Mind Reading – Did You Ever Wish For It?
Mind Reading – Did You Ever Wish For It?
When I have difficulty understanding someone, I have thought that if I knew mind reading, I would be able to understand better.
However, if I could read your mind, I would want your thoughts to be in Braille. I would run my fingers through your ideas until I understood what you are trying to say.
Rather poetic, huh?
Reading minds is overrated though. Would I really want to know instead of thinking about me you are pondering what you want to eat tonight or perhaps you are thinking about what I am wearing…that it looks very stupid.
To read your mind feels intrusive. Like knowing what color your underwear is. Why would I want to know that?
Reading your mind gives me a delusion of power I don’t have, and I would not know how to handle power like that.
I assume that if I could read minds, so could you, and that would be worse than walking nude in public.
The Uncomfortable Reality of Thoughts
The thing about thoughts is they’re messy. They’re unfiltered. They’re sometimes plain rude.
If I’m being honest with myself, I don’t want to know that while I’m pouring my heart out about my passion for vintage fountain pens, you’re mentally calculating how many cats I probably own.
And let’s face it, we all have those wandering thoughts. Like when my friend Sharon was telling me about her hip replacement, and all I could think about was whether I remembered to turn off the oven. Would I want Sharon to know that?
The other day, I was sitting across from my son, who is now a grandfather, at breakfast.
He was engrossed in his waffle with sausage, and I caught myself thinking, “His beard is getting gray!” He “looks old enough to be my father!”
If he’d caught that thought, it might have quickly ended our weekly meetup at a local diner.
Mind Reading and the Invasion of Privacy
My younger son once told me he was glad I couldn’t read his mind when he was a teenager. “Mom,” he said, “You would have put me in foster care.”
I laughed, but I knew he was right. The boundary between his thoughts and his actions was what allowed him to grow up making his own choices and working through his own mistakes.
What kind of world would it be if we lost that last bastion of privacy? A terrifying one, I think. One where we’d all be constantly apologizing for thoughts we hadn’t even acted on.
The False Sense of Understanding
Even if I could pluck your thoughts from your head like apples from a tree, I’d still be missing the orchard. A stray thought without context is about as useful as a button without a shirt.
My neighbor might think “I can’t stand her cats” when she comes to visit. But without knowing she’s allergic to cats, I might assume she’s critiquing choices as a pet owner.
One snippet of thought tells me nothing about the full picture of her feelings toward me or who (or what) I live with.
And how many arguments might start because we caught a fleeting negative thought from someone we love? Marriages would collapse under the weight of every uncharitable thought we are careful not to speak.
Friendships would wither when we discover our best friend momentarily envied our new haircut while simultaneously thinking it made our face look round.
Mind Reading is aTwo-Way Street Problem
The real kicker about mind reading is imagining everyone else rummaging through the cluttered attic of my mind.
I’d be, thinking I am mentally in my own world while the grocery store checkout person knows I’m wondering why someone her age hasn’t yet retired.
My writing group would disband once they realized that sometimes when they’re bent over their notebooks with a prompt about their first car, I’m mentally replaying an episode of “Mash” I saw decades ago.
And what happens at a wedding when instead of thinking about the beautiful bride everyone knows that I am thinking about my upcoming vacation.
The Beauty of Mystery
There’s something wonderful about not knowing, isn’t there? About the dance of conversation, where we choose which parts of ourselves to reveal.
It’s like unwrapping a gift slowly, savoring the anticipation instead of tearing through the paper to get to the prize.
When a friend shows up at the door with homemade cookies there’s joy in that small mystery of being known through observation and care, not through mental trespassing.
When another friend sent a card that arrived exactly when I needed encouragement, that connection felt magical precisely because she couldn’t read my mind.
We are meant to discover each other gradually, imperfectly.
To communicate, not infiltrate.
To listen, not invade.
The Power of Words Over Thoughts
So perhaps instead of wishing to read minds, I should appreciate the art of conversation more—the gentle press of words chosen carefully and shared intentionally—the beautiful vulnerability of saying what we mean and meaning what we say.
There’s power in that exchange—more power than any supernatural ability could give us. The power of connection that comes from choice, not intrusion.
Frankly, at my age, I’ve learned that what people are willing to tell me is quite enough information to get on with.
Mind reading no longer attracts me. I don’t need to know what color your underwear is or what you think of my new haircut unless you choose to tell me.
And I certainly don’t need you knowing that sometimes, when you’re talking, I’m just thinking about whether it’s too early for a glass of wine.
Some mysteries are better left unsolved.
Instead of wishing you could read minds, I’d love to hear about a time when someone’s words surprised you in the best possible way. Share your story in the comments below, or if you’re feeling brave, tell us about a thought you’re relieved no one could ever read! And if you enjoyed this reflection, subscribe for my weekly musings where I promise to keep my thoughts appropriately filtered—most of the time.
I can’t read your mind…
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