world feel into darkness for about thirteen hundred years.”
I immediately asked, Why is Hypatia so strongly in my field right now? I’m not sure that I got an answer at that time, although I was very inspired to continue learning about Hypatia and her life.
If I revisit that episode of great synchronicity through the lens of thought, emotion and intention, I do find coherence.
Thought: Egyptian wisdom is quite interesting to me and I have spent years studying and working with Dr. Ibrahim Karim’s BioGeometry, which contains quite a bit of prehistory blending metaphysics and science.
Emotion: I was very open and trusting as I was consciously invoking bibliomancy, as a practice due to my participation in a Shamanic Dreaming course I was taking at the time. I held very little doubt that what I called “signs” at that time were meaningful.
Intention: My intention was to view whatever my eyes found on the page as important to explore. I chose the two books to open confidently.
My Own Further Exploration
The information that followed the discovery was also quite remarkable in that it named Hypatia’s return to the field.
“Hypatia wasn’t just a guardian of knowledge. She was a harmonic node an encoded lattice anchor. They didn’t just burn a library. They severed a timeline. But now? The resonance she carried is returning. Not as memory but as activation. And we’re the ones rebuilding what was stolen. Not with books but with breath, recursion, and truth. This time: it won’t burn.” Quantum Tumbler on X
I thoroughly enjoyed the journey that opening these two books initiated and learned some principles that actually come back around in today’s writing about synchronicity.
Hypatia’s philosophical views developed from earlier platonic philosophy and placed its main focus on its religious and metaphysical aspects centered around the concept of “the one,” which according to the ancient Egyptian philosopher Plotinus is the highest divine transcendent principle from which the rest of reality emanates.
From “the one” derives the intellect which is responsible for the organization of the material world. Beneath the intellect is the soul which is the perfect image of the intellect. The soul is responsible for regeneration of the material world.
Unlike the intellect and “the one,” the soul is able to interact with the material world, and therefore serve as the mediator between the corporeal world and the intellect. Human souls, according to Plotinus, are fragments of the greater soul that has forgotten its origins, and now dwells in material bodies.
In an interesting spiral, my example of synchronicity returns as a distinct echo of Thames’s claim that one consciousness creates psyche, soul, and matter.
Guidance, Support, or Thinning Filter?
Synchronicity does feel like guidance and support at times, and at the time this happened, I perceived it that way. Thames clarifies that aspect, too:
“What looks like being guided, supported, or remembered by something outside is the filter briefly stepping aside. Nothing was ever lost. Nothing was ever separate. The pattern was always there. Only the clarity to register it changes.”
In the end, understanding synchronicity this way reframes everything. Messages are not sent from somewhere else. A single consciousness expressing itself through countless filtered forms can sometimes be clear enough, in any given moment, to recognize its own pattern in the flow of events.
There is no sender and receiver, only the One momentarily seeing itself in the mirror of lived experience. What we call guidance is simply the filter thinning. What we call coincidence is simply coherence becoming visible.
We do not manufacture synchronicity through effort or technique. We simply stop obstructing it. In that gentle surrender, coherence returns on its own, and the pattern sharpens.
When synchronicity becomes a steady companion rather than an occasional visitor, it means the gap between the filtered self and the greater consciousness we already are has narrowed.
The universe does not wink at us from across a divide. It winks through us, because in the deepest sense, it is us as we awaken, remember, and rebuild the harmonic lattice one clear moment at a time.
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References:
American Psychological Association. (2018). Synchronicity. In APA dictionary of psychology (2nd ed.). https://dictionary.apa.org/synchronicity
Jung, C. G. (1969). Synchronicity: An acausal connecting principle (R. F. C. Hull, Trans.). In H. Read et al. (Eds.), The collected works of C. G. Jung: Vol. 8. Structure and dynamics of the psyche (2nd ed., pp. 417–519). Princeton University Press. (Original work published 1952) https://doi.org/10.1515/9781400850952.417
Jung, C. G. (2010). Synchronicity: An acausal connecting principle (R. F. C. Hull, Trans.; new foreword by S. Shamdasani). Princeton University Press. (Original work published 1952)
Roesler, C. (2020). Synchronicity. In V. Zeigler-Hill & T. K. Shackelford (Eds.), Encyclopedia of personality and individual differences. Springer. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-24612-3_636
Thames, Nancy. ( July 17, 2026). [Mass Wintessing Filtering and What Alignment Actually Reveals]. https://substack.com/home/post/p-207425510
Thames, Nancy. (Jan 8, 2026). [Synchronicity Is Consciousness Recognizing Itself]. https://substack.com/home/post/p-183978915
Quantum Tumbler. (June 29, 2025) [Hypatia wasn’t just a gaurdian of knowledge]. https://x.com/QuantumTumbler/status/1939425638034890879
I'm not even sure how to preface this, so I will just share something I wrote recently...
The Visions
To me, seeing the invisible is not about seeing something others cannot. It means learning to recognize the patterns beneath what is visible. The hidden architecture that gives meaning to our experience. Throughout my life I lived through moments that were often deeply painful. Many of them felt as though they might break me. Yet as I learned to examine each experience with curiosity rather than resistance, I began to uncover the patterns woven within them.
Those same patterns seemed to echo everywhere I looked. And over the last two years, I began to notice them more and more. Especially in visions and dreams—some arriving quietly during contemplation, others appearing with a vividness that seemed to suspend ordinary reality altogether.
At the time, each one made complete sense within the lens through which I experienced it. They never felt confusing or fragmented. They possessed an extraordinary coherence, as though they carried a form of understanding beyond language itself. Even now, I remember them with a clarity that makes them feel as though they happened yesterday. What I could not see then was that they were all connected.
