Differentiated from magic
Once, I threw a coin into a wishing well at Mother Shipton’s cave and wished that I would win a writing competition. A month or so later my first short story was accepted for publication.
Another time, I came back to my car in a car park to find someone had driven into it and he was kindly leaving me his details. He had exactly the same name as me. He also lived a few doors down from a house I lived in some time ago.
Either coincidences mean something or they mean nothing. If they do mean something, do they just mean something to you, or to the universe? On a wider scale, given that our whole reality is based on our perception of events from our own perspective, perhaps coincidences really are the universe speaking to us. Hiding in plain sight.
The odds of someone you meet having the same birthday as you is 1 in 365. Not particularly far-fetched, but if it happened it would make you raise an eyebrow, and you would attribute meaning to it on some level.
As humans, we’re programmed to spot patterns and create connections and tribes due to commonalities. We also wage war due to our differences.
The universe, however, in its cold indifference doesn’t give a shit.