Ever have that “sixth sense” that tells you something you really shouldn’t know?
Do you believe in astrology or psychics?
Are you the type who believes that fate or karma are real?
I am on the fence with some of these things.
I do believe in karma. I think that everything in this world is composed of energy. Even we, human beings, can be broken down to our most fundamental core as a bundle of energy.
As an engineer, I know that energy never “disappears” or dies. Einstein proved this theory and it has been the basis for many different experiments ever since. When a person dies (I’m speaking from a scientific perspective here) the chemical and electrical energy in their body is transferred to thermal energy. That thermal energy is then “absorbed” by their surroundings. Therefore, a person’s energy lives on.
If you believe, as I do, that the energy moves into a higher place, there can be a certain amount of comfort.
Back to karma…
I believe that our actions also produce energy. Think of it as a puzzle. If you lose a piece, only an identical piece can fit back into its place.
If you send out negative energy in the form of jealousy, anger, violence, only those types of energy can replace what is missing. Make sense?
Therefore, if you are a shit to someone else, someone will be a shit to you. Karma.
As for astrology? I’m not sure how I feel about the whole “pre ordained” notion that because I’m a Libra, I will have more of a tendency to act in a certain way than someone who is a Leo.
I can read the character traits of my sign and easily say, “oh. That’s so me!” because I want to believe that those positive qualities (the desire for truth and fairness for example) are alive and well inside me. If I were to focus on another sign, I’d probably want to believe that those positive qualities are also alive and well in me. We tend to look for what brings us comfort and understanding.
Now, let’s talk about psychics.
I am an educated person. Firmly rooted in the world of numbers and scientific theories. However, I am also a Christian. For years those two worlds collided and I still have days where I question my faith because of my knowledge of the world around us.
But sometimes there are things that I just can’t explain.
I’m going to tell you a story. One that I haven’t shared with many people because it happened when I was very young and everyone except a select few chose to dismiss it as an overactive imagination.
When I was 5 years old, my mother was working two jobs. She would work at a local factory (they made sterile guaze for a large medical company) during the day and she worked as a bartender at night.
This meant I spent a lot of time at daycare or with a babysitter keeping watch over me.
One morning my mom had the opportunity to go to work earlier than usual. She always grab the chances to get any overtime she could so she had worked out an arrangement with the daycare I attended to drop me off two hours before their normal hours.
On this particular morning, it was around 4:30 am. It had been sleeting the night before and the weather was horrible. We went inside, my mother put me down on a couch that had been made up for me to sleep on until the other kids showed up and left.
The room I was in was in the front of the house and we always entered and exited through the back door where the parking lot was.
I lay there on my makeshift bed when all of a sudden I couldn’t move my arm and I saw my mother fall off the back steps. I jumped up, ran to the back of the house screaming and was intercepted by the woman who was watching me.
I explained that I had seen my mom fall and she needed help.
The woman gently explained that I had simply had a bad dream because there was no physical way I could have seen my mother from the room I was in. I argued and protested but eventually accepted it as truth and went back to the couch.
That evening when my mom picked me up she was in a cast. She had slipped on a patch of ice while leaving the daycare and fell down the stairs breaking her arm.
I told her what had happened and, I still remember the look on her face, sternly said, “don’t ever tell anyone about this”
Years later, I started having a recurring dream. I still have it now from time to time.
In the dream I’m in a house. A house I’ve never seen in real life and one that is in poor repair. There are holes in the roof, the front is in shambles and all in all, it’s not in livable condition.
One time I was at my moms for a visit and she began talking about how she had her house dream and she needed to call my sister to see if she was having it too.
I perked up. “What do you mean?”
When my sister was in her late 20’s or early 30’s she mentioned to my mother that she kept having a dream about a house. It was run down and a mess. My mom confessed that she had the same dream.
I asked my mom to describe the house. But, I asked her to describe very specific details about it.
“What is the bathroom like?”
My mom went on to tell me how the bathroom was huge. It had 3 doors that entered into it and the tub was on a raised platform. For some reason there was no shower and the vanity only had one sink. And there wasn’t tile or linoleum but a God awful gold colored carpet in there.
She could tell from the look on my face what I was thinking.
“When did you start dreaming about it?”
Now, I don’t think that any of the women in my family are necessarily “pyschic” but it did give me the heebie jeebies.
That brings me to the actual point of this very long, drawn out story.
Yesterday Julie and I went to a casino in a neighboring town. A few friends had planned the trip and we decided it would be an interesting change of routine. I have never been a gambler and if you need to make some quick rent money, just ask me to play a game of Texas Hold Em with you and you’ll walk out with my wallet!
While we were there, we decided to stop in and have a quick go around with a pyschic that had a shop there. It seemed like quick fun all for the low price of $10.
We each went in individually because that was what she required. Ok. Whatever.
I expected her to ask me a lot of questions and then make up some bogus fortune about my wonderful marriage or how I’ll be coming in to a lot of money soon. You know..the typical carney fortunes that everyone hears.
When I walked in she smiled and asked my name and date of birth. That was it. She then started to tell me about very specific people in my life. Telling me that this one is struggling with legal problems and doesn’t know what to do, that one is actually in a depressive state because she’s worried about losing her job, etc.
It was not what I expected. As we drove home last night, I asked Julie about it and, to my surprise, she was very aloof. She told me this morning that it was because the woman told her things she couldn’t have possibly known and it freaked her out a little.
I explained that the same thing happened to me but we both acknowledged that our “fortunes” didn’t involve each other so we were ok with us having this one secret to ourselves.
I called my friend that I felt was the best fit for one of the things she had told me. I chatted with her ad after about 20 minutes discovered that she did in fact have some serious legal issues. Her step father passed away and left her the house but his children from his first marriage was contesting the will because they felt the house belonged to them.
I offered to help her find a good attorney and by the time we got off the phone, she seemed to be feeling much better.
I’m not sure what I think about all this. If I called enough friends, I’m sure I would eventually find a few that matches with what the psychic told me. On the other hand, if I believe in karma and the possibility that the women in my family can share the same dream, why is it so hard for me to believe that this woman actually saw something in me?
For the record…Huey has had the dream but Louie never has.