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Humans are just too damn soft-headed. SCARE us too much and we run for the wildest reaches we can conjure up... and search for company there... and find it!
Or, you could switch them.
They're all talking about stuff that is real... only greatly exaggerated and embellished upon wildy. They can't handle the little bursts of the "paranormal" that skid into their minutes betimes. So their little computational boxes work away at that action to try to make it fit into something that suits their alienated altruism, some higher plane of existence, some rare form of dark art, some contact with Venusian cousins, some story that makes sense out of the moments when truth has butted in on The Big Lie we know as life in this world.
I used to call it The Big Mistake. I hadn't seen all the way into it yet.
Twenty years ago, when I was living with the billionaires in Stinson Beach, I used to go to the local medical clinic for my various bodily complaints. They had, back then, the most wonderful nurse practitioner ever born. The good old days. She was better than any doctor I have ever encountered... with the possible exception of the extra-terrestrial surgeon god who bolted my head back on some years ago. Yes, yes, he aggravated the living daylights out of my already angry thyroid, but, hey, I'd be in a wheelchair right now if it had not been for him. So, well, anyway, where was I?
The bodhisattva nurse practitioner. Right. We were great friends. We had lots of opportunities to talk about all kinds of great stuff. She wondered aloud once why some people do things like wear foil hats to combat evil transmissions, that sort of thing, the odd sub-groups of mental illness. I told her I thought people couldn't handle psychic phenomena that don't square with "normal", that when they can't just completely forget it their minds start scouring this sector of the galaxy for things to explain it... that if that's still kooky there needs to be some sort of society of people similarly afflicted, or similarly blessed. Contrary to what most people think, humans don't like to be different. It's only okay to be different if you have some identically-different people with whom to navigate this vale of tears. So, if, say, you suddenly start hearing others' thoughts, you might start thinking they are broadcasting bad stuff into your head, that you need protection, that some foil will bounce those transmissions off your head.
You could always just go, "Hey, wow, I just heard that guy's thoughts," and carry on, or start researching about this faculty, but, no, usually that is NOT going to be the way it shakes out. Usually, the hearer will go into instant and impenetrable denial. If that doesn't work, that's when stories need to start being built up around it. Similarly, when one has hits of clairvoyance, moments when the true mind bursts through the stupid little squawk box to say something real, this gets turned into a telepathic message from Pluto. Or, obviously, if you have had a dark or unbearable childhood, it will get turned into the product of the faculty tortured into you by Evil Itself... a special power for the powerless.
I'm not saying there are not messages of encouragement being put into our mindscapes, and I'm not saying that awful things have not been done to people to turn them into killers. I'm saying that people cannot own the real power of true mind. I'm saying that people can't deal with what connection with it comes naturally. And, I guess, I need to include that lately, terrifying as life in The Big Lie has become, people need to congregate in these fantasies. So some people make a living on it.
It always comes to people making a living on the agonies of hypnotized slave herd animals... and they almost always can find righteous-sounding excuses for it. Doesn't ANYONE see how lethal money is?
The existence of money AT ALL, the need to pay to be alive, is eating everything that lives.
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