GYPSY PROPHECY
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE:

COSMIC BLINDNESS

Written by Rick and Marla Archer 

Rick Archer's Note:  

Cosmic Blindness is a radical theory I developed to explain how Fate might be enacted.  In a future chapter I will cover a serious event that practically screams "Cosmic Blindness".  For that reason I would like to discuss the theory in depth ahead of time. 

To my knowledge, the concept of Cosmic Blindness has never been discussed to any great extent somewhere else.  Please do not misunderstand.  I am not saying I am first person to ever come up with the idea.  What I am saying is that I have never run across the idea anywhere else.  I came up with this theory completely on my own. 

I do not expect my Reader to automatically accept my theory of Cosmic Blindness.  In fact, I think the idea that our mind is periodically controlled by forces beyond our awareness is so abhorrent that most Readers will prefer to dismiss the possibility without a second thought.  But just because we don't like it will not make the idea go away.  What if it is true?  For that reason, in this chapter I intend to give people further reason to wonder.  Now that I have introduced the concept in the previous chapter, I would like to discuss its origin. 

 

My start of my Blindness theory dates back to 1964, age 14.  That is when a mysterious overnight attack of acne became a life-changing event.  Like many teenage boys, I had a mild case of acne, 5 or 6 pimples.  My mother could not stand the sight of pimples, so she took matters into her own hands.  She sterilized a sewing needle with fire, opened the pimples, then sterilized them with cotton balls soaked in isopropyl alcohol.  This treatment worked well five straight times over a period of months.  However, on the sixth occasion I awoke the next morning in great pain.  During the night my lymph glands had become infected.  Not only was my face burning hot, it was so swollen that I could barely move my jaw.  Scared out of my wits, I ran to the mirror.  What I saw was so grotesque that I screamed in horror.  My face was covered wall to wall by a sea of ghastly red pustules.  There was barely any trace of clear skin.  Stunned by my ghastly appearance, I burst into tears.  A dermatologist later described my condition as the worst case he had ever seen. 

What does a face swollen to twice its size suggest?  Infection.  What does the burning suggest?  Infection.  What does a mother do when presented with a son whose face is covered in pimples and has swollen to twice its size overnight?  Any mother in her right mind takes her son to the doctor immediately.  Not my mother.  She waited FOUR DAYS! 

"Oh, Richard, don't worry about it.  Stay home from school, it will clear up by tomorrow." 

Famous last words.  My face did not clear up.  In fact, it got worse, much worse.  I reached the point where the pain was so bad I insisted she take me to see a doctor.  Quite frankly I could not understand why she waited so long.  Money was not the reason.  My rarely-seen father was responsible for all medical bills.  Not just that, the last time I got sick my mother had called the doctor immediately.  In other words, considering the pain I was in, her hesitation made no sense.

The moment the doctor saw me walk into his office, he gasped.  "When did this happen?"  When my mother told him she had treated me on Sunday night, a look of anger crossed his face. 

"Mrs. Archer, this is Thursday.  Why didn't you come see me sooner?  This is a very, very serious condition.  It could very easily have caused Sepsis." 

My mother paled.  So did I.  "Doctor," I asked, "what is Sepsis?"

"Sepsis is caused when bacteria enters the blood stream and poisons it.  It is the body's most extreme response to infection.  Sepsis that progresses to septic shock has a death rate as high as 50%, depending on the type of organism involved.  Not only that, each day you waited will add at least three months to the treatment.  This condition is so far out of control it might take a year, maybe longer, to treat.  You and your mother had no business waiting so long."

This story gets worse.  A year and a half later, the acne was gone, but not forgotten.  In its wake was a veritable minefield of pockmarks, sunken cheeks and deep lines.  Despite two skin-planing operations, my face would never be same.  I was scarred for life.   

