Gas Station Magic

"Low Fuel"...story of my life. There are two types of people in the world, those that always have a full tank and those that take it as a challenge when that little light taunts them on their dash. I am a proud member of the latter group. That's how I ended up with a name to my aura and a crystal in my pocket. I pulled up to the pump and was immediately bombarded by the flashing neon sign in the shape of a hand that read Palm Reader. "OPEN" it sang like the daughter of Achelous and there I went, not as brave as Odysseus. I am after all a self proclaimed walking dichotomy--bound by my intense fervor for scientific knowledge and then tugged in the opposite direction by my sometimes stronger than most intuition and soul searching. Following all the rules...don't say too much, no details, don't look her in the eye...I sat and listened to this stranger who felt like a friend give life to these cards, pieces of paper with intricate drawings splayed out in a pattern that made my OCD brain cringe. The math mind in me knew it was a simple formula that would predict the cards selected and even their order. But the second half of my mind told me to just listen. Interesting how a mind, a soul, a person can be so torn in two directions when considering the purpose of a life. Not why we are here, or how did we get here but moreso what the hell do we do now that we ARE here. What do you do when your gut instincts are sounding more and more confused and speaking in murmurs and whispers instead of screaming at the top of their lungs? What happens when your carefully planned life seems to be making its own roadblocks and creating detours that end up in circles? You keep moving, you keep listening, you keep it up, that's all. Pretty basic and devoid of any existential meaning, lacking any trisyllabic words that make the concept more heavy or impactful, that's it, you just keep it up. After about thirty minutes, thirty very quick minutes and two twenty dollar bills, I am now aware that my aura is blue and my soulmate is out there somewhere. Her words were not new, there was no greater understanding of the meaning of life and I certainly have no answers in terms of the best path to take. But one thing was influential, hearing that everyone is coming up roses means a lot when it's from the mouth of a stranger, even if I paid for it. It drowned out the negative nancies that gather in my head like a sip and swap club almost weekly, it replaced the dried out and rotten flowers in that vase I keep meaning to empty and most importantly it reminded me to listen to, well, me. I've made it this far and I have no intention of stopping now, not ever. I am who I am and I rather like me so me I will be. Even if that is a sometimes trite, Dr. Seuss parody with cowboy boots on that enjoys a proseco from time to time. Oh, and a crystal in my pocket!