Last weekend I visited a local metaphysical shop, which I love, for a million and one reasons.
There happened to be a fair of some sort happening for the Halloween celebration. Super talented folks were waiting to tell fortunes, communicate with the dead, braid your hair, offer chair massages, and among other things, read your tarot cards.
All kinds of healers and spiritually blessed, talented folks. Just a list of people willing to assist you with whatever you need for a meager cash fee.
I opted for the tarot card reading, hoping for fun but not expecting too much.
I was not disappointed.
Well I was maybe a little. I was hoping for winning lottery numbers or the reader to go into a trance so my deceased loved ones could send me a message. Didn’t happen. Maybe next time.
I asked about my career for the theme of my reading. Seemed harmless enough.
He shuffled the cards and before putting them down asked me who “David” was. I don’t know any Dave or David or Davie or anything of the sort.
I started to get nervous. Maybe this guy is crazy.
Probably was crazy.
He spread the cards in a traditional pattern and pretty much told me exactly what I already knew. This was great, life is good. career good.
So that was quick.
He then asked if I had other questions.
We talked about my wife.
We talked about money.
We talked about how my wife spends all our money.
We laughed. (she didn’t laugh when I told her about it)
We talked about how I have a creative thing I should be doing in life that I don’t devote enough time to.
To be fair we all have a thing … but I really do have something I am aware that I put aside when I get busy and I wish I had more time to devote to.
You guessed it. This blog.
I do enjoy writing for fun but have zero time for it.
He said that eventually I would do this “thing I create” for a living. That it would make me more money and give me more success than my real job.
We shall see.
It was nearing the end of my time and he asked if I had any other questions.
I asked who this David was. He said I didn’t yet know him but in time this gentleman would be the bridge to making what I create my actual job. That I should be making this “creative thing” with my hands now and building the blocks to bridge later.
Maybe he meant something else entirely. Considering I am not an artist, musician or afghan knitter, this is all I have.
So … David.
Or whatever you prefer I call you, if you are reading and think you can make my worthless talent an actual thing … give me a call.
Or Facebook me.
Or whatever successful creative bridge builder types do.
In the meantime I will be over here writing for fun.
When I can. Cause I still need a real job.
Hoping for my big break.
A big paycheck.
Or something like that.
Call me, Dave. I will be waiting.