Psychic Head Games and an Abundance of Free Will Choices
Copyrighted by Lorna Tedder. Originally published in Third Degree Tilt.
On my way to work yesterday, I put aside my tape recorder and my dictation, and I had a little talk with the Gods about choices. â€œWhat am I supposed to do now?â€ I asked. â€œI know where Iâ€™m supposed to be, but I just canâ€™t see how to get there.â€
Metaphorically speaking, I was asking about my life, but at the moment, I was stuck in traffic behind a great, big lawn tractor with planting attachmentsÂ and clean-up equipment on an oversized Â trailer behind Â an oversized truck. In the Â center lane. With everyone in the lanes on either side of me moving ahead while I drummed on the steering wheel and wondered when my turn would come. Yeah. Wouldnâ€™t want to miss these metaphors.
Iâ€™ve definitely felt some forks in the road recently. Big choices. Â Major life Â decisions Â on Â things Â a Â few Â months down the metaphorical road. Like the Gods are giving me all kinds of choices and telling me certain things are there for me and I get to pick which ones, Â but some will re- quire a little wickering Â and a little waiting for them to happen. But theyâ€™re there if I want them. Life is abundant and good and Iâ€™m in tune and whatever part of me isnâ€™t is getting tuned up fast. This is good, all good. I like knowing my options and getting to choose, and I love that the Gods are doing this now for me. Having a menu to pick from, one with pictures, really does give me comfort and make me feel loved, and if thereâ€™s a nice surprise thrown in there, thatâ€™s good, too.
But sitting behind that steering wheel, I get lost in a memory of a rather upsetting Â conversation Â with an acquaintance.
It was one of those memories Â that really Â stung because it came at a time when I was hurting and the last thing I needed Â was a bout with clairvoyant Â cruelty. She was Â one Â of Â those Â acquaintances Â who often Â delivered â€œadviceâ€ and though others reported to me that she was quite accurate as a psychic, to date, not one of her many prognostications from that night has materialized for me. Not one. But at the time, she was just another acquaintance with psychic abilities and some common interests in quantum physics and weâ€™d talk about those common interests whenever we saw one another.
On this particular time when I felt wounded, I was already in a tailspin, dealing with a leaky Home Depot roof, ill parents, unexpected Â book deadlines, the works.
My emotions Â were just under the surface Â and ready to spill over at the least provocation. She asked if I wanted to talk and I did. She asked Â what Â my intuition told me was coming up in the near future, and I told her.
Somewhere in there, I added that I just wished I had a clue which path to take and if only I knew a little of what was ahead, I could make better choices. This would be a change in career, a change in lifestyle, a change in everything. I really wished I knew where I was going.
She criticized my worry and my need-to-know. Â Told me I was insulting the Gods by worrying and by wanting to know things that were Theirs to decide and not mine. As if I wasnâ€™t already just barely holding it together that night, now I felt like dirt.
Then she asked more about my dream for a healing center and Â center of learning-my Â vision of a Center Â of Light. She asked detailed questions. I told her everything I felt coming. I told her I couldnâ€™t help but want to know if I was on the right path and which way the road curved ahead so I could make the best decisions. I was having a particularly Â difficult Â time Â that Â night Â and Â really Â needed some emotional support.
Then she got really quiet. â€œI know where youâ€™re going,â€ she said.
Suddenly, I was relieved. Help, at last! I could finally pull out of Â this spin and collect my nerves and make a get-well plan. I was feeling better already.
â€œWhere?â€ I asked. â€œWhat am I going to be doing?â€
â€œYouâ€™ll have Â several Â choices. Â At least three choices. But I know which one youâ€™re going to pick.â€
â€œOkay, where do you see me?â€
Silence. Then, â€œI wonâ€™t say.â€
â€œI know which one youâ€™ll choose and why, but Iâ€™m not going to tell you. You could pick any of the three or more choices and be just fine, but-oh, Iâ€™d love to see the look on your face when you find out which one itâ€™s going to be!â€
I was Â sitting Â there Â with Â my Â mouth Â open Â while Â she continued to preen about what she knew about my future. I knew then how the puppy feels when kids hold a treat just out of his reach and admire it and caress it and let him see that itâ€™s theirs, not his, before laughingly allowing him to snatch it out of their hands and enjoy it.
