I've always been a fan of fortune telling.
Ouija boards, astrological charts, and Tarot cards were abundant at gatherings with girlfriends from the age of eleven on. Like most young girls, I secretly hoped that these
pseudo-magical past times would lead me to love. Logically, even
pre-teen girls realize that twisting the stem off an apple probably won't tell you your lover's initial, but it's still fun to try.
As I grew older, the obsession continued to grow into more
expensive and 'professional' outlets. I paid to have my palm read, my tarot cards laid out, and even for a
conversation with my angels. For the most part, these readings were dead on. Sitting across the table from these eccentric women, I've had crushes predicted, engagement attempts
foreseen, and unplanned trips confirmed. All of these predictions were exciting,
enticing, and unsettling all at the same time, but I never thought that a psychic would also be the source of the best advice I've ever
received.
I didn't even like her. For years, I'd been stopping at fair booths and new age store fronts to pay strangers who would proceed to tell me all of my dreams would come true. This woman did nothing of the sort. I was on vacation in
Australia and had left behind a rocky relationship with a boy whom I desperately wanted to believe was my soul mate. We had everything in common, complete with matching plans for a future living in New York City, but despite my best efforts, everything was going wrong. I needed hope. I needed to know that we would get past this and live happily ever after like my heart believed. So I went to a
clairvoyant to have my needs met.
I'd barely sat down before she described the boy back home to perfection, right down to his crooked teeth and short stature. I became excited. This woman was about to confirm my destiny with my soul mate...
"It's not going to work out."
That's it. Six words, said with such cold realism that I immediately began to shut down, wanting to dismiss her every word. But thankfully, a part of me stayed open. She began to tell me that this boy was lying to me and that deep down I realized it [I did]. When I tried to change the subject to something I hoped would be more positive [my career, my friendships...anything] she said that nothing in my life would prosper as long as he was around [she was right]. I argued with her, told her that I wanted him to be the One for me and she said, with her trademark stoicism:
"You're acting desperate and YOU are NOT desperate."
And there it was. That statement took a while to fully sink in, but months later, after I'd gotten rid of the liar and started to sort my life out, it came back into my mind. I realized that this observation was not only true about that relationship, but about every relationship that came before it. I had a distinct pattern of feeling so grateful that anyone was paying attention to me that I never stopped to ponder whether or not
they were worthy of
my attention.
So now I do. Not just with men, but with everyone I consider letting into my life, I first evaluate their worth. I've surrounded myself with a select group of really amazing people so there's no need to be desperately grasping for every potential mate that looks my way. But one day I'll find someone truly worthy of a place in my life...and that will be the real magic.
