... will Triumph overcome Disaster as the predictions would have it? I have just committed myself to a work day today. What I didn't say was when that day would start ...
Today, apparently, I am achieving my health goals (really?!?!?!? - You mean I am MEANT to feel like this?!?!?!). As regards my love life, it seems that I am in danger of being obsessive about the object of my affections. (Hmmmm ... and you manage that with an ethereal entity - how? Shall I be boiling a virtual bunny p'raphs). My skills are to be recognised by those who manage me and they will make me an offer I simply cannot refuse. (Yeah! right! that'll be the graceless tw*ts who could not even be bothered to say 'thank you and goodnight' when they last met me ... ). As for the financial forecast, oh boy! oh boy! oh BOY! I am doing everything right and will soon be able to achieve my dreams. (Hmmmmm difficult to even think of a wry line let alone write one!).
I am not absolutely committed to mocking these predictions ... like most people I try to pretend I have an open mind. But I do find myself seeking out the horoscopes and then groaning inwardly at the silliness of it all and yet, still seek them out again the next day. My session with Helen yesterday helped me understand a bit more.
Predictions, horoscopes, tarot readings, pricking thumbs: these are, perhaps, manifestations of the need to be validated; to justify your very existence. Those who were or are cherished, I believe, are the well balanced people who are quite capable of validating themselves. These people do not need the reassurance of faceless shaymen or showmen to feed off their insecurities and for that I envy them!!!
There is, however, comfort to be found in the strangest of places and that is why I mock not completely. Some people pray, whether they believe or not, and I wouldn't dream of challenging them. I pray in the hope that there really is a superior being because I cannot believe that the human race is the pinnacle of spiritual progress. Some people believe in beads or other items they cannot bear to be parted with. I have a a 'lucky' necklace made in Africa from seeds. I wear it rarely; only on those occasions when I really want something good to happen. And guess what? Each time I wear it, things turn out the way I want them to. I don't want to 'wear it out' so use it sparingly even when I am tempted to wear it more often.
My other 'lucky' item is a simple Kara: a stainless steel bangle given to me 42 years ago by a young Indian lad who befriended me when I was a waif and stray on the streets of London. He said it would protect me from my ghosts and I have never let it lose contact with my skin for over four decades. Even major surgery couldn't persuade me to remove it and it had to be bandaged up. It makes a noise every time I work on the keyboard and occasionally it has bruised my arm when it has gotten tangled up in something. But still I wear it day after day. I learnt much later in life that the bangle reminds the wearer to do good with their hands. Whether it protects me or not and whether I am reminded to do good with my hands, I cannot say. What I can say is that I cannot bear to be parted from it. It inextricably links me with the Indian boy whose name I no longer remember but whose kindness sustained me through days of fear in a cold city.
Which leads me to my third source of comfort (it's that three thing again). Readers who know me are familiar with my need to acknowledge the magpie. It may be the alleged Spanish gypsy of my ancestors; or my Celtic heritage that draws me to the magnificent bird. The Devil's bird some say. The corpse of which is used to demonstrate the existence of a gypsy curse. Even farmers suspend them from fences, along with rooks and crows, to deter others from landing. I am a friend of the magpie - well - it is another 'underdog'. It is perpetually blamed for it's status, it's a killer and a scavenger and it is shot, trapped and poisoned. One woman happily went public with the fact that she lures them to her garden and traps them so they can be killed. More sinned against methinks than sinner. I have looked closely at the Magpie. It is a damned attractive bird! If it were a hooman male, it would strut down the High Street like a dandy, acknowledging the swooning females admiring him with a haughty salute. The bird's feathers are black and white but they are also sometimes dressed with a green or a blue sheen and I have never, ever seen one whose feathers were not perfectly placed where they should be. I acknowledge every single Magpie I see, greeting him as a friend. To spot TWO Magpies gives me a silly sense of well being and I end up grinning just knowing that all will be well today. And, you know what, it always is.
Be gentle with yourselves, take your comforts where you find them - just ensure that no-one pays a price they cannot afford for that comfort.
Love and Peace
THE Purple Fairy xxx
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