Lucid Dreams and Saturn Skies The Life and Writing of Andrew Kincaid

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An Update, and Story Time!

Since this is the time of the week where I keep you up to date on my latest doings, here’s a small update. I’ve got about a week left as a substitute before the year is over. It’s been an interesting year, to say the least, and a good experience over all. I don’t know yet if I’ll do it again next year; I’m hoping that I don’t have to, that I can find something a bit more reliable by the time August roles around. On a related note, I’ve sent out a flurry of applications/resumes to other jobs, some full time, some not. Even if I can find a steady part time job, that will be something! My best bet is a local district looking for a science teacher. It’d be a bit of a drive, but if I get it I could consider moving closer. I’d like to find something part time in the mean time, and I’m looking at a job in a local library. I’d be content with just the library job honestly at this point; anything to get a steady bit of income, even if it isn’t all that much.

On a more personal note, I’ve been feeling a bit better about things of late. It’s like a lot of the things I’ve concerned myself with are dropping away. It helps that lately I’ve been in a more Zen state of line. I recently decided to stop calling myself “Buddhist”, which I did funnily enough for very Buddhist reasons. After all, we should not cling too tightly to forms, or in this case labels. Still, Eastern Philosophy has a strong influence on my life and outlook. Lately I’ve been thinking about looking more into Zen practice. Before that I mostly focused on Tibetan and Theravada Buddhism, with a little smattering of Zen and Tao for good measure. Now I tend to look more inward, using the philosophies and discourses more as sign posts than destinations. My biggest focus has been to try and meditate more often. I’ve also started to record my dreams, in an effort to ease back into the practice of lucid dreaming (of course when I could do it, I didn’t really practice; it just kind of happened.)

At the very least, dreaming is good fodder for stories. As I mentioned last week, I’ve refocused myself in terms of my writing, deciding to put my effort into one genre, that genre being horror. And boy has it paid off so far. In about the course of a week or so I conceived and outlined a novel, and I’ve written 5255 words on the rough draft, and I’m only two days in. I’m shooting for between 50 or 60,000 words total. Once that draft is done, I’ll start work on the novelization of “Benton’s Station”, a Lovecraftian novella I wrote for the anthology On Dark Paths (which is no longer available) a couple years ago. Someone told me awhile back I could expand it into a novel, and now I’m starting to see how that could be done. I have ideas for about ten different horror stories, some of which are simply adapting extant works into a longer format while others are completely original.

As for the writing, I’ve come to some conclusions about that as well. I am a writer; that is no lie. However, for me the emphasis is not on money. Sure, I’d like to make a business doing this. If I could just write six hours a day and sell my books for a living, I’d be perfectly happy. And it is feasible, because if I stay in the area I live in now, I wouldn’t have to pull down six figures to make a living. I couldn’t even conceive of making that much money, honestly. I’m a simple man, so I don’t need a ton of money to be happy. And that is my main goal; to be happy. I want to write my stories, and hopefully someone reads them and likes them. Sure, I’m going to market them and I hope I could make enough to live of off, but if I don’t I won’t consider myself a failure. Even if no one read them and all I did was write for my own satisfaction, I could be happy doing that.

But enough about that. Time for the ‘story time’ part of this post. I came across a couple of Zen stories I really enjoy, so though I’d share them with you guys. Enjoy!

***

“One day a young Buddhist on his journey home came to the banks of a wide river. Staring hopelessly at the great obstacle in front of him, he pondered for hours on just how to cross such a wide barrier. Just as he was about to give up his pursuit to continue his journey he saw a great teacher on the other side of the river. The young Buddhist yells over to the teacher, “Oh wise one, can you tell me how to get to the other side of this river”?

The teacher ponders for a moment looks up and down the river and yells back, “My son, you are on the other side”.”

***

There is a story in zen circles about a man and a horse. The horse is galloping quickly, and it appears that the man on the horse is going somewhere important.

Another man, standing alongside the road, shouts, “Where are you going?” and the first man replies, “I don’t know! Ask the horse!”

***

 

Sometimes You Just Gotta Cut Back…

Lately I’ve been…discontent. it has been tough go put my finger on exactly why because it seems to be everything at once. I’ve already rambled a bit on this topic not long ago so I won’t go into much more detail here for fear of sounding whiny again (we all need to vent now and then but making it a habit isn’t a good idea!)

