Recently, I remembered an odd experience I had several years ago, the likes of which I had not had before and haven’t since. I had borrowed a book about dating from a friend. I knew, on a visceral level, that I really did not need to and probably should not read any more advice about dating. Yet a part of me still grasped at the possibility of there being another avenue I had not tried, another insight that might be held within the pages of a book, that would be my answer, that would lead to my breakthrough. I had the book on my shelf for awhile, then one night, I picked it up to read, ignoring the actual physical resistance I felt to adding yet another voice to the cacophony in my head and heart. And that’s when the strange thing happened. I looked at the page and forgot how to read. I cannot really explain it any other way. I saw the black shapes of letters on the page but I couldn’t read words. I looked for a few moments, then closed the book and never opened it again.
I am so amazed at the intelligent operations of the human mind. It said no, because I couldn’t.
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