My mom was smart…scary smart. The kind of smart that sized up every one of my first dates, friendship choices and career opportunities and if given the chance, handily predicted the final outcome before I even got started. She also knew everything there was to know about politicians, medical cures and current events. Plus, she always knew when I was fibbing about anything — no matter how well-rehearsed.
She wasn’t always so smart about herself, by the way. If she had been, she would have noticed that every time she spilled the beans before I was ready to hear it, a little door slammed shut in my heart. By then it would have been too late, anyway. Even if she had ever learned not to speak every intuition, insight or revelation aloud as if it were fact, I always knew that she knew way more too soon than any mere mortal ever should.
It wasn’t just my mom, by the way. It was all of her sisters…and beyond my personal family. In other words, freedom has to include at least the potential for making errors of judgment, stupid mistakes and a fool of one’s self.
So here’s the thing. Whatever it is, I caught it. I first realized I had this scary smart thing going on right around the time my first child was born — and it’s only gotten worse since. I’m not sure how I know things — but I often do.
It’s probable that I inherited this fair and square from generations of women who have, like it or not, honed their intuitions to draw conclusions from whispers of indicators that would elude less tuned-in guts. At least that’s one theory. I do know (and this is a fact available to anybody who cares to look it up) that women have a whole lot more brain matter, in the form of dendrites, packed into our smaller skulls than do the males of our species.
I’ve also learned, from my studies about intuitive decision-making (about which I have not coincidentally written a book for Random House: Solved by Sunset) that the more observant one is — the more information one takes in — the more accurately one’s gut tends to function. By this explanation, it may not be generations of DNA that is the culprit, but rather the on-going scanning of the environment that women have had to come to rely upon for emotional survival in male-dominated societies.
Whatever the cause, I’ve learned something that’s helped keep that door-in-the-heart thing from slamming shut in others, at least some of the time. For in addition to keeping my lips sealed, I force myself to at least entertain other than the most obvious (to me) probable outcomes as real possibilities. Sometimes, I am even able to put the whole matter aside by doing something either very quiet—like meditation — or very loud — like playing along to pre-recorded music on my portable keyboard.
And then, too, I’ve done something that my mother had a real hard time with: taking the leap of faith that even though I can not prevent bad things from happening to the people I love, it’s somehow more or less sooner or later going to be alright.
I think of it as evolution to be both scary smart — and to relish surprises. And the good news is: I’m rarely disappointed.
Carole, once again, you manage to write something that tugs at my heart. We are intuitive, most of us anyway. It’s when and where we chose to share our insights that count. I can see you clearly, a little girl excited telling your mother something that came to you in the form of an inspiration and having it quelled. Mom was wise only in passing along to you the value of observing and appreciating what it is and how we shouldn’t assume to know the ending of everything. It’s much more fun to see how something plays out, how someone matures in their dreams and then the surprise on us when it does turn out to be different. I just love reading your posts. Thanks.
Oh Carol, you’ve done it again. Wonderful thoughts, thank you. My mom was like that too. Most of the time growing up she made rules that kept us out of harms ways, but she was fairly quiet about what she knew. Wow, did she know lots. When I grew up a little I asked her what gave her the insight and intuition that she had about things. She told me it was a gift from God. I wanted it. Be careful what you ask for . . . I got it. Sometimes my “knowing” scares me. Wisdom comes from somewhere and often I can’t repeat words of wisdom I have spoken to someone after the fact. Your sixth paragraph talks about the more information taken — the more accurately one’s gut tends to function. That explains why the intuition becomes so acute with passing of time. I think I’ll get your book.
Thanks all! I must say, there is grace in growing and developing all your life, as it isn’t a given–although it feels like it should be. But some people make choices that limits the information they take in, and make choices that cause there worlds to become smaller and smaller. So to all who resonate with the notion of being scary smart–and esp. those who think everybody evolves in this direction–you are doubly blessed.
Great column Carol. I will work on my intuition…I’m not sure I am scary smart enough yet! –Beth Sanders, http://www.lifebio.com
Hi Beth, give it a decade or two!
Carol – What a wonderful post. It’s really helpful to be reminded that we all – women in particular – know so much more than we give ourselves crediti for. As you and “Granny” above have pointed out, I think we learn with age and experience to recognise and trust the gift of insight that was always there for the taking. Your mother sounds wonderful, how lucky you were to have her as a role model. Without her example, it might have been harder for you to find it in yourself. My mohter, and grandmother too, are/were wise and powerful women, and there were many others who have powerfully influenced my life. There’s something else to remember – when we can claim and hold our own power, we pave theh way for the next generation of young women that stand behind us – our daughters, grandaughters, and all others who, consciously or not, are watching and learning. Thanks again. – Sarah