Recently though I did figure out one thing I can do fo help myself. My writing has been simultaneously a source of great joy and frustration for me. Lately I was having difficulty working on my projects. They just could not hold my interest, and the writing was flat and uninspired. Once I sat down and looked at what I was doing, and realized my writing lacked focus. There are a lot of people who say a writer should have one genre associated with their name. Stephen King does horror. Terry Brooks does fantasy. That’s where they stakes their claims and made there names.

But me? I wanted go write epic fantasy. And horror novels. And novellas. And nonfiction books. My mind was constantly running down different rabbit holes, switching from one thing to another. Is it any surprise that I wound up exhausted and frustrated?

So I decided to go back to my roots as it were. Meaning, I returned to some short stories I wrote for my old horror anthology, intending to rewrite them from the ground up. Something odd happened; the short stories ballooned into full blown novel ideas, but more importantly I was enjoying myself again!

It hit me that focusing my efforts into one area would be my best bet both in terms of my personal enjoyment and from a business perspective when the time comes. There is such a thing of having too many choices. Sometimes a person has to limit themselves. Paradoxically there’s a freedom in limitation, because rather than being at the whim of fancy the person who decides to limit themselves can focus all there energy on the one thing they enjoy.

Long story short, I’m a horror author. Nothing else. The choice to pursue this genre, which chose me more than I chose it, involved foregoing my childhood dream of becoming a big fantasy author. But that’s okay. I tried it, and found while some of the ideas were sound there was a lot about writing straight fantasy that just doesn’t work for me. And that’s all right. Sometimes you have to admit something isn’t working for you, even if it’s something you’ve clung to for a long time. There’s no shame in it; the only shame is in not being honest with yourself and doing something that doesn’t work for you. Life’s too short to waste time chasing after something like that; sometimes you have to figure out what really matters and cut back everything else.

Well, That Wasn’t a Pleasant Way to Wake Up…

Woke up this morning with my heart pounding, feeling like my skin was too thin and like I was about to jump right out of it. Now and then that kind of thing happens when I’ve been sick (some combination of a lack of sleep, meds, and just general suckitude) but this morning was different.

I’ve mentioned before that I have anxiety problems, and that is definitely part of the issue. Things have been pretty stressful lately, what with illness in the family, being sick myself, and looming unemployment. I tend to be of a fairly morose mindset anyway, and my tendency to overthink things is not helping my situation any. Right now I feel…trapped. That is about the only way to describe it. Like I have few options, none of them good.

From what I understand, this isn’t an uncommon feeling in people of my age group. I don’t know if it is more limited to men, but I doubt it. I guess it’s being called a “quarter-life crisis”, which amuses me so I’ll use that term to describe it. Of course, it seems that many are saying they feel overwhelmed with TOO many options, while my feeling is more that I don’t have ANY. It’s a combination of frustration, apathy, anxiety, and helplessness. Point being, it sucks.

I do feel better now, after taking some time to calm myself down. I’ve been putting in applications and resumes everywhere I can think of, and that is really all I can do. I don’t know that I want to do education anymore, what with my experience as a sub and the deplorable condition of US schools, and the lack of anything resembling respect for the profession. Really I’m looking into anything right now. I’d like to write for a living, but it will take time to build that up. So, right now, I have to just muddle through as best I can. Nothing else to do.

Sorry for the rant — I generally don’t do that kind of thing, but I had nothing planned for today and that was what was on my mind anyway. Thursday I’ll have some of my regularly scheduled weirdness for you guys!

Writing is a Business, and Other Harsh Truths

After falling into and subsequently climbing out of another bout of depression, some things about this crazy profession called “writing” occurred to me. After all, there are a lot of myths out there about us writers. That, say, we’re famous, or untouchable savants sitting on top of a tower of genius, or that one book separates the average writer from fortune and fame. Those and many more. The thing is that, while there is some truth to all of those things — we’ve all heard of Stephen King and J.K. Rowling and Stephanie Meyers, all three of whom are filthy rich, famous, and the first is widely considered a genius in his field — most of us writers are folks like me. That is to say, we’re bumbling along, struggling to write around day jobs (or struggling to find a day job), hoping some day to catch that big break that allows us to sit in our luxurious manner house all day, pounding out the next Great American Novel.

…yeah, about all that. Not gonna happen.

Don’t get me wrong, you CAN find success in this business. This isn’t some bitter polemic, and I’m far from an expert. Shoot, I don’t even have a book published at the moment; the two I did have up, I took down due to quality concerns (but more on that later). So, like anything else, take what is useful out of this mess and leave the rest. Without further ado, here are some harsh truths about writing I’ve learned both through personal experience and by watching others who are way, way more successful at this than I am.

