Astrology, fortune telling and real life

Blogging is quite difficult. Short blogs seem better than longer ones but sometimes longer blogs are required.

Next week I will have been married to the same man for 53 years. In anyone’s book this is a long time. A life time. I could witter on for quite a long blog but I’m not going to. Here’s a photo of the bride and groom. So young, so callow …

IMG_4369.jpg

Years ago, in Australia, I went to a Chinese astrologer. This dear old man told me that, because in Chinese astrology I was a monkey and Roland was a tiger, there was no hope for our marriage. He then asked for our Western astrological signs – a bull and a scorpion. Even worse! He was flabbergasted when I told him how long we had been married. I think at that stage we had been married about 25 years. Oh well, you can’t be right every time.

In South Africa, a Greek lady once read my fortune in coffee grounds. She was quite accurate about my history – possibly because her daughter was a friend of mine. I can’t really remember what she had to say about my future and, in the event, it would all happen as it happened anyway.

Even further back I had a reading done by a strange man who was more concerned with how I pulled faces when I spoke (I do, I know I do). He was also concerned that I should pay him immediately. I remember nothing that he said but I do remember that he was pretty creepy.

There was one astrologer I visited annually, here in Western Australia. She would draw up my star charts and her readings were usually excellent. She would tape the reading and give me the tape. Her readings for the year ahead were quite specific and accurate. I was sorry when she stopped her work as an astrologer and went to uni to do a psych degree. I imagine she would have excelled as a clinical psychologist.

Many of the times I visited soothsayers, astrologists, fortune tellers and the like was when I was in a state of flux. When I was at the crossroads, so to speak. I can remember sending a friend a cartoon of myself standing at the crossroads with signs pointing north, south, east and west. This last weekend when I was at a mindfulness retreat I drew a picture of myself with many pathways leading who knows where. In my drawing I’m heading off the page following a magpie. You’d know it was me because of my purple top and dark sunnies.

IMG_5347

I’ve learned now that life keeps on whoever I consult. I make decisions which may be right and may be faulty but I do what I do.

Astrology, fortune telling and real life

Digging into memory isn’t easy: Being there

This is really difficult, digging back in memory to find the holiday. Wendy remembers the young guide and ghillie but my memory of him is dim. I have no recollection of any of planning for the trip and rather think that Cliff and Wendy did all the organising. I do tend to be a ‘passenger’ even to this day.

Be that as it may, the cabins where we stayed were (I think) the only buildings at the north end of the island, right on the beach. We never ventured as far as the south end of the island (about 37kms away) but I recall that there were some wealthy South African dentists camped there on their annual fishing junket. The cabins were double storey and so stuffy we all slept outside under mosquito nets. There was funny smell inside, too. Rats, definitely a rat stink. There was no electricity and no cooking facilities either. Glifford did a magnificent job cooking all our meals outside on a primitive barbecue.

The first night in the camp I heard a curious rustling noise from inside the cabin. Roland wasn’t budging so I had to go and find out for myself what was going on. There were hundreds, if not thousands, of gigantic cockroaches in the shower, frantically hustling and rustling. “How can this be?” I thought. In retrospect, the insects must’ve been after water – although I have no recollection of any piped water into the chalet. After a couple of nights I got used to the rustling noise and ignored it. I doubt if we used the shower anyway, maybe to wash the salt off after swimming or maybe we just chose not to wash.

Swimming in front of the cabins was not an attractive proposition. When the tide was out it was just mud (and sea cucumbers) as far as the eye could see. When the tide was in, I knew the worms were underfoot. The swimming beach was a short walk over the dunes, on the ocean side of the island. Each day Roland and Cliff would make a shelter for Kath on the beach. They broke branches from the casuarina trees that grew a short distance back and made a tepee to keep the sun off her. She would play in it and when she was tired she’d make a little sand pillow under her towel and sleep.

Wendy and I would take turns to snorkel on the coral reef. Always, there had to be someone to keep an eye out for sharks. Sometimes we would swim together while Roland and Cliff kept watch. They spent a lot of time  in Cliff’s boat, out fishing and we ate a lot of fish. Roland remembers some of the fish he and Cliff caught but I don’t. I did find a beautiful shell which I kept for years as a darning aid. It looked a lot like the one in the illustration but a darker brown.

1191

Next time (and I hope I can keep this up) I’ll tell you about the good witch, Agapanthus. I made up the story to keep Kath amused and it went on for many episodes. Then, there was the terrifying trip back to the mainland where we were caught in the tailend of a tropical cyclone.

Digging into memory isn’t easy: Being there