This Wasn’t a Coincidence… Was It?

I don’t tend to believe in coincidences.

Not because I think everything is perfectly orchestrated down to the minute, but because every now and then life hands you a moment that feels just a little too precise to be random. Not loud, not dramatic — just quietly, almost playfully… placed.

This was one of those moments.

A couple of weeks ago, I set out to get Persephone taken care of. Nothing deep or philosophical about it — just practical life stuff. If she’s going to carry me out into the world, she deserves a bit of protection in return. So, window tint and a clear bra it was. Functional. Responsible. Look at me making solid adult decisions.

A friend connected me with Israel and his shop, and from the start, it was easy. He’s kind, grounded, does great work — the kind of interaction that doesn’t require effort. You just know you’re in good hands.

Everything went smoothly. I picked her up, admired how good she looked, mentally checked that box, and moved on with life.

Done.

Or so I thought.

Today I went back for the standard two-week checkup — the quick once-over to make sure everything settled properly and to touch up anything that needed adjusting. It was one of those simple, in-and-out errands you don’t give a second thought to.

While they were redoing the mirrors, we talked. Just normal conversation. Nothing profound, nothing memorable. The kind of exchange that usually fades into the background of your day.

As I was getting ready to leave, I mentioned Club One. It’s a newer spot in town, and I casually told him he should check it out if he hadn’t already.

He smiled immediately and said he’d already been there and really liked it.

So I added — without thinking much of it — that my son’s company had done the stage lighting for the shows there. Still just conversation. Still nothing unusual.

Then I mentioned the name of my son’s company.

And that’s when the moment shifted.

Not dramatically. Not in a way that would make anyone else in the room stop and stare. But in that subtle, unmistakable way where something suddenly clicks.

He looked at me, recognition hitting before the words fully formed, and said, “No way… I know Tim. We DJ’d together when they were hosting DJs and streaming on Twitch.”

And just like that, the entire interaction changed shape.

Out of all the places I could have gone… all the people I could have met… I ended up sitting there with someone who already knew my son — not through some distant chain of connections, but through shared experience. Real overlap. Real life intersecting with real life.

That’s not something you plan, and at some point, it stops feeling random altogether. It starts to feel like you’ve just bumped into something that was already there — quietly existing, whether you noticed it or not.

Because the more I sat with that moment, the more it softened something in me. Not in a dramatic, life-altering way, but in that steady, grounding way where you suddenly realize how much of life is happening beneath the surface of what we see.

We tend to move through our days as if we’re separate, as if our lives run alongside each other without really touching unless we make a conscious effort to connect. But that assumption doesn’t hold up very well when something like this happens. It gently exposes how much overlap is already there — how many invisible threads exist between people, places, and experiences.

It made me think about how often we pass by connections without ever realizing it. How many times we sit in the same spaces as people who are somehow linked to us, how many conversations stay on the surface when just one more sentence might reveal something unexpected.

They say it’s six degrees of separation, that anyone can be connected through a chain of six people. Maybe that’s true in theory, but in real life, it rarely feels that distant. Moments like this don’t feel like six degrees. They feel close. Immediate. Like the gap between “stranger” and “connected” was never that wide to begin with.

And maybe that’s the point.

Maybe connection isn’t something we have to chase or manufacture. Maybe it’s already woven into our lives in ways we don’t fully recognize yet, and every now and then, we’re given a moment where one of those threads becomes visible.

Just long enough for us to notice.

Just long enough to remember.

I left the shop smiling — not because of the mirrors, although they did a beautiful job — but because something about that interaction lingered. It shifted the feeling of the day ever so slightly. It made the world feel a little smaller in the best possible way… and a little more connected than it had a few minutes before.

And honestly, I think we underestimate how much those moments matter.

Not because they’re rare, but because we’re not always paying attention.

If you’ve ever had one of those moments — the kind where the world suddenly feels smaller, where a “stranger” turns out not to be so separate after all — you already know what I’m talking about. There’s a quiet sense of recognition in it. Not just of the other person, but of something deeper.

And if you haven’t noticed one in a while, it might not be because they’re not happening.

It might just be that life has been loud enough to drown them out.

If this stirred something in you — curiosity, recognition, that subtle “wait… maybe there’s more here” — this is exactly the kind of doorway we walk through together inside Matters of Perspective®.

Not to chase connection.

But to start seeing what’s already there.

To recognize the patterns, the beliefs, and the quiet assumptions shaping how you move through the world — and gently shift them into something more aligned, more grounded, and a whole lot more you.

If you’re ready for that kind of shift, you know where to find me.

And if not… just stay curious.

Life has a funny way of connecting the dots when you least expect it.