Is it a coincky-dink that Burning Man happens around my birthday, a wild arts festival held on a dusty desert in Nevada? What is more important than art, love, spirituality, and pyromania? I don't know, and perhaps I don't care. Perhaps I will go one day when I have a good grasp on my Self, because I don't really want to be shattered into a million shards over and over again if I can possibly help it.
Is it coincidence that Robert Bly has spoken to me in a deep way for the past couple of years, and I am just starting to read a classic book, Iron John, and that is speaking to me in a way that could never have happened before now? Is it a coincidence that Martin Prechtel was helped through his dark night of the soul by his friendship with Bly and his beautiful books have played a major part in shaping my consciousness this last year?