The Donkey Was Cuter. The Mule Was True.
Today I noticed a tiny snag.
Not dramatically off.
Just enough.
The Coherency Detective was on the case.
For several minutes, we had been discussing Bessie, a mule from our Dungeons & Dragons campaign.
A picture of Bessie had been created.
The picture was adorable.
The problem was that it wasn't a mule.
It was a donkey.
Now, I realize this sounds ridiculous.
The average person would probably look at the image and think:
Close enough.
The Coherency Detective disagreed.
Because Bessie is a mule.
A fictional mule, yes.
But a mule nonetheless.
The donkey was cuter.
The mule was true.
The image was eventually corrected.
A new portrait appeared.
As I sat there laughing, something began to click into place.
Not about Bessie.
About me.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized I have always been like this.
I've spent much of my life feeling inaccurately seen.
Misunderstood.
Misrepresented.
Placed into categories that didn't fit.
And because of that, I think I've become deeply devoted to accurate observation.
Not in a perfectionistic sense.
In a human sense.
When people tell me who they are, I tend to believe them.
When a story tells me what it is, I want to honor it.
When something feels inaccurate, my body notices long before my mind can explain why.
A tightening.
A contraction.
A subtle sense that something isn't lining up.
And when something feels true?
My breath deepens.
My shoulders drop.
Something settles.
I've learned to trust those signals.
Not because they're always right.
But because they're often pointing toward something worth investigating.
A clue.
A discrepancy.
A place where reality and representation have drifted apart.
The more I sat with it, the more I realized the Coherency Detective isn't asking:
Does this fit?
The Coherency Detective is asking:
Is this true?
Is this accurate?
Is this an honest representation of what it actually is?
