One of the strongest things to come out of the little survey (42 of them! :) was that 27 of you are really interested about how things occur around the psychic stuff. So, I'm going to post more about it, what it's like to have psychic ability throughout a day.
Yesterday I went over to see the Cubicleland bosses. I went because the big boss has been trying for the six months or so to get me to apply for different promotions within the Cubicleland system. Last week, I finally agreed. And since one of the interviews is today I stopped by yesterday to pick up some extra paperwork and to pick up some pointers, too.
Both of my bosses are hardcore. Ex-marines who've been in Cubicleland for many decades. I may not agree with many of their bossman practices, but they are good guys, and really great guys to have in your corner. Someone in Hiveworld had been giving my Hilarious Coworker and I grief about a workflow issue he wasn't taking care of, and we mentioned it to our bosses, and now that person acts like he loves us with the beams of a million suns. But other than the pared down basics, I don't know either of the bosses, and they don't know me at all, especially since I've been outstationed in Hiveworld for the past year.
Here's what happened: I was sitting in one of their offices, and he was telling me about different questions that might come up during the interview, the sorts of things that most Cubicleland managers were looking for, etc. And then as he continued talking, I heard nothing but this ping of information: his cancer is back. Then a click, and I began seeing in stark angles the skin under his eyes, the shading of the whites, like my vision has been taken over by a program and I'm just following along and reading the data being held up in front of me in gigantic magnification, but even this is all as more of a background to the realizations, the pinging in a half dozen sounds as the data unfolds.
And for a second I realize that he's talking to me, and I'm supposed to be listening to what he's saying, but the stronger attention is on his face, as different bits of data are rolling through my mind: systemic. but in the background. the cancer surgery at the most intense site but already by that time it'd moved into the body, moving system by system. does he know? should i tell him? how would i tell him?
But I got no indication to say anything. So I bent my mind back to his words, listened as closely as I could, then got up to leave. But as I walked out the door I turned.
So how are you feeling? I asked.
Good, he said. Really good.
Really? I asked.
Yes, he said. Then told me about all sorts of clear margins and no recurrence at the one year mark, etc. etc. how it was all very good news.
I listened, got that he was in a good place with it all, but that somewhere underneath he could feel it, a sense of fatigue.
I haven't told many people, I said, but I had cancer surgery back in November. They caught it early, and it turned out to not be a huge deal. But it changed things. Do you know what I mean?
He nodded, and we talked about it for a minute. Then I left.
But as I was going to bed last night I remembered.
This is one of the hardest things about psychic energy, this knowing of things with no indication to speak it. Because if I would have felt that push of speak I would have. No matter who it was, no matter where we were. But I didn't. So I didn't. Instead I stood there and held it, maybe held it for him, maybe for Life, who knows?
But even my little question before I walked out the door, my bringing up my own cancer issue, attempting to open the door to talk to him about what I saw felt like a wrongness, and I felt a little sick in response to that as I drove back to Hiveworld, a kind of energetic kickback for crossing the line into where it was clearly stated that it was none of my business.
Once denial of the presence of psychic energy has been torn away, the ear doesn't choose what it hears . . .it just listens . . . but it doesn't judge it either . . . not my call . . . never my call at all . . .