¡AMurica!

Movies seem to tell us that any form of connectedness seems possible when “all you need is love.” But somehow this kind of idealism doesn’t seem to exist in reality, like love at first sight.

Differences in culture create rifts between people. It’s harder to approach someone of another cultural context because he uses a completely different syntax of communication than that of your own culture, which confounds your reaction. I suppose this is why people of similar cultures tend to stick together – it takes less effort to communicate, when communication takes place not only on the literal level but also in the subtext. Common experiences and culture form the basis of understanding, where words do not simply “mean” but also carry intuitive meanings. The comfort lies in the similarity of perception as it is easier to empathize and be empathized with. There is a smaller risk of misunderstanding, which can often give rise to a sense of alienation and loneliness.

I guess in such a diverse community, we are always searching for a sense of synchronicity, as Dictionary.com defines it – the simultaneous occurrence of causally unrelated events and the belief that the simultaneity has meaning beyond mere coincidence.

There are different types of synchronicity. The poignant collision of metaphor and meaning gives rise to synchronicity. For instance, Ye Si parallels fusion cuisine to postcolonial culture. In Wong Kar Wai’s Chungking Mansion, packaged food symbolizes a pessimistic view of romantic relationships, as every package has a due date.

There is a term for that in Daoist/Chinese culture that refers specifically to synchronicity between people – yuanfen. In this context, it is an energy that brings about unlikely but meaningful encounters. To be more specific, I guess it is the feeling that you get when you meet someone with whom you feel an inexplicable sense of connection. There is a saying, in China even, that it takes a hundred years for one to accumulate enough yuanfen for you to share the same boat with a person and a thousand years to share the same pillow with one. Differences therefore imbue encounters with much more significance.

I think there is a deep sense of synchronicity in Middlebury, as it brings together a weird combination of people of different interests and backgrounds. Middlebury is an even share of idealism and the commonplace – we have great academics and a somewhat intellectual atmosphere; but also students who become investment bankers, towering football players and partygoers. And unlike big universities, we cross paths everyday.

The sense of synchronicity is especially profound with international students at Middlebury. It is odd that we converge at Middlebury, as it is remote and unknown in the U.S. itself, not to mention internationally. From what I know, it is not prestige that attracts applications, but rather convenience (no essay required) and generous aid from UWCs (United World College). I think people come because they are chosen rather than because of a certain distinct reputation that draws them to the school; the randomness of this whole process generates interesting encounters.

The coalescence of different identities seems to cumulate a neutral and indefinable character, like our gray skies and buildings. There is a certain sense of opacity and absence of character that represses the urge to look for excitement, and yet it is the coldness that renders unexpected encounters even more out of the blue and coincidental. At Middlebury, we can see our drastic differences as factors that separate us, but also as a possibility for synchronicity – poetic coincidences – to take place.