Dangerous Compassions



“I saw a gecko in the bathroom two nights ago,” I told Ming.

“Was it reading?” he asked.

“No!  It was scurrying, away from me.”

“With a crystal ball?” Ming asked. Hmm, tricky tricky!

“No!  That’s not scurrying!  That’re scrying.”

“Those are different words?” Ming asked.

“Yes!” I said.  I think he was kidding.


We decided I would get a Master’s degree in insects.  I studied beetles for a minute, till I got squicked.  Wow, I love beetles.  Put me on team diversity any time.

But a big reason for me to study insects is that I can be an entomologist and an etymologist at the same time.  Wouldn’t that make life so much easier, to be both?  I could have it on my business card.  Then no one would fuck with me.

back to geckos

“Why did you ask me if the gecko was reading?” I asked Ming.

“Seems like a gecko thing to do,” he said.  “Don’t you think?”

“Maybe!” I said.  “But that would just make me more scared of stepping on one…”

“Or else drive a car.”

“Ugh,” I said.  “Or sell insurance.”

Geckos are cool creatures.  What long fingers you have.  I’m sorry a car insurance company co-opted them.


Scrying seems to me like intentional hallucinating.  A crystal ball is a good way to encourage the mind to mess around.  Then a message can arrive from beyond the veil.

Some people start hearing voices in white noise.  A fan’s hum can be turned into sounds that resemble voices.  The mind makes patterns and the sounds become words through mind-magic.

If the voices are nice, it doesn’t have to be a problem.  My voices are 95% ok.  But sometimes I’d rather have the option of being able to turn them off.


I have a good friend who can’t visualize.  In her head, she cannot see pictures.  It’s hard for me to even imagine that.  Well, my bestie’s dad is the same.  So I’ve been pondering the idea since I was a kid, because of that.  The dad is a mathematician.

But I don’t understand how people make art, if they can’t visualize.  I’m not a super-planner, but I do have some sense of what I’m about to make, usually.  I see it in my mind, then try to make something like that.

I’m an outlier of imagination in that I can smell things in my mind and taste them also.  I can read a menu and taste everything, but it takes a effort.  All the senses I think I can do.  But I’m partly face blind.

I told another friend I hear voices, and he said, “I wish I could hear voices.”  This friend is a non-visualizer too, and he also can’t hear things in his head.  Or smell or taste things.


So much I take for granted, that I can do.  I want to be grateful for the voices I hear because it’s almost like an extra sense.  I’m not going to love some things my mind can do, but not other things.  My whole mind is good with me–I love her unconditionally.

Self-love is a key part of how I handle being disabled.  I start with the premise that I am valid–my differences and needs are ok.  We go from there.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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