She tells me I’ll marry a man with a C or an O or an M name, or maybe a someone with a bad leg.
What about my brown-eyed Pat? I was growing fond of him! Choosing between imagined future husbands is more difficult than finding a partner in real life.
She’s not sure who it’ll be, but I definitely won’t marry him until I’m at least 27. I’ll have 5 kids, but if I only have two or three, the others will come to me as grandchildren. She doesn’t mention my future career prospects. Nothing at all? Just kids? In that case I better become an awesome mom. Maybe I should stop by the baby book section next time I’m at Eason’s...
Then, it’s time for my question. I start to ask her about the man who was murdered, and she immediately cuts me off. She doesn’t offer me any information about him or the project, just says, “Stop right there. Stop.” Dramatic silence.
“I’m telling you right now, walk away from this project.”
“What? No way! I’ve spent 8 months of my life on this! I can’t.“
“Stop! Listen to me, walk away from it. And set up a dating agency.”
“Wha?! Dating? Trust me m’am, I am not one to give dating advice- wait, why?”
“Look at this loop around your lifeline between ages 24 and 27, do you see that?”
I look down. My hand is full of intersecting lines and loops. It’s got more stars and stripes than the American flag.
“Your lifeline doesn’t lead to success until you’re 27, so you could potentially go to that foreign country now, at 24, start asking questions about a man who was murdered, and end up spending the next three years of your life in a prison over there. Tell me, do you want that?”
“No.” My head starts to hurt. Jail? Three years of my life... is it worth it? How will I cope when I return? At least I’ll have a bunch of kids around me... wait a second!
This isn’t a BBC news report about my absolute destiny, it’s a reading of the lines on my fingers by a lady who also told me that she died once as a child and scolded her guarding angels for letting her die. She even says to me, before I leave, “I’m just one person giving you my advice, after all.”
But if I don’t listen, and something terrible does happen, I could become one of those idiots on tv who talks about how she met a fortune teller and ignored her advice just before something awful happened.
Again, my head hurts. I pay the lady and get out of there, unable to make sense of anything I’ve heard.
My sister and cousin and I compare notes; we’ve heard some absolute malarkey, but we’ve also heard these women tell us things about ourselves and people close to us that they simply could not have found out about. Even if they had asked around for secrets, they wouldn’t have heard what they told us.
All in all, I’m pretty sure I’ve had enough psychic ‘advice’ for one lifetime.
Day 3: Dublin. My sister sees a sign for a psychic. One more? Do we have it in us? My answer is a wholehearted “No!” I’m more confused and worried about the things I had on my mind than I was three days ago.
My advice for people who are thinking about seeing psychics? Sit down, make two cups of tea, and have a chat with a loved one.
Acknowledge your problems, verbalize your fears, dig deep and try to find a way to go about starting to remedy them. If you’re worried about a trip that might be dangerous, do everything you possibly can to ensure your safety. If you’re wondering whether you’ll end up helping to save the world someday, begin by helping out in little ways- talk to your lonely neighbors, recycle, keep informed about human rights issues around the globe; contribute whatever you can, whenever you can.
You don’t need supernatural powers to know how to be the best version of you that you can be.
That’s the thing about the future. We may have any idea where it may lead us, but you and I are the ones who have the power to steer it in the right direction, through the choices we make in the here and now. Let’s try.
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