The Curious Serendipity

I believe that there are no mere passersby in our lives. The people we encounter during our journey are a part of destiny and God's grand plan for us. Not everyone you meet will bring you pleasure; in fact, some may hurt you. But not every scar is meant to rot your soul forever. You can always draw a lesson even from the most painful experiences. Therefore, let's not take people for granted. It may sound a little rude, but one of my values is that I'd rather be a helpful idiot than an arrogant egoist because I believe each of us contributes to the balance and harmony in each other's lives. Can you imagine if somebody you didn't know privatized the oxygen, and you had to pay for every single breath? That's a simple example of how human lives are interconnected.

I learn a lot of lessons to become a better human from fellow humans. From kind folks, I certainly learn kindness. From self-centered folks, I also learn kindness in a way that I won't become like them. From hardworking folks, I learn that I have no limit to stretching my capabilities and so forth. I love to say that humans are the most sophisticated and dynamic encyclopedias that can help you be a good person if you are also a good student. An old philosophy said that a teacher will appear when the student is ready.

In this writing, I'd like to share a story about a curious serendipity I experienced. Sometimes, you are destined to meet a stranger who adds a lot of value to your life. Sometimes, you find a stranger who forms an odd connection with you. I have experienced this many times.

One of them saved my life when I was in high school. I was alone in the city area, not really familiar with the public transportation schedule in that particular city, and ended up missing the last bus. Walking back would take me 2-3 hours, and I would receive a penalty from the school guards if I arrived late. I was on the verge of crying since it was already dark. Suddenly, a woman on a motorbike approached and asked me where I was going. I answered, and she told me that she would take me home. I didn't think much about it, as it would be dangerous to go with a stranger. I knew the way, so I could tell if she planned on kidnapping me. I was quite cautious with people back then, but that short meeting taught me to lend a hand without questioning. I couldn't imagine if everyone who saw me at that time was too calculating. Would I have ever returned? Until now, I still wish that woman, whose face I have completely forgotten, happiness and luck in life and thereafter.

The next serendipity was also odd and inspired me in a magical way. When I was in Sendai back in 2012-2013, God made me meet a peculiar man in the city. I doubted that he was a human because his presence was kind of surreal and unfathomable to me. I didn't know his name, nor did I care about it, but I got to see him every single day without ever planning it. Of course, we didn't know each other. Sometimes we met in the library, sometimes in the campus cafeteria, and sometimes in the big city center. Wherever the places were, we met every day to the point I began to question the coincidence. No, he definitely wasn't stalking me.

If I were to describe his appearance, he looked kind of sad. He was tall for an average Japanese person and very lean, to the point where I was sure a strong wind would knock him down anytime. What worried me was that he had no hair on his face or head! He wore a beanie that covered his eyebrows, but once he took it off, you could see that he had no eyebrows and was completely bald. I saw him through all four seasons, and despite the temperature, he never took off his jacket or wore shorts. His skin was pale white, as if he had never been exposed to the sun. No, he didn't look scary. As I mentioned, he looked sad and gloomy.

I wondered whether he was battling a terminal disease, as I knew people who undergo chemotherapy would often lose their hair. Or was he a monk? I had met some monks in temples, and all of them were bald. Was he really sick? I wasn't certain when it was, but I started worrying and praying for him during my regular prayers. I began to notice that he was always alone and never smiled. I wasn't interested in talking to him at all. I was too shy to showcase my broken Japanese.

A few weeks before my return to Indonesia, I noticed that he was no longer in my regular places. He wasn't in the library, the cafeteria, the whole campus area, or even the city. When I started questioning this, it had been weeks since I last saw him. A chill wind stroked my neck as bad thoughts approached me. Was he okay? Was he hospitalized? Did he die? I remember praying even harder for him. I hope that lonely stranger was fine. If only I had been a little more confident, I could have at least smiled at him. He might not have realized that there were many times when I felt lonely and weary after spending hours in the library, but the sight of him made me feel a little bit relieved. His sad figure looked sturdy and strong at the same time. He inspired me in a strange way. Well, not that I knew anything about him to begin looking for him.

It was summer in 2013 at that time. Summer in Japan was like how it had been portrayed in its popular culture: hot, bright, and sticky. Knowing that I would miss my ritual in Tsutsujigaoka Park, about two weeks before my departure, I went there almost every day. It was located almost 30 minutes away by cycling from the Kawauchi campus. The distance was not a problem at all. It was my favorite park and also a sanctuary where I would write lots of poems and learn about the Samurai's way of life called Bushido, my obsession back then.

On that particular day, just a few days before my departure, I planned to visit the park right from the campus. I was cycling down the hill, passing a bridge over the Hirose River until I finally reached the city area. There, while I was cycling on the bike lane on Jozenji Street, I was startled by the presence of a familiar guy. That skinny, pale guy was only a few meters away in front of me on his bicycle!

He was heading towards me. I slowed down my bike in shock and relief, for he was still alive. Our bikes were getting closer. When our eyes met, he smiled gently and nodded his head, just like how a polite Japanese person would greet someone. I remember smiling widely in return. I turned my head to make sure I wasn't imagining things. He was still on his bike, cycling straight until the end of the road.

I thanked God for the magic. The last time I had seen him, he was fine and smiling! I hope he is still doing well now, wherever he is and whatever he is doing.

***

One day, I talked to my best friend about this. I told her that some people seemed to be brought into our lives by the wind. The meeting was natural and required no drama, but they added value to our lives. My friend told me that there are many angels sent by God into this world, and some of them might disguise themselves as humans. "Who knows if that man was one of them, sent to make sure you were doing okay in Japan?" she said. Well, I don't know, nor do I care. Whatever God planned with his presence, the man surely gave me a companionship I didn't know I needed. For the kindness and lessons he unconsciously brought, I am grateful and will always be thankful for him.

I still have this photo of sakura in Tsutsujigaoka. Don't they look divine?