Blog Dis
Pay close attention
2025-03-13
We do not see the world through the eyes of those around us. We see the world only through our own eyes, and sometimes or more often than not, our eyes are closed to the obvious, too oblivious, to preoccupied.
I regard myself as an observant individual, someone who pays close attention to the details around me, and especially to the hidden messages that are not being telegraphed purposely by someone verbally. But in reality, I'm often afflicted with that worldly disease called: Head Up My A**. I just don't see everything. I wish I could. I wish I'd have paid closer attention to all the details. The other day I was speaking to a colleague about my literary influences as a young child and how and why I came to read some books and why not others. I told my colleague that I went through my phases, like any young woman who loves to read the classics (or young man) — Jane Austen, then Fyodor Dostoyevsky, William Faulkner, Charles Dickens, Mary Shelley, D.H. Lawrence, George Orwell, Charlotte Bronte, until I graduated to lighter fare as I became busier with being a young professional, maybe a little more open-minded, branching out into romantic historical novels by Leon Uris, and eventually into thrillers by Jeffrey Archer, Ken Follett, Thomas Harris and Caleb Carr. Do you think I could tell you who or what had inspired me to read the works of these writers? I wish I could. I wish I would've paid closer attention to the details.
A clairvoyant once told me, "You're a natural intuitive," to which I followed up with a simple question, "Can you define intuitive?" She answered, "Oh yes of course... when you're intuitive it means that you see what you're not looking for and you hear what you're not listening for..." I'm not a young impressionable woman any more, haven't been for decades. I've arrived at an understanding to accept that there is a difference between intuition and instinct. So I'll give this a go, and you can tell me if I'm completely off-base. Intuition is perceiving that which isn't being readily presented to you vs instinct which is perceiving a danger that isn't obvious or is being purposely hidden from you, and it is the very reason why you may get a sudden and distinct gut-feeling or warmth in your solar plexus. Your body and instinct is telling you to pay attention!
The moments of greatest impact in our lives often go unnoticed until time has passed and we reflect on who we were at that time vs who we've become. I can only recall that in my early teens, at the stupid tender age of 16 yrs, I was besotted with the creative talent and art of Picasso, whom I've discussed before in these blogs. Perhaps there was a gravitational pull at work at the time to bring me to a specific event or person. I can't be certain. I'm of the opinion, when it comes to books - something that is physical, which can be felt and seen, that books find you and not the other way around. Many Irish believe this as well. The reason why these books find you is that they are a reflection of your personality and serve the basic drive to explore and expand. Certain books come to you to broaden the scope of your limited mind because you cannot conceivably choose the right path to follow each time you need to grow as an individual.
The advice I would impart to a young adult is to pay close attention to the details and burn the incident in your memory. You'll be glad you remembered why a particular book or movie made an impact on you. I do remember, vividly, why I began to read Walt Whitman; because of an obscure movie called Beautiful Dreamers (made in Canada starring Colm Feore and Rip Torn) that pulled me to Whitman's stunningly natural poetry. I also ventured into the poetry of Pablo Neruda because of another obscure movie called American Roulette starring Andy Garcia. But the books I grew to love, however, were not read by my family, not by my parents or my siblings. For some reason or other, my psyche wanted these books to teach me something and they came to be part of my life, and they continue to be part of my life, to this day.
If memory fails as we age, then I'd ask at the Gates of Heaven for one thing: to be given a recording of all the thoughts and great moments in my life that passed me by because I wasn't paying close attention to the details. But then Saint Peter, will probably look at me, squint his eyes, shake his head and whisper, "I'm going to keep a close eye on you, Patricia K. McCarthy." I shall laugh at this irony, and thank him for paying attention to the details of my life, and my character, that clearly I didn't care to remember at the time or was simply too incapable of remembering because of there being too many details to begin with, so I'm sure Saint Peter would get a good laugh out of that one.
