Day 22. Non Event

Are you into astrology?  I am, to a point.  I’m not a slave to it.  I don’t have an astrologer on retainer.  I am capable of making decisions before I’ve read my daily horoscope.  But I am curious about it.  And very often I’ll see an astrologer or read a horoscope that describes me, an event in my life, or something I should be aware of, that is absolutely bang on.

Years ago, in Montreal, I worked with a fashion designer who introduced me to his astrologer.  He was amazing.  The first time I went to him, he absolutely insisted that I was one of three children.  I kept insisting that I was an only child.  Which I am.  He said we didn’t all have to be living — that my mother had conceived three times.  That gave me pause, because my mother had an ectopic pregnancy when I was four years old.

But still, that would have made me one of only two conceptions.  He wouldn’t let it go.  Normally, he would have totally pissed me off, and I would have cut the appointment short.  But there was something about him.  Before I left he made me promise to ask my mother and let him know what she said.  The instant I left his office and got home (pre cell phone days) I called my mother and said I was coming over.

At first when I told her that I’d been to see an astrologer she was dismissive.  “Well”, she said.  “You’ve just blown a hundred bucks.”  Then I told her that he’d been adamant that I was one of three children.  Her jaw dropped.  And then she told me that she’d had a miscarriage before me.  Then she decided she wanted to go and see him, herself.

I went to him regularly for years.  By regularly I mean once a year, before my birthday.  The timing was his idea.  He felt it was important to be able to prepare for what was coming.  Seemed logical to me.  He also said that it was possible to change your upcoming year — should it not be favourable — by spending your birthday in a location where the planets were going to be in a different location, formulation, you’ll have to forgive me if I’m a bit vague, it was long ago.

So one year, I spent my birthday in Calgary.

Luckily for me, there was a woman I’d become somewhat friendly with, who worked in the Calgary office of the ad agency I worked for.  By now I had moved to Toronto.  When I discovered that I could avert some unnecessary stress in my life by going out West, I gave her a call.  She was a ‘suit’ and used to working with slightly off the wall creatives, so she thought nothing of my request.  A few days later, she and her daughter picked me up at the airport.  We had a fun weekend and I came home with a gorgeous pair of cowboy boots and a Stetson.

No one will ever know whether or not this little unexpected weekend away changed my life for the better, for the worse, or not at all.  How could we?  I had no basis for comparison.  As far as I know, Donatien (the astrologer) was not on any airline’s payroll.  He had no vested interest in sending his clients packing (literally) before their birthdays.  So isn’t it possible that he was right?  He sure was right about a lot of other stuff.

Not so with my horoscope in yesterday’s Globe & Mail.  To quote, it said:  “You seem to believe that everyone but you is in on some kind of secret.  It may be true, but more likely you are being a bit paranoid.  Stop worrying about what other people know — it’s what you know that matters.”

In case you’re wondering, I’m a Pisces.  Not all that charmed by mine, I read all the other horoscopes, as well.  There was no one I would have liked to change places with.  Seems yesterday could have been better for everyone.  Come to think of it, I’ve never needed an astrologer to tell me that, in general, Mondays can leave a lot to be desired.

As for my Monday, I spent the entire day eyeing everyone who crossed my path with suspicion.  If, in fact, any of them had a leg up on me, and was in on a secret I wasn’t in on, a day later it’s still a mystery to me.  As for myself, I still don’t know what it is I should know.  If that’s all I was supposed to get out of yesterday, it was a total write-off.

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