I have the most remarkable story of pure destiny, a serendipity like occurance. It's about meeting someone you were suppose to meet and meeting them half way across the world, in the most unlikely circumstances. It may be unknown why I was suppose to meet this person, but "necessity knows no magic formulae-they are all left to chance. If a love is to be unforgetable, fortuities must immediately start fluttering down to it like birds to Francis of Assisi's shoulders.."
I'm reading "the Unbearable Lightness of Being" by Milan Kundera and it is about this. Here is an except. It's lovely..
After Tomas had returned to Prague from Zurich, he began to feel uneasy at the thought that his acquaintance with Tereza was the result of six improbable fortuities.
But is not an event in fact more significant and noteworthy the greater the number of fortuities necessary to bring it about?
Chance and chance alone has a message for us. Everything that occurs out of necessity, everything expected, repeated day in and day out, is mute. Only chance can speak to us. We read its message much as gypsies read the images left by coffee grounds at the bottom of a cup.
Tomas appeared to Tereza in a hotel restaurant as chance in the absolute. There he sat, poring over an open book, when suddenly he raised his eyes to her, smiled, and said,
"A cognac, please."
At that moment, the radio happened to be playing music. On her way behind the counter to pour the cognac, Tereza turned the volume up. She recognized Beethoven. She had known his music from the time a string quartet from Prague had visited their town. Tereza (who, as we know, yearned for "something higher") went to the concert. The hall was nearly empty. The only other people in the audience were the local pharmacist and his wife. And although the quartet of musicians on stage faced only a trio of spectators down below, they were kind enough not to cancel the concert, and give a private performance of the last three Beethoven quartets.
Then the pharmacist invited the musicians to dinner and asked the girl in the audience to come along with them. From then on, Beethoven came to her image of the world on the other side, the world she yeared for. Rounding the corner with Tomas's cognac, she tried to read chance's message: How was it possible that at the very moment she was taking an order of cognac to a stranger she found attractive, at that very moment to hear Beethoven?
Necessity knows no magic formulae- they are all lef to chance. If a love is to be unforgettable, fortuities must immediately start fluttering down to it like birds to Francis of Assisi's shoulders.
