Hello and welcome to Musing Interruptus. Today we visit the fortune teller. I’m excited. This is going to be fun! Who doesn’t want to find out what the future has in store? By the way, clairvoyants are not to be confused with futurologists. I’m talking about those with the powers to magically see what’s to come, our oracles, and precogs; such interesting people prepared to create a bridge between us and what is in the cards. By the way, this one is for real.
I got the address off from a funky-looking dog, who, as it turns out, was waiting for me on the corner. It was a Sunday, at 6:00 am, I was on a walk, and there he was, a scruffy, down-to-no-good lookin’ dog. He stood in front of me and I felt like some sort of energy traveled from him to me, and I figured there was a hidden note in his collar. I’m just going to chalk it up to one of those things. The crazy part was reading the dog's handwriting. No, I’m kidding. That is obviously not the crazy part.
Sunday morning, 6:00 am, at the corner of Give me Sign and Please Don’t Let Me Be Wrong, the weather was cool, dewy, and darkness was being threatened by light. I decided hope was not lost. I just wanted a peek into the future so I could feel the slightest satisfaction and appease my mind with an iota of confirmation from a trusty source. Something had led me to that corner. This was not fortuitous. That dog was not in my way, that Scruffy Mr. Funny Eyes McGee was waiting for me. Does that mean, the roads I traipse down are part of a more complex configuration? I mean… destiny? Was I destined to meet that dog there? Is that a thing? Is that scruffy dog, that I have now officially named, proof of that? That note was addressed to me. This was probably the most mysterious part so far. Who set this up? I sat on the curb, next to the dog. Paper note in hand. I wondered, why not just message me, send an email, or even, I know this is old school, slip the note under my door. I was looking at a handwritten note, with the address of M. Clair V. That’s cute. This is like when you say you want to buy something out loud and Facebook shows you personalized ads.
So, are we just pawns or whatever chess piece you prefer… they are ultimately being moved. Is that us? What a joke. Then again, I think of the arts as the confirmation destiny does not exist, art is creation and free-will at its finest. My logic seems to be flawless. Go with it.  I’m at another crossroads. I can see two arguments here, at least. Creation confirms there is no destiny and we are indeed endowed with free will. Legit! What follows? The work of oracles, precogs, clairvoyants is further defined as seeing what then? Wouldn’t they be able to see these future works of art and become the artists themselves? Or winning lottery numbers? Avoid catastrophes, … it wouldn’t make sense to have destiny apply to some situations and not others. The system does not have independent parts. So the future isn’t found in the chapters written out in the stars or the contents of Santa’s Naughty and Nice list. If nothing is written and each moment builds to a different reality-- Well, what it means is that anything is possible, therefore anything the precog says they see, is bound to happen or not. And just like that, they are frauds. You won’t get your money’s worth of sound future telling. But the dog.  The dog was there and I was there. I am forgetting to factor this in. The dog had a note for me. Continue Reading

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