third year cammie caldwell

I’m an only child because of a psychic – let me tell you the bizarre story of how.

My mother, grandmother, and uncle attended spiritual convention in the downtown Congress Center about twenty years ago. Amid the aisles of candles, books, religious brochures, and demonstrations, they passed by a man in a booth offering psychic readings. The peculiarity of the man as well as their own curiosity drew them in and they decided to get a reading done. My grandmother went first and walked out of the private room looking a little stunned. She didn’t want to share what she learned, like her mind hadn’t really caught up with what transpired during the reading. This made my mother nervous and yet her turn was soon underway. I was a one year old at the time and my mom wanted to know if she would, or should, have another baby. The psychic gave her a concrete no. This, amongst other pieces of evidence from the reading, came true. Now, since it was so many years ago, she fails to remember some details, but believes the man in the booth that day was absolutely a psychic. Did he predict the lives of my grandmother and mom that day? Did he look into the palms of their hands and into their soul? Did he feel knowledge beyond our everyday understanding?

I’m back and forth with the idea of the psychic. Similarly to how I feel about ghosts, religion, and aliens, I am a skeptic, but an open skeptic who deep down kind of wishes these phenomena would be true.

Yes, psychic practices can be peculiar and flamboyant and proven to be fake. But what if someone could look into the creases of my hands, where for my entire existence my joints have bent, and my palms have folded and see something I’m blind to. Someone with blood and a beating heart like me yet can they feel past my skin and five long fingers and see what will occur as time passes. I wish someone could simply look at my heart line and know how it feels even before I do. I wish someone could look at my head line, my life line, and my fate line and tell me everything I want to understand about myself. I think it would be, in a sense, refreshing to know there is more than what we see.

Unfortunately, I don’t know if I’ll ever believe it. Even if I had practically undeniable proof that someone could tell my future, I don’t think I’d allow myself to comprehend the experience.

My mother and grandmother did, though. They saw, felt, understood and accepted the words of a man sitting in a booth downtown. Maybe they are the tough ones for allowing their beliefs to be dynamic and their minds to be open to something as wild as a psychic, rather than me who would probably be too afraid to even have a reading done.

So, I’ll stay content with not knowing what my heart line says, because psychics can’t be real anyway.

Can they?

Follow Your Heart (Line)