Look at it this way, if someone warns you, "I'm keeping an eye on you," what they're actually saying, without saying it, is that they expect you to get up to no good and in my books, this is the highest of compliments.
I regard myself as an observant individual, someone who pays close attention to the details around me, and especially to the hidden messages that are not being telegraphed purposely by someone verbally. But in reality, I'm often afflicted with that worldly disease called: Head Up My A**. I just don't see everything. I wish I could. I wish I'd have paid closer attention to all the details. The other day I was speaking to a colleague about my literary influences as a young child and how and why I came to read some books and why not others. I told my colleague that I went through my phases, like any young woman who loves to read the classics (or young man) — Jane Austen, then Fyodor Dostoyevsky, William Faulkner, Charles Dickens, Mary Shelley, D.H. Lawrence, George Orwell, Charlotte Bronte, until I graduated to lighter fare as I became busier with being a young professional, maybe a little more open-minded, branching out into romantic historical novels by Leon Uris, and eventually into thrillers by Jeffrey Archer, Ken Follett, Thomas Harris and Caleb Carr. Do you think I could tell you who or what had inspired me to read the works of these writers? I wish I could. I wish I would've paid closer attention to the details.
A clairvoyant once told me, "You're a natural intuitive," to which I followed up with a simple question, "Can you define intuitive?" She answered, "Oh yes of course... when you're intuitive it means that you see what you're not looking for and you hear what you're not listening for..." I'm not a young impressionable woman any more, haven't been for decades. I've arrived at an understanding to accept that there is a difference between intuition and instinct. So I'll give this a go, and you can tell me if I'm completely off-base. Intuition is perceiving that which isn't being readily presented to you vs instinct which is perceiving a danger that isn't obvious or is being purposely hidden from you, and it is the very reason why you may get a sudden and distinct gut-feeling or warmth in your solar plexus. Your body and instinct is telling you to pay attention!
The moments of greatest impact in our lives often go unnoticed until time has passed and we reflect on who we were at that time vs who we've become. I can only recall that in my early teens, at the stupid tender age of 16 yrs, I was besotted with the creative talent and art of Picasso, whom I've discussed before in these blogs. Perhaps there was a gravitational pull at work at the time to bring me to a specific event or person. I can't be certain. I'm of the opinion, when it comes to books - something that is physical, which can be felt and seen, that books find you and not the other way around. Many Irish believe this as well. The reason why these books find you is that they are a reflection of your personality and serve the basic drive to explore and expand. Certain books come to you to broaden the scope of your limited mind because you cannot conceivably choose the right path to follow each time you need to grow as an individual.
The advice I would impart to a young adult is to pay close attention to the details and burn the incident in your memory. You'll be glad you remembered why a particular book or movie made an impact on you. I do remember, vividly, why I began to read Walt Whitman; because of an obscure movie called Beautiful Dreamers (made in Canada starring Colm Feore and Rip Torn) that pulled me to Whitman's stunningly natural poetry. I also ventured into the poetry of Pablo Neruda because of another obscure movie called American Roulette starring Andy Garcia. But the books I grew to love, however, were not read by my family, not by my parents or my siblings. For some reason or other, my psyche wanted these books to teach me something and they came to be part of my life, and they continue to be part of my life, to this day.
If memory fails as we age, then I'd ask at the Gates of Heaven for one thing: to be given a recording of all the thoughts and great moments in my life that passed me by because I wasn't paying close attention to the details. But then Saint Peter, will probably look at me, squint his eyes, shake his head and whisper, "I'm going to keep a close eye on you, Patricia K. McCarthy." I shall laugh at this irony, and thank him for paying attention to the details of my life, and my character, that clearly I didn't care to remember at the time or was simply too incapable of remembering because of there being too many details to begin with, so I'm sure Saint Peter would get a good laugh out of that one.
Look at it this way, if someone warns you, "I'm keeping an eye on you," what they're actually saying, without saying it, is that they expect you to get up to no good and in my books, this is the highest of compliments.
