Tuesday, 13 November 2012

What a coincedence!

I don't know that I'm a big believer in fate. Nor do I entirely believe you make your own luck. Some people seem to have more than their fair share of suffering, while others by comparison seem to be born lucky. I read an article recently which claimed people who open themselves up to chance encounters increase their chances of good things happening. Which I suppose makes sense, but surely that also opens you up to the likelihood of bad things happening too? Anyhoo. No matter what you believe, there are some things that happen in life that make you go a bit *brrrrrrr*. Take today for example. I was merrily cleaning out the cat trays (actually, merrily is probably the wrong choice of word when describing scraping cat crap into the bin) and all the time I had Alicia Keys new song 'Girl on fire' in my head. I was still singing it when I got into the car to go to the gym, and as I turned the key in the ignition the radio came on - with Alicia Keys new song! There I sat, momentarily paralysed by the thought that I may have developed magical powers overnight.

It's not the first time weirdy things have happened to me (which I'm sure comes as no surprise to my friends!), and having spoken to other people I am convinced this phenomena is quite widespread. When I lived with my parents I frequently used to get the feeling the phone would ring, and it did. This ability seemed to stay at that house though as I've not experienced it since. There were also  several instances where I lost something that I desperately needed to find (homework, credit card, a toddler) and out comes the failsafe prayer - 'Dear God, if you help me find my homework/credit card/toddler I promise I'll never swear again/ stop bringing animals home' - that sort of thing. And it worked, moments later the lost item would surface as if by magic. Don't get me wrong, I'm not claiming to be psychic or anything or saying that there's some sort of divine intervention helping me; I once thought my hamster was hibernating so left it by the gas fire to warm him up and hopefully revive him. But no, he was just dead. Nearly singed, and dead. 

I watched a documentary a few years ago about a psychic who was undoubtedly very good; at reading minds or Googling people to find out when their Aunty Beryl died, I'm not sure, but he was very convincing. And what was even more convincing was that he didn't charge through the nose to sit in someone's house throwing names and places around hoping to hit the nail on the head. He did it all for free, and made his money writing books on his 'psychic experiences'. I believe that 99.9% of so called psychics are nothing more than money grabbing opportunists, who use peoples grief and desire to obtain some comfort to their own advantage. The vast majority of people who want the services of psychics are bereaved, and there are countless ways of finding clues as to who and when - the internet, photos around the house, body language and verbal clues. The experts know what they're looking for and how to find it. And they know that the person sat in front of them, wringing their hands with hope all over their face, either believes what they're saying, or wants to, which is just as effective. I guess if it gives the bereaved peace of mind, then there is a silver lining, but it's the taking money under false pretences that gets me.

So suffice it to say, despite my obvious abilities and links to the psychic world, I'll not be setting myself up as 'Mystic Bobs' anytime soon. Because although I could tell you when your phone's going to ring and what song will be on the radio when you get in the car, there is so much still to learn. I'll not be satisfied until I've honed my 'predicting hamster deaths' abilities. Watch this space.

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