Another choice was to start a war of words, but this too was a bad idea.  I was far too ashamed of my grotesque appearance to act cocky and trade insults.  So I said nothing.  I just kept walking with my temper barely under control.  I despised Harold, but even more I hated my utter sense of futility.  I felt so helpless because I could not fight back.  But it was worse than that, much worse.  When Harold called me the 'Creepy Loser Kid', I was afraid he was right.  His cruel phrase caused intense pain at the deepest core of my being.

I did not need a therapist to know what my problem was.  I had developed an incurable sense of ugliness.  For a period of two years, every time I looked in the mirror, I saw the reflection of a truly repulsive human being.  Then there was Harold.  His 'Creepy Loser Kid' taunt drilled the message of 'pathetic' so deep in my brain I feared I would never get rid of it.

So why have I shared this story?  And what does it have to do with this book?  Three reasons.  First, those scars led to my dance career.  Second, they led to my theory of Cosmic Blindness.  Third, Blindness has serious relevance to an upcoming chapter.

Feeling hideous, the acne and the ensuing scars created an insecurity so deep that I never dated in high school.  Things did not get much better in college.  Indeed, the damage done to my self-esteem was so immense that I entered graduate school plagued by a vast array of emotional problems. 

That is where I met Vanessa, the woman whose betrayal sent me spiraling towards the Abyss.  Why was Vanessa so important?  Because her interest in me contradicted my negative self-image.  In addition to being movie-star beautiful, Vanessa was the first woman to ever say she loved me.  If a woman this beautiful could find me attractive, then maybe I was not as ugly as I thought I was.  But then I would look in a mirror and feel the same disgust that had plagued me since I was 14.  What was the truth?  Was I ugly or attractive? 

The answer was both.  If the light caught my face a certain way, watch out, those scars were illuminated in a truly humiliating manner.  And yet at the same time, unless someone looked close, at a glance I was attractive enough.  To be honest, no one seemed to care but me.  Unfortunately, however, my opinion mattered more.  Quite frankly, I wondered how any woman could stand to look at me.  Due to the insecurity caused by my scars, the damage was so great it took me 20 YEARS from the day of my acne attack to achieve my first successful relationship with a pretty girl.  I refer to this stretch as my "Epic Losing Streak".

As long as a woman with Vanessa's kind of beauty stood beside me, my positive view was validated by her interest.  But once Vanessa decided to return to her previous boyfriend, I fell to pieces.  And so did my confidence.  Told that her boyfriend was considered the most handsome man in school, I assumed the scars on my face had made the difference.  That sent me plummeting.

Shortly after Vanessa left town, I was hit by the second whammy.  Sensing I was far too disturbed to be of much use as a future therapist, the head of the Psychology Department dismissed me from the program.  Crestfallen, I returned to Houston a beaten man.  Dazed, bitter, borderline mentally ill, I had no idea how to put my life back together.  In addition, I suffered from acute loneliness.  I did not have a friend in the world, male or female.  Out of the blue, a strange book appeared with an odd suggestion. 

"When a man meets a woman he does not know, the fastest polite way to get her in his arms is ask her to dance." 

What the book did not say is that some men do not learn very fast.  Four years after the Mistress Book persuaded me to try Dance Lessons, two important things happened.  First, a career as a dance instructor fell into my lap.  Second, women began to take an interest in me for the first time since Vanessa.  To my astonishment, I was surrounded by lovely, confident women on a nightly basis.  To my undying relief, when I smiled at them, they smiled back.  Apparently my scars did not seem to bother them.  As my acute self-consciousness began to fade, did that solve my problem?  Yes and No.

Here was the strange thing.  Despite my scars, I was able to catch the eye of some very attractive women.  But here was the problem.  I could attract them, but I could not keep them.  Why not?  Because deep down I thought my scars were so repulsive that women would always move on to a better-looking man.  AND THEY DID MOVE ON!  However, in my confusion, their departure had nothing to do with the scars, but rather the 'Creepy Loser Kid' insecurity that still remained from High School Hell. 

