As I usually do on my birthday, when I turned 57 on May 27th I figured out my "life lesson" number for the upcoming year. This is the number that gives me a clue as to what will be my major lesson to learn during the upcoming year, until my next birthday. This year, my lesson number is a six, which corresponds to The Lovers card in the Tarot, which I thought was great. The Lovers is Gemini, and since I’m a Gemini this would be a pie year. All I’d have to do is to just learn to be myself – and I’ve already had 57 years experience doing that.
Unfortunately, that conclusion turned out to be a case of wishful Magickal thinking. You see, nowhere in the volumes that have been written on the Tarot does it say that The Lovers means "being yourself" if you’re a Gemini. Not a word. But there’s been a lot written on how The Lovers deals with "choices."
I began to get a glimmer that this wasn’t going to be the pie year that I’d surmised on the evening of my birthday. About midnight, while driving home, a forty mile jaunt, from my job as librarian at an arts school, on a pitch dark back road in the boondocks, my car began sputtering and just died a few miles later. This was the same car that only a week earlier we’d written a check for $800 which we couldn’t afford to have the transmission replaced. Perhaps we shouldn’t have made that decision?
Nine days later, Magick, my best friend for nine years, a Golden Retriever mix, died suddenly and unexplainably. That brought to mind all sorts of questions about choices that will probably never be answered (and left in my heart a hole that is only now beginning to heal).
About a week after that, while out on a Sunday drive, we were side swiped by a hit and run driver. Luckily, we weren’t hurt, and the only damage to the car was to the driver’s side mirror, which was destroyed (you wouldn’t believe how much Volvo wants for a lousy mirror). This, of course, brought up more questions about choices. Like, the same one about spending hard earned cash on the car. Or, on our choice to take that road at exactly that time. At this time, I began to wonder exactly what it was that the universe was trying to tell me.
On July 4th there was another incident with the car. This time it was a drunk driver on the freeway who, for two or three miles, was determined to take us out with him. Eventually, he ran off the road into a guard rail and spun back across the road in front of oncoming traffic. Luckily, no other cars were involved in the accident, and he must not have been hurt too badly because there was nothing on the incident on TV or in the paper. However, we still had to wonder, what the heck is going on.
But then things got better and I figured that this run of luck was over.
Until last week, that is.
A week ago Monday, I found a tick dug into my side at my waist, just about at my pants line. I figure that it’d been there about 14 hours, since on Sunday afternoon I’d "chosen" to sit in the grass outside our barn, changing a headlight on our old Jimmy. I thought about ticks at the time, and had intended to have my roommate check me throughly after returning to the house.
To make a long story short, I forgot, my roommate didn’t check me, the bite got quickly worse and I’m now taking antibiotics to prevent any tick borne illnesses like Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever. The good news is that I "chose" to go to a doctor quickly, so I just might escape the horrendous symptoms of the disease.
The moral of the story: don’t be too quick to interpret your numbers, Tarot cards or astrology in the way you wish things to turn out. Be strong and face the music. That way, the universe won’t have to hit you over the head to get you to pay attention.
©Copyright
2008 by AlternativeApproaches.com
Christine Hall has been working as a journalist since the 1970s. She currently hosts a weekly radio show of sixties music, The Sixties in 60 that can be heard every Sunday at 6 pm Eastern Time on The Barrel of Rock.
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What’s In a Number?
As I usually do on my birthday, when I turned 57 on May 27th I figured out my "life lesson" number for the upcoming year. This is the number that gives me a clue as to what will be my major lesson to learn during the upcoming year, until my next birthday. This year, my lesson number is a six, which corresponds to The Lovers card in the Tarot, which I thought was great. The Lovers is Gemini, and since I’m a Gemini this would be a pie year. All I’d have to do is to just learn to be myself – and I’ve already had 57 years experience doing that.
Unfortunately, that conclusion turned out to be a case of wishful Magickal thinking. You see, nowhere in the volumes that have been written on the Tarot does it say that The Lovers means "being yourself" if you’re a Gemini. Not a word. But there’s been a lot written on how The Lovers deals with "choices."
I began to get a glimmer that this wasn’t going to be the pie year that I’d surmised on the evening of my birthday. About midnight, while driving home, a forty mile jaunt, from my job as librarian at an arts school, on a pitch dark back road in the boondocks, my car began sputtering and just died a few miles later. This was the same car that only a week earlier we’d written a check for $800 which we couldn’t afford to have the transmission replaced. Perhaps we shouldn’t have made that decision?
Nine days later, Magick, my best friend for nine years, a Golden Retriever mix, died suddenly and unexplainably. That brought to mind all sorts of questions about choices that will probably never be answered (and left in my heart a hole that is only now beginning to heal).
About a week after that, while out on a Sunday drive, we were side swiped by a hit and run driver. Luckily, we weren’t hurt, and the only damage to the car was to the driver’s side mirror, which was destroyed (you wouldn’t believe how much Volvo wants for a lousy mirror). This, of course, brought up more questions about choices. Like, the same one about spending hard earned cash on the car. Or, on our choice to take that road at exactly that time. At this time, I began to wonder exactly what it was that the universe was trying to tell me.
On July 4th there was another incident with the car. This time it was a drunk driver on the freeway who, for two or three miles, was determined to take us out with him. Eventually, he ran off the road into a guard rail and spun back across the road in front of oncoming traffic. Luckily, no other cars were involved in the accident, and he must not have been hurt too badly because there was nothing on the incident on TV or in the paper. However, we still had to wonder, what the heck is going on.
But then things got better and I figured that this run of luck was over.
Until last week, that is.
A week ago Monday, I found a tick dug into my side at my waist, just about at my pants line. I figure that it’d been there about 14 hours, since on Sunday afternoon I’d "chosen" to sit in the grass outside our barn, changing a headlight on our old Jimmy. I thought about ticks at the time, and had intended to have my roommate check me throughly after returning to the house.
To make a long story short, I forgot, my roommate didn’t check me, the bite got quickly worse and I’m now taking antibiotics to prevent any tick borne illnesses like Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever. The good news is that I "chose" to go to a doctor quickly, so I just might escape the horrendous symptoms of the disease.
The moral of the story: don’t be too quick to interpret your numbers, Tarot cards or astrology in the way you wish things to turn out. Be strong and face the music. That way, the universe won’t have to hit you over the head to get you to pay attention.
©Copyright
2008 by AlternativeApproaches.com
Christine Hall has been working as a journalist since the 1970s. She currently hosts a weekly radio show of sixties music, The Sixties in 60 that can be heard every Sunday at 6 pm Eastern Time on The Barrel of Rock.
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Christine Hall has been working as a journalist since the 1970s. She currently hosts a weekly radio show of sixties music, The Sixties in 60 that can be heard every Sunday at 6 pm Eastern Time on The Barrel of Rock.
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