â€œWhat are some of my choices?â€Â I asked. Iâ€™d already told her several possibilities I was trying to choose from. â€œHmmm. Not telling. I donâ€™t want to influence you.â€ â€œYou wonâ€™t Â influence Â me. Â Iâ€™m Â not Â going Â to pick Â a place just because you say so. Iâ€™m going to go with my own intuition about it. Free will, right?â€
â€œYeah, but I donâ€™t want to say. You might pick it be- cause of what I tell you about it. But the one you pick is going to be really good, Â so you want to pick the right one.â€
Talk about transparent dangling carrots!
Then she explained that sometimes, when you know the future, things donâ€™t unfold the way theyâ€™re supposed to. She said that predictions rob you of choices, and to an extent I agree. If all you rely on to live your life is some- oneâ€™s predictions, yes, you lose other opportunities. Â But thereâ€™s still intuition and choice and free will.
I donâ€™t have to know when I leave for the office if itâ€™s going to rain, but I do like to know the weather predictions for the day. If thereâ€™s a hurricane coming ashore in the evening, I like to know that itâ€™s likely or not so I can have time to batten down the hatches. If the weatherman predicts scattered Â thunderstorms, Â I have Â the Â optionÂ of taking an umbrella with me, whether or not I choose to use it. If I donâ€™t hear a prediction on TV or on the radio, okay, fine. I can look at the sky that morning and get an inkling of whether a storm is coming. And even with the finest of umbrellas, I may at the spur of the moment decide anyway to Â kick off my shoes and run through the torrents. Iâ€™ve been known to do Â that a time or two before!
But Â none Â of Â my Â rationale Â fazed Â the Â woman Â who claimed to know my future and was possibly the only per- son who could have consoled me that night, without talk of the future or any of her head games. Instead, she spent the next few minutes introducing me to all sorts of other possibilities for Â my future-hurtfulÂ possibilities-which preyed on all my fears. And gleefullyÂ refusing to tell me the one thing she said was good.
I was Â frazzled Â and overly Â emotional Â that Â night Â and searching for anything to give me a sense of solid ground. Itâ€™s taken the passage of time to see that none of the hurtful possibilities she conjured Â up have come to pass and that Â she Â couldnâ€™t Â possibly Â have Â known Â which road Â Iâ€™d take because that futureâ€™s still being set. Thatâ€™s the cool part. Â See, Â the Gods understand that I want a say in my future, and theyâ€™re letting me pick. It doesnâ€™t matter what great choices this person or that might predict for me or why, I still get to choose.
Itâ€™s like the weather. Â I still get to decide if I want to get wet-or whether Iâ€™ll just stay in bed and snooze. If I donâ€™t want to get wet, then Iâ€™ll do something about it. If thereâ€™s Â a Â 100% Â chance Â of Â rain and Â Iâ€™m Â feeling Â frisky, maybe Iâ€™ll wear something see-through and plunge head- long into the downpour. My choice. But thereâ€™s no point in a weatherman being intentionally cruel.
As I sat in traffic yesterday, I found myself angry at the memory of that night. It would have been so simple for her not to have said one damned gloating word about the future than to play with my emotions and feel superior. Â I Â found Â my Â fists Â tightening Â around Â the Â steering wheel.
The traffic finally started to move in front of me, but the trailer and equipment Â still blocked my view. I kept wishing I could see the next step in my lifeâ€™s journey.
Then the road ahead dipped into a little valley, and the trailer made its descent ahead of me as the road ahead of the trailer came into view above the cab of its truck. It was almost like a ray of sunlight spotlighting the distant, open road through the clouds.
And then the thought just popped into my head: â€œTo see your path, look beyond the obstacles.â€