Let me make this clear from the beginning: I am taking a vacation day from the forecasting biz today. Once I wake up on Monday April 10th, I might change my mind. But, for now, April 10th is a “day off.”
Since about about a zillion forecasts have been written about the upcoming Full Moon (Libra Moon conjunct Spica at 21 opposite Aries Sun at 21) and the Mercury Retrograde Station of April 9th, do I really need to attempt to add anything? No. (I might change my mind, but for now the answer is “no.”)
Everybody needs to replenish the well from time to time, and I have spent over seven hours on my various blogs today (Sunday, April 9th). Frankly, I am blogged out.
Some of you may wonder which to choose. If you strictly want astrology forecasts, then you should pick Grandtrines. But if you want astrology with a mix of tarot, tarot-astrology hybrid, and other approaches, then go with LDA. Which brings up an important point: I have a pretty good idea how and why astrology works. It works because we are surrounded by repeating patterns in life, and much of this is invisible to many people because they have a linear view of time and of their life.
Tarot, Numerology, Palm Reading and the rest are not so obvious. I can only guess that maybe somehow they have something to do with Carl Jung’s ideas about synchronicity: parallel events are connected by some common root that is not quite visible to us. I can buy that, but I am far less comfortable with it than I am that we have seasons of our lives as much as we have the annual seasons of the year.
Which brings me to an odd story, one that I debate whether or not I should tell publicly even if I do currently conceal my identity. The story is mine, but not just mine, and it remains inexplicable to this day.
In the late 1990’s, through a turn of circumstances that involved the intervention of the individual who reluctantly served as my mentor, I met a palm reader. My mentor was an elderly man, a pauper really but rather spiritual and a gifted astrologer, and he had been “the astrologer” at an annual Halloween party for years. That year, he told the hosts of the party that he could not attend, and recommended I take his place. Back then I was less secretive (I had not seen some of the things I have since seen), and I agreed.
At the party, I met a mildly obese real estate lady, the kind of lady who looked unusually boring, who told me she was a palm reader. She offered to trade services with me, and I agreed. I did not think much of it at the time. I had not yet learned the lesson that the “Old Ben “Crazy Ben” Kenobi’s” of the world come in disguises. Hers was perfect. Surely she had NOTHING to offer me, but, being the sort of fellow I was, I would be civil and nice and accommodate her. I read her chart, and she told me that I had done a good job.
We met three more times over the course of about eighteen months. She never asked for any money or special favors. But, she rocked my world, and she did it by reading my palm.
The first time we met, she had me pick the time and place. We met at a now defunct Indian Restaurant in Richardson, Texas. The food was too hot for her, and maybe a tad bit too spicy for me at times though I liked it anyway. The place was a bit of a dump, being a restaurant in a converted old shoe store that still had the grimy white tile of the shoe store as the flooring. It was a particularly low dollar place. I liked it. (I love restaurants with crappy decor, low prices, but GREAT food. This place qualified.)
She asked me about an event that had happened not quite ten years before. It had to be a very important event, the kind no one would ever miss or forget. I said, “Oh, yes, you mean X!” She said, unabashedly, “No! That is not it.” Rarely was she ever this direct. I hemmed and hawed and said, “Maybe you mean “B.” B landed me in the hospital.” She said, “That’s it!” She did not tell me that I “died,” but she strongly hinted at it. Whatever did happen, it was bad. Without using the words “wanderer,” or “starseed,” or “walk-in” she proceeded to tell me, indirectly, that I was one of those. We had never discussed this before, or after, and in fact she never overtly mentioned those words, ideas, or concepts (except maybe the concepts, but very indirectly). She just talked in circles for a bit eventually mentioning a “soul that was tired and ready to leave” and that “sometimes a new one ‘comes in.'”
A few years before, I had taken an Internet test to “see if you are a wanderer” and scored 18 hits out of 20 questions, but then just wrote it off and moved on with my busy life. I might fit the description, but maybe the ‘test’ was really testing for something else (like gullibility)? I think she knew I did not quite trust this line of thinking, maybe a bit too far out for even the astrologer that I am, but somehow she had nailed it.
Of course you cannot tell anyone that you are a supposed “walk-in” or that will land you where prot from KPax did. Anyway, even if I AM a “walk-in,” what would that “buy” me? Do I get a special “10% off for walk-ins” discount at Starbucks? Or do I become predator bait for every con-man on the planet? No thanks, I get too much spam already.
But, in a way, I suppose talking to her was a little bit like talking to prot.
We met twice more before our mutual circumstances changed (and we could no longer meet face to face). But those other meetings are stories for some other “day off.”
She did emphasize, strongly, each time we met that I should “teach and speak and write.” She hinted that this might concern metaphysics topics but said little of detail.
While I was writing the first draft of this, my computer shutdown unexpectedly at exactly midnight. The event can be explained away (my power plug had become unplugged and the battery drained) but the timing cannot. (I suppose it is yet another of the “remarkable coincidences” in my life.) So I took a moment to see if I could locate her by internet. I was not successful, and I fear that she might be dead. If so, I regret that we did not talk more. Alive or dead, her brief short lessons were important to me, and I will not forget her.