The example I always use when talking to my wife is the bleeding statues of the virgin mary. As a kid, like lots of people, I gobbled up all the paranormal unsolved mystery type books I could find. I was a prodigy so as a precocious reader I was reading that crap from age 3, reading at an adult (university) level at 7 and so on.
Most of the mysteries offered some form of plausible explanation- whether mundane or extraordinary. Despite eventually going into artistic fields and law, I was originally very serious minded and of scientific bent. I was quite happy to be skeptical and not credulous.
As such, statues of the virgin mary that wept or bled seemed like ultra bullshit to me. They were outside my reality box and therefore I was incapable of conceiving that the stories were true. And I am quite confident in saying…
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