1) Writing is a Business

It’s right in the title, so you knew this one was coming. Yes, writing is art and fun and wonderful, but if you want to “make it” as an author, you have to also look at it as a business. I don’t really believe in writing for the market, because fiction is notoriously hard to market, and what you write now could be out of vogue when it comes time to publish. You should write what you enjoy. If you like sparkly vampires involved in hackneyed, possibly abusive romances with underage girls, write stuff like that. I like fantasy and horror, so I write that. Be that as it may, this is still a business. You still have to do marketing, accounting, and all that good stuff. If you go through a traditional publisher, you’ll have some support, but if you choose to self pub, you’ll have to take care of all that on your own. Writing is not the glamorous, romantic profession people think it is; it’s as muddy and messy as any other, and there is a lot of drudgery involved.

2) Speaking of Traditional vs Self Publishing….

Lots of digital ink has been spilled on Traditional v. Self Publishing. The truth is that both have their pros and cons, and neither one is a guarantee of fame and fortune. The rule of thumb is that with traditional publishing you get more support from a publisher in terms of marketing, sales, editing, and all that good stuff, but get a smaller share of royalties. Self Pub nets you higher royalties, but you are in charge of everything from cover design to wrangling an editor to tracking sales and, of course, the dreaded marketing. The fact is that the bulk of authors, no matter what  method they pick, don’t make enough to quit their day job. Most traditionally published books don’t earn out their advances, and most self published books only net a few hundred sales, if that.

3) Oh, and No Matter Which You Pick, It’s Going to Take Forever

“Forever” being a relative term. I mean, it isn’t going to take until the end of the universe to get a book completed. When you’re as impatient as I am, it might FEEL that way, but trust me, that’s just your monkey brain babbling. Try to ignore it. The sad fact is that it takes a really long time to produce a high quality novel. You might, if you work really hard and learn the craft, or happen to hit on a good idea, produce something really good your first try. And that’s great if you do that. But it doesn’t end with draft one. There’s revisions to be done. You have to polish book up until it’s so shiny it makes your eyes bleed. That takes a lot of time — a friend of mine said it takes about 14 months, on average, to produce a novel from start to finish. Then there is one of two paths you can take. You can farm it out to an agent, and then IF you find one, they’ll try to sell it to a publisher. Most likely it will end up in the slush pile with all the other hopefuls, but just maybe you will get a deal and be published. However, this could take several years time; the publishing industry works on its own schedule, not yours.

If you chose self publishing, the process is a lot faster. The accessibility of self pub is both its strength and its Achilles Heel. Remember when you had your masterpiece all super shiny in the above paragraph? Well, good as it might look to you, there are mistakes in there. The little buggers multiply like rabbits, I swear. Anyway, the point is you need another set of eyes, preferably more than one, to look over it and fix your boo boos. There are a lot of different ways you can go about doing this; if you’re on a limited budget and can’t afford the equivalent of buying a used car (the going cost of many freelance editing services), you’re going to have to get creative. You could pester a friend with an English degree into submission, or offer them Ramen money in exchange for editorial services. Whatever. The point is, that once you reach this point, you’re involving other people, and you  have to work with their timetables, not yours. And it is going to take time. A lot of it. The best thing to do is focus on your next project, and write, write, write! You can control what you do, not what other people do. So focus on what you can do today to move yourself forward toward your goals.

4) So You’ve Put in All That Time and Effort…Now For the Big Pay Off!

…whoa now. Hold on a second. Remember how I said that there is no guarantee that self pub or trad pub are going to net you fame and fortune on par with the Rowlings or Kings of this world? Yeah. You can do EVERYTHING right, and still tank miserably. You could have a great book, a sound marketing strategy, and a great support team, but the fact is that not everything is going to sell. The first book you publish isn’t likely to make a killing. Most writers who are successful, especially in self pub, have a pretty huge back list. It takes a lot of time to build that up, and even that is still not a guarantee. There ARE no guarantees. Sure, working hard can go a long way toward making you successful, but the universe isn’t going to crap out a golden goose just because you did everything “right”. Go tell some poor farmer in sub-Saharan Africa that if she works hard and pays her dues, she’ll make it some day. Or perhaps tell that to some kid working in a sweat shop over in China. The fact is, for centuries people have performed back breaking labor for a pittance, and never gotten anywhere for it. You aren’t any different.

