Taking the Mysticism Out of Palmistry

Gah! My colon gets rather strained when people sit down, throw their hand in my face, and ask if their love life is going to happen or not. My usual answer to this question is “I don’t know, I’m a Chiromancer, not a fortune teller.” What I can do is tell you about your strengths and weaknesses. I can call you out on hoarding, bitchiness, over-eating, depression, insensitivity and not having the personal will power to follow through on your own desires when you are certainly helping other people achieve theirs.

The decisions you make show up on your hand like writing in a book. I can see the points where your life became complicated and changed how you think and feel about certain aspects of your life. All those lines (or lack thereof) speak volumes to me about you as a person. Often, delivering this information can give the appearance of mysticism, but it’s really not. The mystical part is when you sit down, as the last person in your trio to get a reading, and before we even begin I smile and say “Ah, now here is the left-hander of the group,” then proceed to explain how my own left-handed mother taught me to knit and crochet by turning her own work around backwards to show my right-handed brain how to make the movements. That particular trio consisted of a mother and her two daughters, all of which stared at me with their jaws open. Evidently they had been trying to learn those very things and banging their heads on the wall because of the left-right problem. This sort of illumination rarely happens though, and can not/should not be classified as palmistry.

I went to see a palm reader a while back and was rather disappointed. She gave my hands a cursory look and proceeded to inform me that I would receive two letters in the mail, one good and one not-so-good. That made me angry. I hadn’t gone for a psychic reading, I had gone for a palm reading. I really wanted her to tell me something about me that I was too thick to read for myself. We’ve all got our soft spots, and calling myself out on the right thing is not easy. I want to think the best of myself, so my lines and mounts get viewed through rose-colored glasses instead of the bare light of honesty. I don’t mind the mysticism, obviously I’m not immune to the illumination myself, but don’t screw your customers out of an honest palm reading just because you are moved to deliver other information as well. Had the palmist told me about the letters, then actually read my hands I would have come away from the experience feeling much better. Instead, she shrugged off the palm reading and pocketed my twenty bucks. I didn’t leave her a lousy review or anything, but I’ve filed away the behavior in my collection of things not to do.

This week I’m off to Michigan to visit my family. Wish me luck. We’re not the tightest knit group, but we hold on because we’re all the family we’ve got. I predict a few arguments, hurt feelings, and probably a cat fight. Real cats. My big, orange, tabby travels with me, and my mother’s calico princess tends to view him as a usurper. I get my revenge on the stalking little b#@%h by taking photos of her and doodling on them in a rude manner.

Safe travels everyone!

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