The Plight of Supersensory

Some time ago, I watched a video of a famous ‘magician’ furiously lambasting a supposed ‘psycic’, demanding proof he could read his mind. I thought, for such a powerful person – the magician, someone who’s gained some level of mana via slight of hand, amassed some quantity of energy via mass appeal- the man had no clue what he was doing with it.

I wonder, where does the magic lie in recognizing changes in the energy fields. Could I teach you to pay attention? For instance, if one made the assumption as I began to, that people are picking up on my mental voice, the silent but substantial thoughts emboldened by cognizance, would they then perhaps perceive the interactions, as I do, the changes in behavior, the answering of questions never spoken? I suppose one might have to first observe themselves. I think that may be the key.

There is a moment, a summit, where doubt disappears. Where the psychiatric cost is unburdened. For me it opened a separate and substantial set of curiosities. My memories, suddenly riddled with new architecture, a fog lifted on moments long past. Did I perceive the fog at the time? Now I have to trace a log of haze across time.

But what about the crashing minds I see around me, the truly inundated, utterly incapacitated by voices, given pills, told it’s all false, imprisoned by haste. No one ever considered an alternative? Some of those voices could be coming from elsewhere? Maybe the technology is changing a field? Who would even dare ask a question they can hardly begin to answer? Someone overwhelmed becomes a burden, and that burden is like a whirlpool, never ceasing, constant turmoil.

The layers of energy, and my perception of them, and the nights I toil looking to the starry skies, and the moments I just play the NPC, and the moments I pay the price and sulk despite feeling the anchor and chain of a thumb on the scale, of the mechanism too broad for any individual to excavate; it would take teams and dedication and serious challenges to the status quo to find even the smallest thread to pull. We know so little, and our science! Every paper I’ve read, no matter how richly decorated the publication, has been littered with holes in efficacy. It’s hard to believe much of anything we hold true beyond the self evident.

***

I am a child, a voice is in my head, I don’t know where its coming from, I assume it’s a figment of my imagination.

I am myself, here and now. I hear a voice in my head, I’ve developed technique to code its source, I don’t assume anything, least of which that I am special or unique.

And you, like I was some short time ago, can’t regard any of this as anything more than a claim to read minds, which it is not, laugh at my preposterous musings. Meanwhile, I extend beyond the overt, and attempt to perceive the feelings that overcome me. Can I associate those, can I associate the moments I stub my toe, can I find these things in my surroundings.

I am beginning to.

You think I’m crazy, I laugh to myself, wishing you could laugh with me instead of at me.

I have had so many moments pass in this haze, where I have found the other end of the string, I don’t doubt, I just try to enjoy the pursuit of a sharper understanding. You may not join me where I am going, but I wonder whether you can find yourself where I am, staring out at an ocean of unperceived connection.