So what saved me?  Six months after my dance career began, a new girlfriend named Jenny explained that the scars did not bother her.  Yes, she could see them, but she didn't care.  Jenny went on to say that my negative self-image was unnecessary, that the face I saw in the mirror was not the face that women saw.  When Jenny looked at me, she saw a handsome man.  Curious, I got up and took another look in the mirror.  Sure enough, I was instantly repulsed by my image.  It was the return of the Creepy Loser Kid.  Feeling hideous, I told Jenny to stop trying to make me feel better.  Jenny did not take offense.  Instead she proceeded to offer a valuable piece of advice.

"Rick, once a terrible idea is firmly planted in your mind, it becomes very difficult to remove.  My guess is that as long as you live, you will never get rid of the nasty perception that took root when you were unable to fight it.  However, you have the power to add a second message.  From now on, when you look in the mirror, say to yourself that you are witnessing an illusion, that what you see is not what other people see.  Tell yourself what I just told you.  You are a very handsome man."

As footnote to this story, I am sorry to say that Jenny returned to her old boyfriend.  Story of my life.  However, I understood.  Jenny was ten years older than me.  Her parting words were sweet.  "Rick, I will always love you, but I am facing my sunset while you are facing your sunrise.  I sense great things await you."  Since her decision made sense, I did not get my feelings hurt.  In fact, I was so grateful for her gift, I wondered if Jenny had been sent specifically to remove the blinders from my eyes.

Believe it or not, Jenny's suggestion worked.  Although the ugly face in the mirror remained the same, its power over me began to diminish.  Every time I looked in the mirror, I reminded myself what Jenny said.  In reality I was a handsome man.  I might add that my new outlook was validated by a series of very beautiful girlfriends.  Did that solve my problem?  Yes and no.  As my confidence grew, the confidence problems caused by my scarred face went away.  However, I still had a lot to learn about women.  Held back by my fear of ugliness for so many years, I was very inexperienced around women.  Fortunately, now that the major obstacle was removed, I improved steadily.  It took a while, but six years into my dance career, I developed my first-ever successful relationship with a pretty girl.  20 years after the overnight acne attack, I was finally able to put a merciful end to the Epic Losing Streak. 

In the process, I became acutely aware of two thing.  First, my scars were responsible for leading me to my dance career.  Second, my dance career was responsible for curing the emotional problems caused by my scarred face.  I was convinced this was Fate. 

Many years down the road, the day came when I realized the acne attack and my resulting problems with women were directly responsible for causing my unique dance career.  Through the gift of 'Hindsight', I was convinced by my life experiences that the acne attack was a Fated Event.  Perhaps this would be the right time to return to one of the great mysteries of my life.

Why did my mother wait four days? 

My mother's unbelievable mistake had doomed me to 20 years of untold misery.  Given the seriousness of my condition, the stupidity involved was inconceivable.  If my mother had taken me to the doctor on Day One, antibiotics would have stopped the problem in its tracks.  Instead the infection was given four days to take hold.  So I asked myself what would cause my mother to lose her mind.  Given that she had acted correctly in the past, her uncharacteristic negligence baffled me.  Quite frankly, there was no 'Realistic' explanation.  No mother in her right mind would behave in such a destructive, senseless way.

But whoever said my mother was in her Right Mind?  What if it was possible for the Force of Fate to deliberately BLIND my mother? 

And, for that matter, was it possible for the Force of Fate to plant that negative self-image in my mind?  If so, what would be the purpose?  I knew the answer to that.  My negative self-image was directly responsible for leading me to my Dance Career, i.e. my Destiny.

Truth be told, I was well aware that none of these ideas had a shred of scientific credibility.  Furthermore I had never read nor heard anything to suggest people's thoughts can be manipulated as a way to guide them to their Fate.  Nevertheless, a part of me was deeply suspicious that 'Cosmic Blindness' had been at the root of my mother's mistake as well as the sense of ugliness that led to all those years of failure with women.

Serious