XXI ~ The World
‘Fate is what you’re born with and born into, and loosely corresponds to what people call “privilege.” If you’re born to well off parents who will take the time to educate you well, you’re given a lot more to start off with than a poor kid with uneducated parents and no access to wealth of whatever race.’
~ Rhyd Wildermuth
It had looked so gaudy from the outside, an old fashioned Romani wagon painted a bright green with red trim, aged just so to give it that authentic feel, roses the same red as the trim decorated the sides. With the bright lights and squeals of laughter and booms of enjoyment mingled with the music blaring out from the nearby rides, the shouts of the games masters encouraging those who fancied trying their luck to win the biggest bear for their sweethearts and the aroma of frying onions and the sweeter, more delicate scent of hot sugar and candy floss hanging in the cool night air, it had seemed like a good idea. Now though, sitting on an old but comfy stool with the glow of candles encased in coloured glass lanterns and the low light of a lamp burning in the corner, it felt like a different world. Though it was small inside the wagon, it felt bigger than the outside world she’d just left, quieter than she would have thought possible, more real. A shiver ran down her back and her skin prickled beneath the heavy sweater she wore.
Net curtains covered the window and a counter held trinkets and knick knacks that caught the eye. A framed black and white photo of a young woman in a long flowing dress, looking away from the camera, smiling at some unseen person, a lover perhaps, took pride of place. Jodie liked old photographs, collected them when she could from junk shops and flea markets. They told stories, those old sepia toned pictures, if you took the time to look at them, into them. Of hidden things, of pain, love and sometimes fear.
The reader was older than Jodie had first taken her for. Outside in the dark night with the bright flashing lights, she had seemed younger, a glamour of the fairground, like everything else. Perhaps that was why the fair was a night time pleasure, the harsh light of day showing what it really was, dispelling the magic, the glamour. She sat in the chair opposite Jodie, a table between them, looking at her for what seemed like an eternity without saying a word. She held the cards in her hands and shuffled them with a dexterity that belied her years. Jodie sat awkwardly on the stool, unsure of what to do, if she should speak. Wasn’t the reader supposed to ask what she wanted to know before telling her fortune? Or was that only in films? Her mouth felt dry. She scoured her mind for something to say but the woman spoke first.
‘Fortunes are not real. They’re for paying customers.’ She said, her voice gruff, thick with an accent Jodie couldn’t place, her eyes shining with amusement.
‘I’ve got money.’ She said, feeling her cheeks burn, but the woman simply shook her head and smiled.
‘I’ve been waiting for you.’ Was all she said, before laying three cards face down on the table. Jodie didn’t say a word, what could she say? Sometimes she wished she was stronger, wished she had the courage to stand up and leave. She didn’t want to see what was on the other side of those cards. Why had she come here? Now she was here, she didn’t know what had possessed her and she wanted nothing more than to go, to feel the cool night air on her face and leave the din of the fair behind her. But she didn’t. Instead she sat there and watched as the reader turned over the first card. ‘Fate’ she said and chuckled. The card showed an artist's rendition of a rotting bird corpse, the word ‘death' written along the bottom. The wagon seemed to shrink and darken. Jodie felt hot and sick, wanted to get out and leave this place and this old gypsy woman with eyes the colour of faded denim that looked right into her as though they could see her very soul.
‘Don’t look so alarmed girl, this is fate and the cards aren’t literal. Besides, ‘she added with a grin showing discoloured teeth, ‘it’s the fate we all meet in the end.’
