by Jessica Myshrall, Storyteller with RU Student Life
It was Friday evening and I was standing in the doorway of a College Street apartment. I fingered the twenty dollar bill in my pocket and after a few moments of prolonged hesitation, I knocked. Before the door opened, several speculations about what was in store for me flitted through my mind: would I be led into a Bohemian-style apartment by a woman wearing a shawl and fingers full of costume rings? Would she tell me anything that would make me regret this consultation? Most importantly, would I get sucked into forking over all of my tip money to partake in a practice that is completely embedded in pseudoscience? Suddenly remembering the fact that I had actively sought out a psychic, I put aside my skepticism and allowed myself to slip into a magical world that I haven’t been in touch with since I was a girl.
A blonde woman wearing a plaid shirt and jeans answered the door and invited me into a neatly decorated apartment. Once we were both seated, she asked me to place my left hand on the desk between us — palm facing upwards — and to make two wishes. After some thought, I silently wished for two things that were as cliche as I would ever care to admit and waited for further instruction. She stared intently at my palm for a moment and then began telling me what she saw, gazing past me as she spoke.
Aside from the fact that I volunteered very little information for her to go off of, nothing she said during our time together was particularly surprising to me. In short: a blocked chakra, creative professional success, a friendship that’s not worth my time, travel, marriage, and a child. Still, I left her apartment with a sense of clarity that one could only get from having their fortune told. I had a reassuring view of the future that I’ve been working towards for more than half of my life. I was high off of the same absurd pleasure that you find inside of a fortune cookie or in reading your daily horoscope — the one that comes with the reminder that good things are lying ahead.
However true or false her predictions may have been, they filled me with the kind of uplifting hope that I was in search of. Hope is a powerful thing and sometimes, after being faced with enough real-world challenges, it can be difficult to hold on to. But it is during these transitional periods in our lives that hope is especially important. I had a lot more hope when I was younger, at a time when I believed in the magic of shooting stars and blowing wishes onto dead dandelions. My psychic consultation reminded me of the fearless faith I once had in my future, one that I needed to reclaim.
I agree with my friends in that I didn’t need to pay someone to look at my palm and tell me that I need to let go of some things. I went because I wanted to be reminded of the magic that used to exist in my world. I think we could all use a little more magic, especially when we consider how cynical life can make us.
Join the conversation using #TakeCareRU and let us know what sparks your hopefulness.