When can unlikely experiences occurring in close time proximity be considered more than mere coincidences? At what point might they constitute "synchronicity" or "divine providence"? Synchronicity, as theorized by psychologist Carl Jung, results from causally unrelated events occurring improbably and meaningfully together. Many attribute such synchronistic meaning to God.

I recently found synchronicity in a series of events beginning with an e-mail invitation from my close friend, John. He had maintained sporadic contact with two former colleagues, Randy and Ray, whom I hadn't seen since 1987, when we worked together with troubled teens. Occasionally, we had also imbibed together and would wax so philosophical that John christened us, "Men of the Path."

Last fall, John invited us on three days' notice to his Outer Banks beach house for the weekend. Considering that a hurricane and a Nor'easter were buffeting North Carolina, and we lived several states apart, I seriously doubted our reunion's likelihood.

I was dead wrong. First, Randy related that, immediately after reviewing John's e-mail correspondence from the prior year, John's current invitation popped onto his screen. Randy's reply: "This synchronicity means I must come." John's subsequent response stated that, the day before, he heard male voices repeatedly call his name. After his wife convinced him that she'd heard nothing, he decided the Men of the Path had called, thus prompting his invitation.

Given that my wife considers me a chronic skeptic, I surprised her by insisting, "I need to be there too." As further proof, I testified that the very last beer crossing my lips prior to John's e-mail was Three Philosophers' Ale. (OK, maybe I read too much into that.)

Before I left, I received a private e-mail from John asking me if I might locate "The Healing Game," a CD by Van Morrison. I couldn't, so I substituted Van's "Best of" CD, containing several "Healing Game" songs. To our surprise, soon after Randy arrived, he spontaneously mentioned that he had wanted to bring "The Healing Game" with him. John and I stared at each another, astounded at this coincidence.

A few hours later, Randy asked if any of us had ever read the poet Wendell Berry. Unbeknownst to Randy, that very day, I had finished reading an interview with Wendell Berry — who was, in fact, one of my own and John's favorite poets.

Cue the "Twilight Zone" music! Do-do-do-do, do-do-do-do ….

During Sunday toasts with Three Philosopher's Ale (which Ray found locally) and numerous other specialty beers, we traded hilarious and touching stories of our parents' lives, deaths and dementia; our good wives, children, and grandchildren; our hobbies and work with children; our religious upbringing (including Ray's Catholic school conversion to right-handedness), Sufism, and Celtic spirituality. It seems bizarre that we never broached such typical manly subjects as politics, sports and money — and watched no Sunday football.

Instead, we walked the beach. Ray fished while I entered turbulent waters filled with debris. John cooked a marvelous swordfish, which we shared after Randy led a prayer to the "God of a Thousand Names." He then entertained us with captivating stories about his mother — she's the one with dementia — recalling meeting Mussolini and witnessing the pope being shot at G.C. Murphy's. Together, we listened to music, watched the fire and sky and laughed long and very hard into the night.

My most synchronistic experience occurred alone on the beach the next morning, remembering the anniversary of my father-in-law's death. Most every year, we released purple balloons ("Poppie's" favorite color) inscribed with personal wishes to him. To my astonishment, I found a purple balloon in the sand, wedged between driftwood, with the word "Wish" written on it! "Twilight Zone" material, indeed!

After I recounted this event, we Men of the Path parted, heads spinning ecstatically — marveling at the depth of presence and meaning we'd discovered so quickly. Days later, Ray captured our sentiment: "The Prophet said it best …'when you part from your friend(s) you grieve not: for that which you love most in him (them) may be clearer in absence, as the mountain is clearer from the plain.'"

In hindsight, we alternately described our time as, "sacred," "magic," "mysterious" and, "serendipitous." John, recently christened Abbott of the Path, concluded, "Words could not possibly encompass this experience!"

Recently, I realized why we searched for "The Healing Game" CD. We needed retreat, affirmation and restoration as spirit-seeking, fun-loving, good-hearted men. I also understood that encounters like ours are synchronistic, spiritual and universally available. However, one has to openly engage such experiences to find the meaning and, from my perspective, divine providence within them.

I guess I'm not such a skeptic after all.

Mike McGrew is a school psychologist from Carroll County. His e-mail is mcgrewclark@hotmail.com.