Synchronicity Strikes Again

Zither music softly sweetens my room as I wind down for the day. I can feel it numbing my arms, lowering my heart rate, and slowing my breathing to a deeper, gentler rhythm. Rarely heard, it's a beautiful stringed instrument that deserves more exposure, one that can become a remedy for a heavy soul. Through the vibrations strummed by a well-choreographed hand, the world's a little bit brighter. The moon glows with increased richness and illumination.

I bought this CD off a small band playing at Oktoberfest in Glendale, Wisconsin over the weekend. Originally intending to drink myself shit-faced with imported German beers, I found myself parked around a small tent, resting under a tree with a stein in hand. I listened intently as one of the performers plucked the strings of a zither in conjunction with a guitar and accordion, and I felt my fingers plucking along, intertwining within the blades of grass around me.

Never before had I heard a zither outside of the soundtrack for The Third Man, one of my favorite films. I would know it too, if I had. The instrument has a very distinct sound - a very magical sound. Had I been paying attention to my surroundings, I probably would have seen sprites float up from the grass, dancing with each other under the setting sun as the band played on the outer skirts of the festival.

Magical. That's a fantastic word to describe that moment. It was an emotion that rarely finds me, and when it does, it's usually when I least expect it too. For that night, I just wanted to toss my mind in the throes of alcohol. I wanted to permit the liquid spirits to overcome me and play out an adventure that I would later remember in fragmented flashbacks.

However, synchronicity would have its way with me. The reason I purchase the CD and listened to the band was because of the zither. Walking by, bratwurst in hand, I thought I heard that rare instrument coming from the tent. Wishing to reaffirm my ego and prove my hypothesis correct, I stood near a tree just outside the tent and watched for a moment as one song ended and a new one started up.

It was the theme for The Third Man. Weird. I had never heard that before publicly, and I've spent many weekends at various German festivals and other cultural festivals, listening to more ethnic music. Also, I loved that song. Upon seeing the movie for the first time, I promptly downloaded it illegally and played it on repeat for hours on end, soaking in its harmony like one would a hot bath.



The next song played was Lili Marlene. I froze. Every festival I have attended that could have had the opportunity to play this song at some point, never did. I was always disappointed because out of all the old German songs I had on CD, Lili Marlene was often ignored. Yet, here it was, back-to-back with one of my favorite movie themes. How strange is it that two of my favorite, yet rarely heard, songs are played in conjunction like that with a zither no less?!



My mind is prone to add meaning to events like these. It's prone to take these magical moments and look at them through a mystical lens where I am but a piece of a higher power, where I am a bit of consciousness with a subconsciousness connected to some strange universal subconsciousness. The notion that these two songs were played back-to-back, both digging deep into my memory banks and withdrawing strong feelings, was an indication that Lady Fate had thrown me another bone.

While fame and steady paychecks elude me, there is still some solace to take in the little, magical, seemingly coincidental moments of life like these. They bring me back to my base, reminding me of my core personality away from the booze, food, flashing lights, and toys of a consumerist society.

I guess Lady Fate isn't so bad. Now, if she can help me out with the steady paycheck department, I'd be eternally grateful.