Icing on the Hedgerow and the INFJ.

One of the sights I find most appealing at this time of year is the sprinkling of fallen leaves lying on top of the neatly trimmed hedgerows and mingled with the green of evergreen species. I stand and look at them with a sense of delight at the contrast between the shiny, green, living leaves, and the browns and mixed golds of the fallen, dead ones. I’ve come to think of the phenomenon as ‘autumn icing.’

And it always prompts me to think again about the nature of perception. What is it, apart from being a fundamental part of consciousness which deterministic science still can’t explain and possibly never will? More intriguingly, why do I find the sight of autumn icing a little magical while others don’t even notice it?

I think it might have something to do with being an INFJ personality type. From what I’ve heard, it appears that all INFJs go through life being aware of their strangeness, and some suffer badly through being rejected, sometimes ridiculed, regarded with suspicion, and generally written off. I’m used to it by now and it doesn’t bother me.

Quote from someone I once worked with: ‘You’re good at your job, Jeff, but my God you’re bloody weird.’

Good, good. (That’s the Irish way of putting it. My ancestor’s voice, no less. There’s probably a connection. And for those familiar with classic Irish folk songs, another thing that fascinates me is the sight of the wind shaking the barley so it ripples into waves.)