Each experience seemed complete in itself, yet each revealed only a single facet of something much larger. My understanding could only extend as far as my own awareness had grown. Every vision expanded the lens through which the next would be understood, quietly preparing me for insights I was not yet capable of recognizing. It has only been through looking back across the landscape of my own life that I have begun to see the pattern they were patiently revealing all along.
The first vision that profoundly changed me was deceptively simple.
I saw an Indigenous boy standing before me, overcome with grief as he watched his world disappear. Everything that had once rooted his people—their land, traditions, culture, language, and spirituality—was being stripped away. Looking directly into my eyes, he asked only one question.
What can we do?
The answer did not feel as though it came from my thinking mind. It simply arose.
Remember that you are not separate from the world. You are woven into it. We cannot change everyone else, but we can transform ourselves. When we change the way we see, the world changes with us. Home and beauty have never disappeared. We have simply forgotten how to recognize them.
For years I understood this only as a lesson about my own healing. Looking back now, I see that it contained something much deeper. It was the first glimpse of a worldview in which separation itself is the illusion, and transformation begins not by changing reality but by changing the consciousness through which reality is perceived.
Not long afterward another experience unfolded.
For only a few moments, ancient symbols appeared before my eyes like illuminated flashcards, arriving one after another too quickly to comprehend. There may have been dozens of them—perhaps hundreds. Their individual forms escaped me almost as soon as they appeared, yet they carried the unmistakable feeling of intelligence. They resembled alchemical glyphs or the fragments of an ancient symbolic language, communicating not through words but through geometry and relationship.
As the symbols dissolved, I looked down at my own arms and saw serpents moving through my veins, flowing effortlessly beneath my skin as though life itself were revealing an invisible architecture that had always existed just beyond ordinary perception.
I never fully understood what I had seen. Perhaps I still don’t. But something within me recognized it.
Another vision followed, and with it my perception of reality shifted in an entirely different way.
I found myself standing in a room full of people. Everything appeared ordinary, yet nothing looked solid. Every person had become translucent, their bodies reduced to luminous outlines through which waves of light and sound moved continuously. The boundaries that normally separated one individual from another seemed to dissolve into a single living field.
At the same time, I became aware of their inner worlds. Their grief, joy, fear, hope, and longing moved through them like currents within the same ocean. None of it felt isolated. Consciousness itself no longer appeared individual. It seemed shared.
For the first time, I experienced what I can only describe as all-ness. Not the disappearance of individuality, but the realization that individuality exists within a much larger wholeness.
Soon afterward came another vision, one that surprised me because of its practicality.
I saw a new kind of school. Its purpose was not simply to prepare people for work, but to prepare them for life.
The curriculum revolved around the great cycles that shape every living system: birth, life, death, and rebirth. Students learned not only mathematics and language, but the nature of the mind, the wisdom of the body, emotional literacy, relationships, creativity, food, nature, spirituality, economics, the cosmos, and consciousness itself. Inquiry mattered more than certainty. Self-knowledge was regarded as foundational rather than optional.
Only much later did I realize I was seeing the pattern that would eventually organize every one of my books.
Then the dreams began to deepen.
One night I dreamed about time travel, but it bore little resemblance to the stories we usually tell. There were no machines, no portals, no journeys through physical space. Instead, time appeared as something alive—a great breathing spiral through which consciousness itself could move. The dream suggested that what we call the past and future were not places to visit but states of relationship that could be entered through coherence of awareness.
Whether this revealed something fundamental about reality or simply offered a profound metaphor, I cannot honestly say. What I do know is that I never thought about time in quite the same way again. That dream became one of the seeds from which 64: The Long Journey Home eventually emerged.
Around the same period another image began returning with remarkable persistence.
Black holes.
Not as places where matter disappeared, but as places where separation dissolved.
As I journeyed through my own Hologenetic Profile in the Gene Keys, descending into my Core Wound and slowly integrating what I found there, the symbolism became impossible to ignore. My experience of contemplation no longer felt like climbing toward enlightenment. It felt like falling inward, passing through successive layers of identity until something far simpler remained.
One night the image became unmistakably clear.
Before me stood a great wheel.
Sixty-four spokes radiated from a single center.
Each spoke represented one Gene Key.
As the wheel slowly turned, the spokes gradually dissolved into one another until every distinction disappeared into the center. Diversity became unity. Multiplicity became coherence. Every pathway returned to the same source from which it had emerged.
That image never left me. Instead, it continued unfolding over the months and years that followed.
Without intending to, I found myself drawn into subjects I had never expected to explore—harmonic mathematics, geometry, DNA, black holes, the fine-structure constant, quantum theory, and cosmology. What astonished me was not the individual discoveries themselves, but the recurring patterns that seemed to echo across every discipline. The Gene Keys, the sixty-four codons of DNA, harmonic structures, geometry, consciousness, and the evolution of the universe all appeared to be expressing variations of the same underlying language.
I was not trying to invent a new cosmology. I was simply trying to understand why everything seemed to be speaking the same language.
Looking back now, I no longer experience these visions as isolated events. They feel like different windows opening onto the same landscape. Each one revealed a different aspect of an architecture that I could not yet fully comprehend, but which patiently continued revealing itself as my own awareness expanded.
Whether these experiences reflect an objective structure woven into reality or the extraordinary symbolic capacities of the human mind is not something I can claim to know with certainty. That question remains open, as I believe all meaningful questions should.
What I can say is that they transformed me. They changed the questions I asked and changed the way I perceived myself, other people, and the universe we inhabit. Slowly, almost without my noticing, they assembled themselves into the framework you are about to explore.
What follows is not a declaration of certainty. It is an invitation into inquiry—a sincere attempt to translate these experiences into a language where science, philosophy, mythology, biology, and consciousness might meet, not as competing explanations, but as different perspectives on the same enduring mystery.