In addition to recapping episodes of my You Have Permission podcast, I’ll also share some written-only content on ROTM. This is the first of these posts, and I welcome all feedback!
The stage was set, the audience primed. Uri Geller, the Israeli-British illusionist famous for his spoon-bending feats and claims of psychic abilities, was about to perform on "The Tonight Show" with Johnny Carson. But this night in 1973 would be different. Carson, a former magician himself, had a trick up his sleeve.
As Geller sat down, ready to dazzle viewers with his purported psychic prowess, he found himself stripped of his usual props. This was particularly significant given Geller's famous claim that he could reproduce drawings hidden from his view—a feat he had seemingly performed numerous times in the past. Carson, however, advised by professional skeptic James Randi, had replaced all the equipment with items from the studio, preventing any possibility of tampering. The stage was set for a true test of Geller's alleged abilities.
The result? Geller fumbled, failed, and floundered, unable to perform even a single trick. The man who claimed to bend spoons with his mind and divine hidden images couldn't so much as guess a simple drawing when deprived of his carefully crafted setup.
Geller isn't alone in the annals of debunked clairvoyants. Take Sylvia Browne, a self-proclaimed psychic medium who frequently appeared on TV shows. In 2004, she incorrectly told the parents of kidnapping victim Shawn Hornbeck that their son was dead, only for him to be found alive three years later. Or consider Peter Popoff, a televangelist who was exposed in 1986 for using a hidden earpiece to receive information about audience members rather than getting it through divine revelation.
Other pastors and faith leaders have made bold claims about their spiritual gifts or divine anointings, often with disastrous results. Take Todd Bentley, a controversial evangelist who claimed God had given him the power to heal through violent acts. His ministry crumbled amid scandals and failed "healings." Or consider Jim Jones, whose claims of prophetic abilities and divine connection led to the tragic deaths of over 900 people in Jonestown.
More recently, televangelist Kenneth Copeland claimed he could blow COVID-19 away with the "wind of God." Needless to say, the pandemic continued unabated. These cases remind us that claims of supernatural insight—whether into minds or the divine will—often crumble under scrutiny.
These infamous incidents serve as powerful metaphors for a common cognitive distortion in psychology: mind-reading. No, not the Uri Geller or Sylvia Browne kind—the everyday assumption that we know what others are thinking, often jumping to conclusions without evidence.
In Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT), mind-reading is recognized as a thinking error that can wreak havoc on our emotional well-being and relationships. Unlike Geller, Browne, or Popoff, we aren’t willfully deceiving others about our psychic prowess. If someone asked us directly whether we were capable of mind-reading, all of us would say, “Of course not.” And yet, we routinely assume that we do, in fact, know what other people are thinking, often subconsciously.
Consider Sarah, a young professional who is giving a presentation to her team. As she speaks, she notices her manager frowning slightly. Immediately, Sarah's inner monologue kicks into overdrive: "She hates my ideas. She thinks I'm incompetent. I'm definitely not getting that promotion." In reality, her manager might have been concentrating intently or perhaps had a mild headache. There are many possible reasons, but Sarah's mind-reading distortion leads her down a rabbit hole of anxiety and self-doubt.
Religious settings can foster their own brand of mind-reading. Take the case of Michael, a devout believer praying for a job. When weeks pass without an offer, Michael's mind starts racing: "God is punishing me. He doesn't think I'm worthy. My faith isn't strong enough." In truth, the job market might be competitive, or better opportunities might be on the horizon. Michael's attempt to read God's mind not only caused him unnecessary distress but could potentially lead to a crisis of faith.
Interestingly, therapists also contend with this common cognitive distortion. We might read clients' body language and make assumptions about their thoughts. Silence from a client will sometimes get my inner critic spinning— “What did I say wrong? I must have fucked up somehow, and now he’s reconsidering working with me.” A mild panic begins to set in.
These examples illustrate how mind-reading can exacerbate negative feelings and contribute to unhealthy cycles. The thoughts ("They think I'm incompetent," "God doesn't think I'm worthy") lead to feelings (anxiety, unworthiness), which in turn can prompt behaviors (withdrawing from work projects, abandoning spiritual practices) that consequently reinforce the initial negative thoughts. It can become a self-fulfilling prophecy, a vicious cycle.
So, how do we break free from this cycle? Like Johnny Carson exposing Uri Geller's limitations, we can directly challenge our assumptions and look for concrete evidence. Can I read my client’s mind? When I ask myself this question straightforwardly, I realize immediately that, in fact, I cannot. CBT encourages us to become detectives of our own thoughts, questioning the validity of our mind-reading attempts, whether they involve other people or divine entities.
This concept is hilariously depicted in the Richard Linklater film Everybody Wants Some, which is about a college baseball team in Texas in 1980. During some afternoon downtime, the very-stoned Willoughby (played by Wyatt Russell) attempts telekinesis with his teammates: “Language is a construct, man! We used to be telepathic… The fuckin’ Mayans knew it. The Druids fucking knew it!” 😂
Here's a simple exercise: The next time you catch yourself mind-reading, pause and ask:
1. Can I read minds?
2. What evidence do I have for this thought?
3. Is there any alternative explanation for what I'm observing?
By systematically challenging our mind-reading tendencies, we can gradually rewire our thought patterns. It's not about becoming overly optimistic or ignoring gut feelings but approaching situations with a more balanced, evidence-based perspective.
There is more to say about “the mind of God” or divining (pun intended) God’s plans or desires for those of us with religious faith. Perhaps I can follow up on that idea in another post, but for now, remember that we can't read the thoughts of others or the mind of God. And that's okay. Instead of trying to be psychic or a prophet, we can focus on open communication, asking for clarification when needed, and giving others (and ourselves) the benefit of the doubt. In matters of faith, we can embrace mystery and focus on living out our beliefs rather than claiming special insight into the divine will.
By recognizing and challenging this common and usually automatic cognitive distortion, we can build healthier thought patterns, improve our relationships, and navigate both the secular and spiritual worlds with greater emotional resilience.
You can always support my work financially over at Patreon.com/dankoch — thanks for reading, listening, and everything else!
Interesting. I have experienced both. I have felt God answered my prayers, and I have agonized and felt inadequate when my prayers were not answered. Who is to question another’s faith? Now at 90 it is a combination of both.
I think I don’t know the answer, but just try to do the best I can each day with a love of self and compassion to others.
We can't read others minds, but God can read ours, because he made our mind and, if he wants to, can tell what we are thinking: Gen 18:9-15