~ The Tarot Collector by Emma Kathryn
The excerpt above comes from an old short story I wrote in the first year of my English degree. I’ve recently started reworking it and I couldn’t help but be reminded of some of the readings I've given over the years. The individual readings melt away and are forgotten, but the people remain. Some want to know their futures, while others seek guidance, answers for the questions that burn. Whatever their reason though, I’ve come to realise there are three types of querent, broadly speaking. The first kind listen intently to the message of the cards, understand when I explain how I read and what the cards mean to me. Others press for further detail, perhaps hoping they’ll get the answers they want, pressing further when they don’t. And then there are others who tell you they can’t do what the cards suggest for whatever reason, it’s just impossible or not feasible for them right now. Don’t get the wrong idea, I’m not shaming anyone nor judging them, these are just some very general observations. I think it’s a personality trait. Some people are more willing to listen, to look beneath the surface and work for what it is they desire. Others get caught up in the minute details of life, looking for the answers they seek, whether they are there to be found or not. And still there are those who justify the negatives, who just cannot see a way past them. Most of us, if we are honest with ourselves, are perhaps a mixture of all three to varying degrees, we are only human after all, but like I said, the story I’ve been working on got me thinking.
‘But fate is not the end of the story. There is this other force, this other pull. Destiny is what you become, despite your fate.’
~Rhyd Wildermuth
I often tell those who come to me for readings, that the tarot does not predict your future nor tell of your fortunes. The future is not something that is set in stone, isn’t some unchangeable burden that we must bear no matter what it holds, good or bad. Instead I see the tarot as guidance. It shows the path beneath your feet, the path you are walking and it lays out the route of that path and, should you decide to continue to walk upon it, the destination. There are many branches of the path and you can choose to diverge should you so wish. Sometimes these other paths aren’t easy. Many times they are overgrown and might seem impassable but they are there nonetheless. Sometimes there are paths yet to be forged and doing so can be hard and lonely work, better to leave it to others, we might tell ourselves. I tell my querents they are on a path to which they have been led by the circumstances and events of their lives, their actions and their choices co-mingled with their fate. I also tell them they can step off that path whenever they so choose, if the destination is not one they want.
Seems almost funny that it’s the same advice I give people now in ‘real life’, as the world seems to be heading towards some inevitable destination, the path set by the actions of those in power. Can we step off this path? So many want to but what else is there, they ask. What can they do, they are but one person. And what is the alternative. Is the devil you know better than the one you don’t? What can we do?
‘The key to transcending your fate and creating a better destiny is will, which is also the key to all magic.’
~ Rhyd Wildermuth
I tell my querents that the path at their feet is sometimes the easy option. It is safe because it is known. The destination might be shit, but still, they know it. It is familiar and safer than the unknown. Some want change and are willing to put in the work. Others ask further, hoping that the cards will reveal that maybe it won’t be too shit. And still others will say they don’t have a choice, that they must walk this path, despite the destination, because they can’t or don’t see any other choice. It’s the same in life. We lurch ever onwards towards a future that is bleak; the destruction of nature; the poor becoming ever poorer; the rich becoming richer. It seems hopeless sometimes. It’s easy to let the bleakness of our current situation take over, to engulf us, to sweep us along. But like I tell my querents, this path at our feet is not the only one.
The last few months and weeks in particular have also given me some hope, even with everything that’s going on. There are so many people out there who do not want to end up at the destination this current path leads to. We are starting to realise we are not just individual islands in a rushing river, soon to be engulfed by the dark, cold waters of Capitalism and all it stands for, but rather we are beacons. Sometimes our lights are dim, but there are more of us than we might think. What we must do is use our will and direct it. We must do those small acts that can sometimes seem pointless in the face of the problems and issues the world contends with right now. The forging of paths is not easy going and so linking up with others is a must. We must shine brightly, even more so in the dark times so that others may see our light and so it might brighten their own. Can we change course and make our futures what we desire? I don’t know, but still we must try.
‘And here’s the thing: revolutionaries who try to change society’s injustices are actually trying to change the fate of entire groups of people, to spin the wheel of fate to give those people a better chance to seek their destiny.'
~Rhyd Wildermuth
EMMA KATHRYN
Emma Kathryn, practises traditional British witchcraft, Vodou and Obeah, a mixture representing her heritage. She lives in the sticks with her family where she reads tarot, practises witchcraft and drink copious amounts of coffee.
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