When I was a child I thought I could change the world. It started with the desire and aspiration of solving my parents’ marital problems. I think it’s called magical thinking. I really believed that it was my fault that they didn’t see eye to eye, hence it was my responsibility to reconcile them. The fact is, I didn’t stand a chance of succeeding, I was 10, maybe even less, but a part of me hoping to change the world remained till this very day. OK, maybe it’s not about changing the world, it’s more about the feeling that things around me are in a correlation with my mind. When I think of something and it actually happens, I’m quite certain that it was my thought that caused that event. Or maybe it was my intuition? Does it sound crazy?
I came across sincere laughter at work, when I talked to a printer that just refused to give me a few pages. Few minutes later my colleague, one of the people who laughed, complained about having a horrible day, and, watch out, it was all because of the black cat that crossed her path in the morning. That, my dear friend, is also believing in magic. Friday the 13th? Yes, that too.
My fish is intelligent!
Haven’t you ever promised to a “superhuman being” that if she/he helped you with something, you’d do/ stop doing something in return? Haven’t you ever talked to your dog, cat, canary or fish, being sure that the animal understood everything,as it looked at you in such a wise way?
And when your car broke down on highway, didn’t you deem the machine was evil and vicious? When you were in a hurry and all the traffic lights on your way were red, didn’t you think the whole world was against you?
While looking for some information on magical thinking, I stumbled across an interesting website by Matthew Hutson – magicalthinkingbook.com. He states that in case of anthropomorphism, the tendency to apply human-like traits to non-human entities, we are driven by the need to predict or control our environment. We seek patterns, assuming that this pattern is another coherent mind. The world around us is alive, it reacts to our thoughts and probably even the cute, little MacBook Air I’m using now is trying to tell me something. Just kidding.
But is there a line beyond which this magical thinking turns into something hazardous for our mental health? Talking to your pet can be funny, enjoyable, innocent (and even sexy for some women), but when should we start worrying?