I’ve been obsessed with astrology lately, in the last few days I’ve probably spent a good 12 hours looking up and reading what the planets and stars whisper about me. What apparently my future looks like, how my personality is influenced, what I should be cautious about and what I should put my energy into.
There’s a lot of over lap, among all the different ways the skies are translated. Be it the normal horoscope, Chinese astrology, birth charts and more. Apparently I’m fast paced, I get bored easily, have a high attention to detail and I need to stop being so sarcastic because I don’t see when my sense of humor rubs people the wrong way. With love I get drawn in to things easily, I fall hard and fast, I let my emotions get the best of me.
I’m not a completely illogical and gullible person, I like to think I’m quite skeptical about things. I read a lot. It was constant, and it was consistent. Which made me feel comforted in some way, the fact that everything was okay because fate was supposed to put me in this ‘turbulent time’. I was destined to have a difficult 2014, and apparently 2015 is the year of change and transition. Nervous energy will be my main driving force, which I can either allow to break me, or channel it into something productive.
So when you find yourself reading all of these theories about yourself, all of the rumors spread by the heavens and written by man across time. When a lot of it proves to be true, and you have a mixed sense relief and frustration, when it tells you what you should expect – how do you react? If someone could foresee the future as though it was written as clearly as the words you’re reading now, what would you do with it?
You watch the movies and read the books, and in theory it shows you the delicacy of time and the inevitability of fate. There comes the questions of if you believe in fate, if you see free will as a movement moved by the magnets of the universe in which you feel you have full control, a naivety that maybe the force of what guides us chuckles at. Or if you think astrology or predicting in any way is naive.
I grew up with my Mum obsessed with Tarot cards and the spiritual world. She studied Reiki (a spiritual japanese art of healing), she had an aromatherapy business – she was as hippy as it got without having the middle name ‘Rainbow’ or ‘Star Dust’. My dad on the other hand, was a lawyer by trade, a business man of logic and wit. Well read, and could outsmart anyone with facts of their own profession. Although, he never saw my Mums views on the ‘boogie woogie’ spirits as naive, because the man who could see the transparency of anything and could unravel the most complicated web of lies from a distance also believed.
My parents saw a psychic when I was younger. She predicted things, things about my parents and their friends which turned out to be true. One of my dads close friends came up to me during the funeral and told me of one of these predictions which turned out to be spot on even though it involved a prediction which he felt was absurd at the time. She told my dads friend not to go to South Africa or he would be in grave danger and most likely die. He laughed in her face and said he never planned on going to South Africa and nor was he… one year later and he was surrounded by lets just say, unfavorable circumstances in the heart of Cape Town. He lives to tell the tale, but did admit his thoughts at that time were her words. Maybe words that allowed him to tell the story today?
Maybe it was that story that made me so obsessed with horoscopes at the moment. The idea that spiritual guidance can provide warnings and cautions that can alter the way we act and ultimately change lives… if maybe someone told me to be more thankful and verbal to my Dad. Maybe so when he sent me that last text, I called him straight away to say thank you, and that could of been a catalyst which could of kept him here today… but you’re not supposed to feel guilty in these situations. I shouldn’t blame myself. But there is a little bit of me that wonders… a small curious voice which kills me inside. Because I know its wrong, and I know how brutal its accusation is, but it softly coats my thoughts at times. The feeling it brings is indescribable and nauseating. But it lives on, because my father doesn’t.
I don’t want to know a detailed forecast, I don’t want to know who I might end up with or where I should work. How I’ll live my life, or what will bring the end to it. I just want to know how I should live. How I should think. I don’t want clear answers, I want to know what direction to take. Because at this point, I can’t make plans. I can’t decide on how I want things to be, because right now everything is unpredictable and when you can’t plan all you can do is take little steps in the right direction. Take one step, learn from it, than take another, and learn from that one. Until those steps can turn into a pace in which the path turns from a guessing game of left and rights, to an etched out track, complete with a map. I’m just looking for the compass. Right now I need a compass. Because at this point I don’t think I can emotionally afford any more wrong turns, and maybe its that feared state of thinking where my years worth of nervous energy is sprouted. Because in reality, I am scared, and I am worried. I’m nervous.
This is were I say that I would like a magic compass, even though in previous posts I denounced magic. Because I’m a hypocrite. And these are my collective words of a divided mind. Title. Explained. Anyhow…
Till next time x