Funny noises with the mouth

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A thought occurred to me this morning:


Perhaps before we had language we had other ways of communicating. And then as language developed these older methods fell into disuse, and were eventually "forgotten".

Evolution depended on survival. Could it be possible that we developed "telepathy" – which may, at its most basic level, may have been just the communication of raw feelings: fear at the impending approach of some predator, transmitted as a danger signal to other members of the tribe; grief; sexual desire; love, even; the ability to make our presence felt to others. As we evolved so may our skills:  the transmission of visual images (still and moving) and other  non-language communication.

Now, in our highly sophisticated world of language, we have lost sight of, or "forgotten" these earlier skills – perhaps they have atrophied, like our tail when we finally came down from the trees, and we are just left with a vestigial “psychic coccyx”. (It would be interesting to mount a study to see if there is a correlation between the length of the coccyx in humans and their ‘psychic’ ability).

Nevertheless, inn our technological age, when someone experiences a sudden inexplicable "knowing", we either dismiss it out of hand or we label it "supernatural’"Of course there is no such thing as "supernatural". If it exists, then it is natural.

I wonder,  is it coincidence that people with the least developed language skills seem to be the ones most likely to experience this "psychic" phenomena? I am thinking of adults, but young children often have "imaginary" friends. (My daughter had one – his name was "Mancroft"). Of course this may just be imagination… on the other hand, it could be that young children have not yet been educated out of these other ways of seeing and experiencing.


Another (completely unrelated) thought:

 Did Pope Julius II call Michelangelo "Mick"?
I like to think so:


You sent for me, Your Holiness?


Yes I did, Mick. Come in and shut the door. Take a pew.


Thanks, boss. That was a great sermon you preached last Sunday, boss – the camel and the eye of a needle stuff. That’s one in the eye (if you’ll pardon the pun) for the wankers (sorry, Bankers). Yes, Boccacio was right -


Never mind all that, Mick. It’s about this little job you’re doing for me.

What job would that be, boss

The painting of the Sistene chapel, of course.


Oh, yes, I’m really cracking on with that.

But that’s the point Mick, you’re not cracking on with it.


How do you mean?


Well, don’t you think you’re spending just a little too much time on the ceiling?


Pardon.

I cannot risk Mass in there with you on your back up on that scaffolding. It’s a Health and Safety issue; you do see that, don’t you?’ What if you fell and injured one of the congregation? We’re in a “compensation culture” now, you know, Mick. It’s more than my job’s worth.


I mean, admittedly it’s very nice – all those cherubs and stuff, although personally, I would have preferred something simpler - a plain eggshell blue, for example.  But the thing is Mick… well, I’m not trying to tell you your job – but I was round there yesterday, and you haven’t even sanded down the doors yet!

What?


And then there’s the window-frames and the pews, and the stonework’s going to need a good going over with the wire brush.


Excuse me, Your Holiness - I just quoted for the ceiling.


Now, no excuses, Mick. Remember how you came knocking on my door, with all the spiel “ Just in the area – got a load of paint over from the last job – noticed your chapel could do with a touch up - cash in hand – no VAT.”
We're talking about the chapel, Mick – the whole caboodle.’


Nah! Sorry boss, not at that price.

Well, you don’t get paid until you finish it – the complete chapel.


Now hang on, Your Holiness – we had a contract. A verbal one, admittedly.


(Laughs) Well, you know what they say Mick – a verbal contract’s not worth the parchment it’s written on.


(Mumbles under his breath) Yeah, well you Popes aren’t exactly renowned for paying up anyway… I’ve been done before…


What was that?


I was just saying… I’ve been up there so long; I’m nearly done for. All I want is a fair price for the job.


I’m trying to run a church here, Mick. And what with the overspill from St Agnes’ after the arson, I need every bit of space I can get. I'm sorry, Mick, but it's the whole chapel - or no payment.

 ‘You drive a hard bargain, boss. Tell, you what: my brother’s just been laid off; the recession’s hit the road building real hard. He’s usually on the “black stuff”, but he can turn his hand to anything. How about if he helps me with the downstairs stuff? Another five florins, and we have the job completed Sunday week?


Done.


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I agree with you, Anna about the selling sex thing. I acknowledge that half an hour is not long to form a meaningful relationship; an hour would be better, although more expensive.


But that is not the point. What about all those ugly folk, who cannot attract a mate? The socially inept? The chronically shy? The psychologically damaged? How would they be able to satisfy their sexual urges if it were not for thes ladies? These "escorts", "call-girls", "prostitutes" - whatever label you wish to append - perform a service, fulfil a need.
In an ideal world (or so we have been brought up to believe) we should all "entitled" to a  loving, meaningful  relationship, with the trust, caring, companionship and  intimacy that this implies.
It is another lie, of course. This is not ours "by right"; we may be lucky, and achieve it. Most people don't. Some, by accident of birth, uprbinging, life trauma, never even stand a chance.

I think Brian's cold may have come at the right time - for you, Anna, not for him. It has alerted you to the downside - the incredibly down side - of marriage. And believe me, phlegm would be the least of your worries.

Anyway, don't come to see me until Brian's cold is better. (If one person catches a cold in here it goes through the whole place.).

I am working on the fiscal problems I mentioned and hope for a good outcome; an outcome that will benefit both of us.

Looking forward to seeing you - post phlegm.

Love

George