INFJ – NiTi – Contingency or Catastrophe?

Because of recent events a whole heap of fear has arrived in this house. We did not order it from Amazon.  It is not my fear. I have “had” colon cancer and the wife currently has a possibility of a cancer diagnosis. She is a bit of a control junkie and to have to wait for news on a biopsy is freaking her out a little.

{NiTi means introverted intuition, introverted thinking}

As an INFJ I am more than a little future focussed and contingency is one of my favourite words. I am often to be found scoping out contingencies…preparation and planning…Because of my NiTi habit I know when there is a contingency and can easily stop it morphing mentally into an imagined catastrophe. I have control of my mind. In a bizarre way planning for the worst is very calming for me. It does not matter if my plans never come to fruition. I like preparing. I do not project catastrophe; I do like to be ready.

I’ll speculate that I am in general more able to see and anticipate putative scenarios than most and that the scope of my envisioning is well above average.

There is a problem in that this envisioning can freak others out because they imagine that what I have speculated upon is a fait accompli, it is on the cards, foretold in the crystal ball, whereas for me it is simply process.

Maybe I am a cold analytical Mike Foxtrotter…

I’ll make a comment here.

Fear is a virus way more transmissible than SARS-CoV-2. No mask, no vaccination can stop it from promulgating.

We live in fearful times:

I’ll offer the Bene Gesserit litany against fear, it works, try it…

    “I must not fear.

    Fear is the mind-killer.

    Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.

    I will face my fear.

    I will permit it to pass over me and through me.

    And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path.

    Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.

                Only I will remain.”

Lost on the Emotional Plane? – the red mist

I’ll restrict this to two primary emotions, fear and anger. There is no need to take loads of mushrooms or peyote, to completely lose the plot. It can happen in day to day life. One can become utterly lost on the emotional plane. The perception gets ever more selective and turns in on itself. All clarity vanishes, and any sense of wider perspective is abandoned. It happens by indulging in fear or anger.

Once fear gets a toe-hold it can magnify and amplify alarmingly, a deep pervading paranoia sets in. Under these circumstances the merest thing can be seen as a deep personal attack aimed at maiming or destruction. The slightest contrary opinion becomes a death threat. One figuratively puts up the barricades, lays the minefields, heats the boiling oil and readies the crossbows. One is perennially on the look-out for slights, snubs, attacks and the like. They aren’t there, they are largely imagined. And so, lost in fear, life becomes nightmarish. On edge one lashes out and destroys. One sees plots and intrigues on all sides and thereby actually generates some of these, because one starts playing secret squirrels and other related games. Tense as a tense thing on a tense day, one is like a porcupine. There is no reality simply an out of proportion fear. Threat is on all sides.

 Once the red-mist of anger sets it, all one can see is ire and hitting back. One must destroy, avenge, make them pay and otherwise teach them a lesson. It burns, and it seethes. The perception clouds over and all there is that red-mist. Skewed thereby, a being whom you might otherwise love and care for becomes enemy number one, who must face sudden, complete and humiliating destruction, preferably over a prolonged period and in public so that everyone can see that your just and deserved vengeance has been done. There is no clarity, no wider perspective just the immediacy and longevity of that anger.

Maybe after the destruction has been wrought some sense of wider perspective returns by which time it is too late. Perhaps finally you return to your senses and calm. Perhaps you can then acknowledge that your perception has been more than a tad selective.

Having cued this up:

Have I ever been lost on the emotional plane?

Did it damage or wreak havoc in my life?

Fear Quotes

We must build dikes of courage to hold back the flood of fear.

Martin Luther King, Jr.

When one has the feeling of dislike for evil, when one feels tranquil, one finds pleasure in listening to good teachings; when one has these feelings and appreciates them, one is free of fear.


Do not fear mistakes. You will know failure. Continue to reach out.

Benjamin Franklin

The day which we fear as our last is but the birthday of eternity.

Lucius Annaeus Seneca

Things done well and with a care, exempt themselves from fear.

William Shakespeare

Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear, not absence of fear.

Mark Twain

I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear.

Nelson Mandela

Expose yourself to your deepest fear; after that, fear has no power, and the fear of freedom shrinks and vanishes. You are free.

Jim Morrison

Those who own much have much to fear.

Rabindranath Tagore

It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live.

Marcus Aurelius

We fear violence less than our own feelings. Personal, private, solitary pain is more terrifying than what anyone else can inflict.

Jim Morrison

Fear is exciting for me.

Ayrton Senna

If you want to conquer fear, don’t sit home and think about it. Go out and get busy.

Dale Carnegie

Listen to what you know instead of what you fear.

Richard Bach

To conquer fear is the beginning of wisdom.

Bertrand Russell

Those who love to be feared fear to be loved.

Saint Francis de Sales

Love will find a way through paths where wolves fear to prey.

Lord Byron

Let us not look back in anger, nor forward in fear, but around in awareness.

James Thurber


That unfinished

Seeming no end

Those unspoken

Which we never send


For want of courage

With fear of risk

Remains undone

Ever on that list


Never vanishes

Always just there

Out of sight

Beyond compare


Faintly haunting

An itchy burr

Mostly ignored

The mind can whirr


Let’s procrastinate

For another year

It is not urgent

I’ll keep my fear

The Fear of Asking

safe in our omniscient world

of assumptions

we dread to ask



the illusion is not quite so

solid and real

and our precious conclusions



a tiny piece of face may fall

porcelain to the floor,

our professed understanding



and our consensual and legendary

explanations unjustified

we will have lost a “truth”

 an anchor


and the very last being in the universe

we might ask

is the very one we assume we



that vital arrogant desire

to be so right

must not be risked by a single



it is so much safer

that way

in our coterie



for in the act of asking

and finding out

our entire known universe

might implode


Why are we so very afraid to ask?