5) Now That I’ve Completely Crushed Your Spirits…

…I know, that last one was harsh. Want a hug? *squeeze*…okay, now that that’s done, let’s do a bit of spirit rebuilding, shall we? We don’t want things to end on a note of doom and gloom, because that’s not my intention. I’ve tossed around the word “success” a lot during this post, but what does that mean, exactly? Frankly, that’s up to you. That’s what is cool about all of this: you can sit there, read everything I just wrote, and ignore it completely, if you want. That is because if your definition of writing success is: “Finish a novel and let a few friends read it,” or “Just have something published,” then most of what I said up until now doesn’t apply to you. If you are content that your books sales cover your car payment each month, more power to you. The real secret to success is to ENJOY what you are doing. If you don’t enjoy writing, what is the point in doing it in the first place? So what if you make a crap load of money doing it, if it’s all drudgery and frustration? I mean, if you don’t have a deep passion for writing you probably won’t make it very far anyway, but still.

Never forget why you started to write in the first place. Don’t let sales figures or notions of “success” cloud your vision for yourself. If you do want to make a living at the writing game, don’t deceive yourself by thinking that you’ll make millions right out the gate. The fact is, you won’t. But that’s okay, because most of us don’t NEED that much to be comfortable. If you write well, work smart, and figure out what works for your unique situation, it is possible to make a decent living doing something you love to do. I’ve come across people who have done it, and that is what I want for myself. That, to me, sounds like the definition of success.

And the Hunt Continues…

…the job hunt, that is. So far it has been largely unsuccessful, but that’s how it goes in this economy (especially in this area). Pretty soon I will be an unemployed substitute teacher. I’m hoping I can find a job over summer — teaching or otherwise — because I don’t much like subbing. It isn’t that the job is hard, but being on call all the time makes my anxiety all wacky and getting up at 6am five days a week, only to not have work most days, sucks, especially for a night owl like me. It has been a fun experience though, and it’s pretty enlightening to be on the other side of the desk. Most people’s experience of the teaching profession only comes from trying to stay awake through lessons they see little point in. Few see things from the perspective of the lecturer rather than the lecturee, and that’s a shame. Anyone who is qualified (it takes a bachelor degree and the ability to pass a background check) should give subbing a shot. At the very least, more people would have respect for teachers. It’s tough to know how hard a job is until you do it yourself, afterwards.

In other news, my novel Aral-Kahn is being edited. I wait with eager anticipation of the suggestions, because I know there are parts that could be improved quite a bit with some outside input. Now it’s only a matter of not driving myself crazy while I wait! So in order to stave off insanity, I’ve started writing the second book of Gods and Emperors, called The Immaculate. I don’t want to reveal much more since Aral-Kahn isn’t available yet. So far it’s coming along nicely, except for a little blip where I changed something from the outline that didn’t really need to be changed. I considered making the changes yesterday, but decided against it. I don’t much like editing while I’m working on the first draft. It sucks away all the momentum, because I have neurotic tendencies and once I start nitpicking, that’s it. Better to save that anal-retentiveness for the editing phase.

Oh and I’ve been writing science articles on Examiner for a few months now. I do hold a biology degree, so I figured writing for Examiner.com would be a fun way to keep up with the field. You can see my articles here, if that kind of thing trips your trigger.

That’s all that has been going on in my world lately. But enough about me, my friends. I want to know: How are you? What are you up to?

 

Two Months Left! Two Months Left!

Man, being a substitute teacher really takes me back. Sure, I’m on the other side of the desk, but being around young people (Good lord, I sound like I’m 80!) reminds me of how it was for me back then. It really hasn’t been all that long since I graduated — back in 2006 — but it’s amazing how much things have changed. A lot of kids openly carry cell phones, for example. When I was in school, even having a phone much less using it in class would be a detention. Now? Kids can use them, openly in some schools.

But as the old cliche goes, “the more things change, the more they stay the same.” The last few months before the end of the school year were, and from what I’ve seen still are, torture. The last place anyone wants to be, teachers included, when the temperatures rise and the trees bud is a stuffy little classroom.

Of course, a lot of kids are really busy this time of year, what with prom and all the other things that come toward the end of the year. I didn’t do a lot in school, so for me the time just dragged, the anticipation of the summer months building. I personally hated school. Sure it was easy for me, but I hated being forced to get up early and being made to socialize when I really would rather be left alone to play video games or read books.

Now again I am looking down the barrel of the last two months or so of the school year, this time as a substitute teacher. And it doesn’t mean vacation — now it means unemployment, at least until next school year if I decide to do it again. Subbing isn’t all it is cracked up to be, that is for certain. Easy job, for the most part, but the work is sporadic and frankly it’s pretty boring. It’s something since I can’t find work elsewhere. Now the job hunt begins again (okay, I’ve been hunting for the last couple of months, but still). Not certain how successful I’ll be, but hey, you gotta try right? (Quick aside: my novel is coming along nicely. If all goes well, it should be out the on Kindle and other platforms the last quarter of this year. That’s right: Aral-Kahn, Book 1 of Gods and Emperors, is on its way!)

Still, if only I could be back in high school again, on the cusp of a glorious three months of freedom, rather than having to worry about being unemployed or my health insurance running out in December. Ah well. That’s what memories are for.

A Cemetery Walk

CemeteryI like to take walks in cemeteries. To some people, that might seem a morbid or depressing past time, but I don’t see it that way. There’s nothing ghoulish at all about it; in fact, I think cemetery walks can be very healthy for both the mind and body. I believe people, especially Americans, miss the point of cemeteries. Did you know that, in its lifetime, a grave will be visited only twice, on average? Doesn’t that seem sad to you?

Of course, I doubt that the dead person cares one way or another. Not to be flip, but I’m not one of those who believe that the dearly departed are hovering around their grave sites taking tally of who visits them and who leaves the best flowers. If there is an after-life, I’m sure my grandpas are both a bit too busy doing whatever the afterlife consists of to worry about that. And if there isn’t an afterlife, well, they wouldn’t be conscious so they wouldn’t know the difference.

Frankly, it doesn’t matter either way. Cemeteries are not for the dead, but rather places for the living. They are meant to be a place of remembrance, where we go to touch the memories of loved ones who have gone on. Cemeteries are also reminders of our own finite lifespans. In this way, they are sacred places, because they show us the truth of impermanence. This life and all its trappings end. There is no way around it. There is no escape. That is simply how the world functions.

However, that isn’t a terribly palatable thought for most people. We are so disconnected from death. Certainly, most people know that they are going to die, but I don’t think it hits us where we live until a loved one moves into the great beyond. Even then, Death is held at arms length. The whole process of the funeral and burial is a whirlwind, and it feels like little more than a business transaction. When it’s all done, we’re left shell shocked, not quite sure what happened. I speak from grim experience; in the last five or six years, I’ve lost a lot of people. Two grandfathers, a close family friend, members of my old church family, and others.

Despite the loss, I still like to walk in cemeteries. They do not depress me. They are reminders of impermanence, a sacred space of quiet and peace where a person can see Reality for what it is. The fact of our inevitable Death does not have to be a frightful thing. It simply is. Everything in this world is impermanent, including the world itself. We are here for a little while, a single wave on the vast ocean of the Universe, driven by the winds of karma until conditions are no longer right for our continued existence. While we do not have to take a walk in a cemetery to realize these things, sometimes walking in peace among those who have gone on can help us realize it.

So take a walk in the cemetery sometime, if you don’t do so already. At the very least, you’ll have a peaceful walk.

A Note to My Loyal Subscribers: We’re Back, Baby!

Okay, so there was a mild SNAFU when I switched this beast over from wordpress.com to wordpress.org. Namely, my stats and subscribers did not make the transition with me. It took a little while for me to realize the error, and to get around to fixing it. Actually, I didn’t do much–the wonderful people at WordPress took care of things for me.

So now everyone can be up to date. The only issue is that if you followed me using your WordPress Reader, you will now no longer get updates via email. My posts will only come to your WordPress Reader. If that works for you, that works for me too. However if it doesn’t and you happen to see this post, please use the subscription widget over on the right to subscribe via email. Sorry about any inconvenience that may cause anyone!

As for the new lay out, I hope you enjoy it. I’ll be doing the same posting schedule as usual: Tuesdays are whatever days, Thursdays are about weird stuff. Thanks for making the transition with me, and I hope you continue to read and enjoy my content. I’ve got good stuff coming your way, both from the blog and from other projects I’m working on, including a fantasy series called Gods and Emperors, a nonfiction book about mass hysteria, and a possible horror anthology. So stay tuned!

Death of a Kitty Cat

It's Cuddles! Kind of an old picture, but this was how he looked before he became sick--sleek and shiny :)

It’s Cuddles! Kind of an old picture, but this was how he looked before he became sick–sleek and shiny :)

A week ago yesterday, we had to put down Cuddles, our oldest cat. Over the last year or so, the old geezer started to lose weight. We were concerned, but when animals get old their digestive systems don’t work quite as efficiently, and they start to slim down a bit. When we started feeding him richer foods (canned food mostly), he did start to recover a bit. Then last October my land lord died, and my brother and I wound up moving back in with my parents. That meant the old man cat had to leave the place he called home for fifteen years.

He seemed to adapt to his new surroundings pretty well, and he set about happily tormenting the girl cats. There were some strange things though, as he was still scrawny and he would walk around and cry at night. About a week before we put him down, he started to vomit and refuse food. We knew that the jig was about up when that started to happen–he never refused canned food. We couldn’t even get him to eat yogurt, another favorite. It turned out that his little kidneys were failing. There were things we could do to extend his life, but we decided it best to put him down. My mom and I stayed with him while the injection worked. It was very peaceful–he fell asleep, and then his suffering ended.

I do not believe in taking extraordinary measures to save an animal. They cannot consent to what is being done to them. All they know is that they don’t feel well and you are poking them, prodding them, and forcing pills down their throat. The modern world seems to have strange views about Death. It is almost as if we believe on some level that Death is something that can be defeated, or at the very least should be fought at all costs.

It wasn’t pleasant to put Cuddles down, but that was what was best for him. He was suffering. He lived a long, happy life. It was his time–pills, injections, and special diets would have only staved off the inevitable. There are times that it is best to let go. Clinging too tightly only brings more suffering to all involved. Living and dying are one–there cannot be life without death. If something is alive, it will eventually age, sicken, and die. It cannot be any other way, because we live in an impermanent, imperfect world. That behooves us not to take our loved ones for granted, be they furry and four-legged or human, because they are only here for a little while.

I’ll miss the old man cat, but it is better this way. He lived a good, long life. Frankly, he lived better than most cats and probably a lot of people. In the end, what more could a cat ask for?

I’ve Seen Jesus! …In a Grilled Cheese Sandwich.

The famous ‘Mars face’. This strange formation was first sighted in a photograph taken by the Viking I orbiter and released by NASA in 1976. The apparent face caused quite a stir amongst UFO buffs. Subsequent photos showed the face was nothing more than a mountain.

…well, okay I personally haven’t seen Jesus in a grilled cheese sandwich, but there have been those who claim they did. Reports of people seeing religious figures in random, mundane objects are pretty common–there’s even a cottage industry of shilling such objects to believers on EBay. Now the rest of us might snicker and shake our heads, thinking to ourselves that people are nuts and going on about our business. But hold on! This phenomena isn’t confined to a few who let wishful thinking and/or strong religious beliefs cloud what would otherwise be a functional rational capacity. Tell me: did you ever lay on the cool grass as a kid and stare at the clouds? What did you see? Perhaps a cloud that looked like a horse? How about a face? Have you ever been sitting in a doctor’s office, bored, staring at the chintzy wallpaper when all of a sudden you find a face staring back at you?

I know I have. I’ve seen faces in all sorts of random things. It turns out that this phenomena isn’t the result of some sort of mental misfiring, but rather it is part of our wiring. It is a phenomena called pareidolia, which is characterized by people perceiving random stimulus as significant, when really they aren’t. Basically, our brain is a categorizing machine. It despises random crap, and tries to assert order over the deluge of data constantly coming into it. Now this can lead to some odd associations; for example, baseball players are famously superstitious. Many have good luck charms or rituals that they swear by. This is a case of faulty correlation; a player happens to wear pink socks the day he hits five homers, and in his mind he associates the success with the pink socks. Really, we all know the hue of his socks has nothing to do with how well he hit, but the correlation is there nevertheless.

Now we know how the sometimes bizarre superstitions arise, but what does that have to do with an old lady seeing the Virgin Mary in her morning toast? Well, as I said, humans are pattern seeking animals. There is one pattern whose daily discernment is most crucial to our survival, even today–other people. Think about it. You can see a person’s face and instantly know whether they’re angry, happy, sad, or anything in between. Sure there is room for error there, but most people aren’t that great at controlling their facial expressions. Besides, when making a snap decision as to whether someone is going to smack you in the face with a brick and take your wallet, you’re probably not going to stop and ask how they’re feeling. Point being, for the last 2 million years of hominid existence, humans and their ancestors have had to be good at reading others. Which has made us good at picking out faces, even where there may not actually be any.

So, the next time someone sees the Pope in a fried ham and cheese sandwich, don’t be too quick to judge. They’re only being tricked by 2 million years of evolution.

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