I am certain that the Universe itself is intelligent and creative, from the highest heavens to the lowest atoms beneath our feet. From the beautiful form of a galaxy to the little whorls of a mouse’s toe print, creative intelligence is displayed. In ancient metaphysics, the one initial intelligent force was said to have become two, then three, and then many, while still being one force overall, with all forces sharing in that intelligence.
All the ancient cultures gave names to these individualized forces. At the higher, more cosmic end, you’ve got your archangels, your gods of Olympus, your Hindu devas. Down lower, you get your Arabian djinn, or genies, your leprechauns, your Lorelei, and your kobold. Down at the bottom are your fairies.
When you get down to our level, the subsets of subsets of forces we encounter are less intelligent than cunning. The force I will discuss today is a small force, localized to your immediate vicinity. It is the force that ties a knot in the garden hose you just straightened out, that jams a spatula half upright when you go to open a kitchen drawer.
You can tell when this force is activating. You brush your teeth. Then, when you bend over the sink to spit out the toothpaste suds, and rise back up to see how white and shiny your teeth are, the medicine cabinet door is just a tinch wider open than you left it, so that you bang your head on the corner of it. Then, when the tears of pain subside a bit, you look at your smile, you see a little piece of spinach that was not there before you started brushing.
Then, your coat pocket will snag on the doorknob on your way out, and rip that pocket just a bit. You think, “I couldn’t do that on purpose if I tried a million times.” Yet, it happened. Next, your untied shoelace, which you know you double tied, will get caught between the door and the door sill, as you close the door, on your way out. This sequence of events is now beyond all likelihood of being random. A low level of cunning intelligence is implied, with the sense of humor of a clown with a pie in his hand.
Then, you release a stream of invective so loud and vile that your neighbors slam their windows shut. Then, when you squeeze your fist so tightly your door key draws blood from the palm of your hand, it will stop, for you have made a blood sacrifice. Bloody fairies were at work.
First shared on the Squatcher’s Lounge Podcast:
For the reading impaired, an audio version of this quasi theory may be found here: