This month I’ve been reading a book about coincidences. I mean, the book’s about quite a bit more than that, but the occurrence of coincidences is one of its major themes. The general idea is that our lives are constantly shaped by miniscule, chance events. We usually don’t pay them much mind, yet when one of these events happens to coincide in time with another, seemingly related event, it’s easy to interpret a greater meaning. In some extraordinary cases, coincidences can make one feel like an occurrence was fated to be.
Ever since moving to Holderness this last November, I’ve noticed that strange coincidences seem to be commonplace in the Squam Lakes region. There was that time when one of the winter AmeriCorps members and I both happened to buy the exact same slinky, from completely different stores, for the SLA’s White Elephant holiday party. Or how, without fail, “These Eyes” by The Guess Who came on the radio literally every time Alex and I drove to plow the Brooks Fisher Trailhead—the first time it happened we were so into scream-singing the song (“These eyes have seen a lot of loves but they’re never gonna see another one like I had with youuuuu!!”) that we soared right past the trailhead.
Since I’ve started reading this book, however, the frequency of these coincidences has kicked into overdrive. Last Wednesday, for example, our milfoil-removal dive team had the pleasure of being joined by a guest crewmember in the form of a ten-month-old mastiff named Cruiser. As we dove in (the aptly named) Dog Cove, Cruiser sat on the bank as close as he could get without his paws getting wet, and studiously observed our diver’s every move. John, who was playing the role of spotter, drifted his kayak over to me while I watched the diver from our boat, and said, “When I first saw that dog, I thought he was a deer.” Before the word “deer” had even been released into the air, just behind John’s head I saw a long, brown snout timidly peak out from behind a bush on the water’s edge. Redirecting John’s attention, we both watched as, inch by inch, the snout was revealed to be attached to the head and body of a small, white-tailed doe. After taking careful stock of her surroundings, the doe waded into the lake until all we could see was the top of her head and the rounded points of her ears, like the twin dorsal fins of two unusually hairy sharks. As we watched her swim from one side of the cove to the other, and eventually disappear into the brush on the opposite bank, it was astonishing to reflect on how our very first aquatic deer spotting just happened to occur at the exact moment that John said he thought he had seen a deer.
And, just to prove that I’m not imagining all of these coincidences, here’s a quick list of a few of the other less awe-inspiring ones:
My roommate Danielle’s knife slipped while she was slicing a pepper and she cut the tip of her thumb. To distract her from the pain, I picked up the book I was reading (the same one I mentioned earlier) and began to read to her from the chapter I was just about to start: “the sculptor made an instinctive grab for the finger he had nearly chopped off one day while whittling away at a wood statue. It was a miracle the finger had been saved.” She didn’t find the coincidence as entertaining as I did.
A few days later, Danielle showed me one of her favorite quotes written by an obscure science fiction author. That same author’s Wikipedia page just so happened to be the first tab currently open on my computer.
And, strangest of all, around four to five unrelated (as far as I know) strangers have talked to me about Weird Al within the last week. Maybe he had a concert in the area? Or I maybe I just give off “Weird Al fan” vibes.
So, before you write me off as some sort of coincidence-obsessed conspiracy theorist, I want to explain why I’m so fixated on coincidences at the moment. As my time with the SLA comes to an end, I’ve been reflecting on all of the chance events that led me to spend a year of my life in Holderness, NH. This has been an incredible year of new experiences and personal growth, and it’s all because I just happened to stumble across the position posting, I just happened to give it a shot and apply to a program in a small state completely across the country, and I just happened to choose this opportunity over all of the others I had applied to. If any of these events hadn’t occurred, the alternative chain of events would have resulted in a completely different year, and maybe even a different me. Similar chains of chance events also led all of my fellow LRCC members here to start this program at the same time as me, and if even one link in those chains of events had gone another way, I wouldn’t have met all of these amazing people who I now consider to be lifelong friends.
Now, as I apply to a number of potential “next steps,” each one paints a different vision of where it will take me and who I’ll become. It’s honestly hard not to become petrified by the future possibilities. But it’s also exciting. Hopefully, with a little luck, in the next couple of months I’ll find myself in a new position that will allow me to continue to grow and serve both the community and our environment as much as I have during my time here at the SLA.
Adel is a full-year member at the Squam Lakes Association who spent her time focusing on revamping our wood duck boxes, imputing and organizing water quality data, and planning for interpretive trail signage, among many other things. You can read more about Adel here.