I’m on this mind-boggling evolutionary quest.
It’s called life.
Resigned to that fact that I will probably never achieve utter perfection, I’ve found contentment in concentrating on specific facets of my life and working them to the bone in a manner which would awe even the most jaded blog reader.
Specifically, I’ve devoted myself to refining the ability to recognize my internal state and to communicate with it so deeply that every mood which enters my daily life is fully known and explicable to me.
No surprises. No vague feelings of unease. No unexplained elation.
Every little piece of crap emotion that dares to cross my mind will not do so unnannounced. I will see everything coming and no spurious stupid little bothersome emotional hiccup will ever catch me by surprise again.
I’m the owner of all my moods.
That is my goal.
This requires an exquisite and microscopic harmony with my outer world and that I note each and every fluctuation in my environment.
I’m helpless to change much of it, but that’s not the point.
The point is to know.
How my environment is shaping my daily perspective.
One of the worst emotions I can experience is the one of vague unease.
I’ve heard people say they have a feeling something bad is going to happen. Ascribed to a psychic ability, they describe the foreboding in such ominous tones that its eventual culmination seems inevitable.
I once knew a girl who would suddenly tell me she felt something really bad was going to happen.
We would sit or lay there silently and wait for it to happen. For the bad. And it never did.
On one such occasion, I actually shared her apprehension! We laid there, staring at the ceiling, it was my birthday years ago, and we both fell silent. I also felt the gloom. We were transfixed by this approaching disaster…which never came. We went out, had dinner, drinks…I turned one year older. Nothing bad happened. Well, other than getting older. But that was not a surprise.
This ability to harmonize with one’s environment and to interpret it and deduce from it is construed as psychic ability.
The ability to read minds, to describe premonitions, to talk with the dead, to read palms; it’s all nothing but hyper-acute awareness of environmental factors. We size up people the moment we meet them. And we draw conclusions. But some of us are more accurate than others. What does that say about us?
If you and I meet Fred and I say “A” and you say “B”…and “B” turns out to be the more accurate read, what does that say about you? You have a more nuanced recognition of body language and vocal expression? Your mastery of phenotype interpretations is superior to my own? Yes to all of the above? In which case you assess people better than I do. Is that something I can improve? Is it like playing the piano, do I need to practice more?
So-called women’s intuition.
What is it but an extremely refined environmental awareness?
There is nothing magical about it. It is not a special gift brought to you by the 2nd X chromosome.
It is simply a heightened dose of sensory development.
When did this concept of “women’s intuition” enter popular thought?
Because there are men who are capable of it.
Yes, I will admit, in their current incarnation, men are not that swift when it comes to perceiving environmental cues. Not at all. Men, we blunder our way through shit. Seems you can hold up a sign for most guys and they still won’t understand or even note that your message is a message.
It’s not natural. The historically natural male, prior to his pollution and neutering by the Industrial Age, was incredibly aware of his environment.
The hunter must be. The hunter who is not aware of his full environment starves. I would postulate that the male animal, equipped with the perceptions his genetic heritage offers him, would make for a marvelous “psychic” specimen. Focusing his hunting skills outwards and channeling them into his human environment and learning the art of interpretation (for it is not enough just to recognize…one must also read), a man has the ability to master spoken and unspoken modes of communication.
Seems man has lost his primal awareness. While he’s too busy concentrating on football or pornography, his environment floats by without nary a flinch of his eye.
It began wonderfully.
Slept well, at least 7 hours. That’s damned good for me. I sleep better in the cold. Strange.
Because of the cold, I was slow climbing out of bed. It was 5:15. I ate breakfast, revved up my mind, started my Day-3 workout. Squats, bench press and dead lifts.
The workout went well. I met my goals for the morning. Jumped in the shower, finished it off with a minute or two of a max cold spray…invigorating and shocking. Bus and train to work. A couple of “favorable” responses from a couple of chicks ;-) By the time I climbed out of the Hollywood and Vine Red Line station, I was feeling good. No, great.
Now at some point, the “great” began to dwindle. By the time I reached work and switched on my computer and grabbed some hot tea, I was experiencing that dreaded vague unease. The antipathy of all that I hold dear and true.
Vague fucking unease.
What the hell?
I felt great just minutes previous.
Now I was feeling a little down; angry; bitter; resentful.
That was what I felt. And I had absolutely no reason to feel all this. None.
Or did I?
Let me state clearly:
1) I do not hate my job.
2) Due to the holidays, the next couple of weeks promise low-stress workplace serenity.
3) All management is in the Bahamas or just doesn’t give a flying fuck what happens this week.
No reason at all. I spent a great part of my day juggling work demands and private introspection as I tried to connect my fragmented inner state with that elusive, MIA environmental cue. Why did I feel this?
To be oblivious to your mood is one of the worst fates.
It’s the sort of quagmire that enriches mental health “professionals” and bolsters the membership of scientological cults.
I think I’ve figured out the source of my somber cloudiness, but I won’t detail it here for the sake of privacy. Let’s just say that I anticipated an actual occurrence which happened today. Unfortunately I had no awareness of this pre-recognition. The hard facts were there, if I’d bothered to look and read. There was nothing psychic about the experience. A case of perceiving something but not knowing it. That in itself is a source of conflict.
Ah well, I have a long way to go before I reach perfection…