Morphic Resonance

“I try to be open-minded.” She told me. “After all, you can’t see with closed eyes, how can you learn with a closed mind?” Mrs. Burroughs, I thought, You’re so open-minded you’re brains are practically falling out. I let her continue.

“Have you ever heard of Morphic Resonance?” I shook my head. “You might want to use it in your writing sometime. Morphic Resonance.” She repeated it, louder and more definitively. “It’s kind of a collective conscious thing… like if you teach a group of chickens something, it will be easier for another group of chickens to learn it, across the world.”

“You know me. Normally I wouldn’t think about something like that, I’d think it was silly. But I saw the things they were doing in Christ Church. Made you think.” No time for me to respond. She rushed on. “And there was another woman I met, on the meadow behind it. She used to teach economics, you know. Before they were all about how to get rich, when they were about cultures, and people. She quit when they changed like that, and has been looking at trees ever since. She knows all about them; the stages of their life, their shapes, their colours. She tells me they each have a different personality. We look at a tree and see the leaves, she sees the branches underneath.”

“I wouldn’t tell just anyone this, Miranda. I know you would appreciate it. She really sees the world a different way.”

“You see the world a different way,” I insisted lightly. She smiled at that.

“We all do.”