Mind control. That would be cool, wouldn’t it? To be able to focus the mind to a point so sharp you could cut rock with your eyes. Or knock a puma off a tree for shits and giggles, or plant thoughts into people’s heads, like some kind of reverse mind-pick-pocketer. Or, let’s be honest, even to be powerful enough to listen to what your friend is saying rather than imagining what the lingerie demographics are in the bar you’re in. Me – I don’t have much in the way of mind control. In London, the peak of my mind mastery was buying 2 bottles of posh beer from Waitrose instead of 3, for which I usually congratulated myself with a 3rd bottle of said beer. So, hardly Professor Charles Xavier from ‘The X-men’.
Here, everyone thinks they are Professor Charles Xavier from ‘The X-men’. It’s relentless. One guy, ironically called ‘Truth’, told me with a totally straight face that he could make people turn round by staring at their backs. And that wasn’t even a good day. No, when he was really cranking up the Gandalf, he could make clouds dissolve with his brainwaves. Not now though – the energy is all wrong now. Sorry, should’ve known. I clearly have much to learn. Why isn’t there an app for that? There really should be an app for that – the ‘Psychic Energy” app, complete with downloadable forecasts – ‘And there’s a front of low psychic energy moving in from the east, so you might want to take a stick of incense out if travelling. Other than that, there’s a strong Karmic outlook for the rest of the country. Until tomorrow, Namaste.’
Another, otherwise gorgeous, sinewy Viking lady cornered me in our dormitory last night to tell me that drinking the local cacao opens a door in your mind to the ‘real’ you, and did I want to walk through it? Sensing my keen-ness to hear more (I’d turned away from her to face the wall), she went on to explain that she had had many, many past lives. She didn’t seem to hear me when I asked her how many. Guess she was busy controlling the mind of a poor indigenous kid or something. Apparently they too, are prone to sporadic bouts of mind-fuckery. A few years back, whole class-loads of the poor things started spontaneously convulsing and frothing at the mouth, before scraping themselves off the floor to copulate with each other. But that’s school for you. Intense boredom makes you do weird things. In Maths, I used to ask the teacher to turn up the heating so that the girls would take off their school sweaters. We all had fun with it, teacher included (I’m using my mind to intuit this, rather than anything real in the world that would suggest that it’s true). It’s the same kind of thing, though I feel the Guatemalan version is a little bit OTT. Not to mention selfish – just think of the clean-up.
And just today over breakfast, I was told, with a heavy heart, that my vibrations were low, or slow, or lop-sided or something. I think I was being told this because I questioned the wisdom of David Icke, a conspiracy theorist most famous for telling people he was the second coming of Christ, then backtracking when no-one bought into it. I think his mistake was saying he was the second coming of anyone. Much easier to say you’re the first coming of yourself, and much harder to dispute. Anyway, as I was being lectured once more on the power of my mind to poach eggs, I realised that for all their preaching, their cacao-based hysteria and connecting of dots that don’t really exist, I have a much stronger mind than all of them. Why? Because I can sit and soak this stuff up all day, day after day, and not laugh once. And that, my good friend, is real mind control.