The Dweller on the Threshold

In the deadly nightshade of digitalis dreams

the pupils closed so atom tight

n’er to let a single photon pass

to live a life in camera obscura


Where nefarious necrophiliacs line all the tombs

to languish lurid in gloom and shadow

each sepulchre tainted by the ochre fading sheath

which sheds the mamba skin scales

both as autumn leaf and lost leper’s fingers


Blessed with those primordial cataracts

in the labyrinth subterranean tunnels

ever to walk the fateful string in the penumbra

lest the retinas are scarred by even faintest light


By chance the weary Dweller stumbles on

tripping toe-wise onto some carved out stairs

harsh cut deep and in the cavernous wall

a sense of archway, doorway, door

how did he sense the Angel’s spoor?


The umbilicus of the vampire darkness

sucks the belly blood fast from him

the succubus’ pull of the old familiar

whispers warnings close his ear

“Step not beyond your cloying fear!!”


Sweet honey wafts winsome in the wind

borne hummingbird happy on busy wings

where golden dapples the translucent,

faint feathers of a mountain stream trickle

far from the land of morbid doom and her sickle


One more step through that golden gate

and the snap of tripwire seals his fate

a trumpet calls the amphorae of the Gods,

the pilgrim takes a diamond dusting shower

he washes wet in radiance of an infinite hour


Far beyond the spectrum of man’s open eyes

he feels that subtle shine of wisdom wise

soothed and healed and now soothed again

he hangs for aeons in the gap between

for dark he knows and light is as yet, unseen


The Dweller takes yet more a single pace

to earn the crown of olives, for his race

his heart now facets rainbow light delight

and into the utter radiance quiet easy strolls

the magma of white magnificence does him, now enfold


The mellifluous melody of ecstatic shining white

washes the cobwebs and decay of the Lord of night.

He the Dweller is yet a boatman too

he has been both vessel and its crew

between the clashing rocks, the portal

has squeezed him self, a simple mortal


Yet further the now enlivened Soul

he marches onwards to his goal

in the pure and white, white radiant stream

at last he has fulfilled his dreams.

The clear-spring clarity now does him fill

he has gained this by both his act and his will


Bows before the triumphant triangle, golden ore

he waits as the rod strikes a new lightning sight

it sears his being deep into his very abstract core.

He has earned this most rare and Holy rite

the Rod of Power him has total changed

and all his atoms are most re-arranged.


There is The sacred emanation font

where source of stream it can be found

There is not much that needs or wants

for he has sought the simple and the sound

his heart hears what others fail to see

the only block knows he now to ever be


The Dweller was always him

and he had sat on the Threshold for,

 … … an endless


… … …eternity.

Maybe Tomorrow..

Some words are very difficult to say, or so it seems…


all that unsaid

it queues up in a line

waiting for the teller


that utterance

bayoneted by fear

it cowers in the corner


saved by a syllable

or constipated in a

closet of control?


those pursed lips

none shall pass

to give him the satisfaction


never yours

the first pawn

on that chequered square


aged and caged

by being cagey

a single word imprisoned


maybe tomorrow….

Reflection on 2020

Around this time last year, I broke the neck of my femur, which resulted in a fully immersive French language experience at the local hospital. Now I am back to walking and doing mammoth works in the garden, our oasis in the storm of Sars-CoV-2. I had my own confinement and just as I was getting up and moving about, lockdown.

Back in December I did the numerology for 2020. Two lots of 2, need for humility and understanding / destiny and two lots of zero, absolute freedom. These yielding a four, stability which might also manifest in the negative sense of minus 4, inertia. Seems to me we have this inertia now because of a lack of humility and understanding, -2. Everywhere people are wanting to get back to “normal”, whatever that means. I do not know if people can or cannot understand that world has changed and continues to do so. There is little acceptance.

When I first saw the numbers coming out of China, I wrote a predictive piece in French for my French teacher, in which I said that things were going to get bad. I began modelling the data with a no assumptions empirical model. And that modelling was goodish. Needless to say, we stocked up on stuff way ahead of the crowd, sourced big bags of flour from a local mill and bought up brewer’s yeast. I am not really a “prepper”.

Here the virus number count continues its inexorable and inevitable rise. The two departments next to ours are in red and before long the wave front propagation will reach here. On the whole I have been impressed by the intelligence and clarity with which the French authorities have manged the situation, which is in contrast to other nations as sampled by global media available on our satellite dish. Yet there is fear here too. Funny how the eyes are clearer to see now we are all masked and it is in those eyes that the signature of fear can be read. Despite all the brouhaha, fear is there, tangible. One can even see people driving alone in a car, masked lest the miasma penetrate the metal shell.

Geopolitical tensions are high, environmental disasters present, and mass protest at hand. All the pent-up emotions of lockdown simmer and seek an outlet. We have a president suggesting that elections in his country are rigged and open to fraud. One of the reasons we moved to France was to escape all the Brexit bollocks on the TV, and now again the spectre of this piece of jingoistic folly is rearing its head. You cannot get away from it.

What lies in store? Well an Autumn / Winter of discontent seems likely. The world is vulnerable to sparks, the slightest of which could kick off conflict. Sooner or later the stock markets are going to twig that the shit has already hit the fan and no amount of printing new money will fix things quickly. Hope is good but one cannot simply cross the fingers and hope it all goes away. Head in the sand is not a good strategy. We can get our fix of sports opium, but as the nights draw in that may not be enough. Tensions will build, that I think is a sound prediction.