Hidden Purpose

Eric did not know that his ability to control the thoughts of others was unusual. He just thought it exciting that so many others agreed with his view of things. If he cheered for the Giants at a ball game, so did everyone else. If he decided on a hamburger with mustard only for lunch every one else decided that was a good choice too. No problem!

He became suspicious, though, when in the seventh grade he concentrated very hard on a math problem and till got it wrong, only to discover that everyone else in class had the same wrong answer. Similar events caused him to experiment a bit. When a list of possible books to be read over the summer was passed out he selected three and repeated them over and over in his mind. Come September twenty one of the twenty three students in his class chose the same books. He checked on the two exceptions. They had been absent that day! The problem was that he couldn’t read anyone else’s mind – not a clue. All of the other kids seemed to be pretty good at guessing what another kid or teacher thought or considered important. He was lonely!

It is difficult to keep friends when they all agree with you on everything. Then they tell other friends that you are cold and distant because they can’t figure you out. When he started thinking about girls it really became a problem. If all of the guys like the same girl you do … sigh! So, he consciously tried to like all girls, but then none of them liked him. He began to learn to shield his thoughts. He still didn’t have many friends but enjoyed the casual chatter all around him. At first he thought the other kids just didn’t care whether he was around or not. Later he realized that he was invisible to them – a type of sensatory blindness. It seems that every human is somewhat adept at reading minds – of picking up clues and impressions of those around them. They rely on this “intuition” in normal communication. Since his mind was less than blank to them he was functionally not there. Remember that video on the gorilla in the midst of ball players. Same thing – just all the time.

He could make his presence known, of course, by speaking or deliberately getting into someone’s space; but his actions made no long-term impact. Is it worst to be invisible or to be never remembered at all? How do you make a mark in the world if your mental pen has no ink or if you “write large” everyone else has the same identical idea? He had to accept that having a unique paranormal ability was not something to be desired.

Then Eric discovered magic – you know, apparently doing impossible things with coins and balls and playing cards. He laughed inside at how other magicians practiced difficult sleights and forms of misdirection. They pretended to make a coin jump from one hand to the other. All he had to do was concentrate on the idea that the coin had jumped over and that is what everyone saw – or at least what they said they saw. If he said, “There are now two balls under the cup,” that is what occurred – in the minds of the audience. In a strange way he could actually do magic, but only by pretending that he was pretending. Since everyone knew it was just for fun he created no fear. Since his character was assumed to be just acting he was visible again. He was potentially the best performing magician that ever lived! He could perform effects not even imagined by other performers. Naturally, since he couldn’t teach or sell or reveal what he actually did so he was back to having no friends. He hated himself.

You have never heard of him. He eventually sent out a message for everyone to forget that he had ever existed. I’m not sure of what ever happened to him. Pretty sad, though, since if he had ever just liked who he was everyone else would have liked him too. Maybe he did learn that and found some peace in being invisible. I like to think that when I perform and flub a trick and the audience still loves it – it is because Eric is in the audience lending his support. His desire to see me succeed effects everyone else. Magic happens in real life because people like Eric use their special skill to make everyone pretend they like things they don’t. Does pretending that you are not pretending to pretend give meaning to the impossible when actually doing things has little meaning at all.

You may wonder how I know of Eric at all.

Well, I can read minds and have learned not to let anyone know. Maybe now you can understand why.

Nice writing style, and the skeleton of what could be turned into a nice story.

But I'm guessing that you don't want it to be a story. Am I right in saying that you want your readers to draw a connection, perhaps a direct comparison, between you and Eric? I think I'm a little confused by what it is you want to reveal to me here. Are you saying that you can read minds, but that telling people you can leads to grief, and so you hide this ability under the guise of mentalism/ magic?

I don't think he speaks of himself. He has many little stories like this and they're always a joy to read.

Ah ... sorry, I must've totally got the wrong end of the stick.

Thanks guys -- you are both correct. Mostly I post little stories to stimulate thought on alternative approaches to viewing the importance or affect of our art. Like a magic performances, mostly it is for fun, but may have deeper implications as well.

But, everything is based, in part, on personal experience or observation. In real life we all maintain some fictional representation of what we actually think and feel: white lies to protect others, embellished truths to gain attention or emphasis a point, etc. Everyone also has some experience with telepathy or the fantasy of it. When they observe a performer pretending to read minds they consider it a trick or "possibly real" based on this experience. In balance, many Mentalists would like to leave a hint of "might be real."

Now, what if some in the audience can actually read minds or perform some sort of mind control? How will they gauge your performance? What if they have learned to hide or mask their skill for any number of reasons? The fact that you openly display your skill will mean they know you are faking it.

Can I "read minds?" Of course -- and so can you, that be relative to definition and setting. Can I cause people to follow a course of action without a direct command. Yes, and so can you. Jobs like job recruiting or meeting facilitation requires a heightened degree of both types of "empathic" skills, e.g. knowing when someone is lying I have learned that it best to "play dumb" and mask these skills in order to avoid causing fear. After all, an employer may love that you can read the minds of potential employees but would dread the idea that you can read his thoughts.

There are numerous science fiction stories about someone with telepathic abilities hired by the government or industry to ferret out spies, aliens or thieves. In our culture this would never happen -- you would be assassinated in a second. The last thing any any government official wants known is the truth about how they make decisions and what got them into office. An opinion, of course.

Now, if I came out in a post and made the claim that:

"Most Mentalists do not consider the affect of what they do," or "if you could read minds you would hide the fact," etc. I might be attacked form many directions.

So, I tell a story and allow each reader to extract what they will. In real life I have used magic effects (Mentis and Magus) tens of thousands of times as an allegorical tool to challenge a person's perceptions of the impossible. I also tell stories as a way of presenting an idea without direct confrontation. Life is about making choices. I would rather offer alternative choices than engage in argument.

What draws you to perform magic rather than just observe it? How does this activity make you a better person or better prepare you for tomorrow's challenges? You pretend at doing magic -- what else do you pretend at?