“A Glimpse Beyond the Veil.”

Let me tell you guys a story, a happier one than I so often end up telling. Something that happened to me on Christmas day last year (so thus almost a year ago now), something I want to record in as many places as I can find it, because I feel it was an important event, a gift from the gods, a kick in the ass down that right path we all sometimes need.

Or perhaps it would be more helpful to begin a little further back, to an earlier event that pointed me in the direction of that right path, without which the later, more important event would likely not have happened. A rather simple thing, the room mate and I had some excess money, there were parts of the state we had not yet seen (namely all of it), and so we took a vacation to the coast.

I have noticed by now, as I go through my old writings looking for answers and trying to make sense, that I bring up the less than stellar parts of my existence way, way too fucking often; you could make a fun drinking game out of all the different ways, say, my abusive childhood comes up in posts, and play it with someone you don’t wish to survive the night. Having noticed that, finally, I don’t want to keep doing it (acknowledgement yes, but we have gone well beyond that, obsession where it is the framework that defines, and thus owns, your whole life), and yet I feel it’s important to step back into it just a little, in order to properly set the stage. I’ve previously called the city a psychic drain, and so it was – not the actual location, though my lungs never quite adjusted to it it was a gorgeous place, it was the people and the local culture they’d built that killed it for me. I’d been living there a number of years, by that point I was mostly in a constant deep depressive state, with occasional short lived outbursts of frustration that could be likened to throwing myself against the prison bars some part of me knew were there, trying to escape. Not all of it can be put on the city (depression has always been a frequent visitor, and I have always, even under the best of circumstances, struggled with leaving the house, being willing to speak to people), but it was its own problem that was making matters worse than it may otherwise have been, and I don’t think I fully understood that, until the vacation where I had something to contrast it with.

Being there, even for a short time, was like being able to breathe again. All of the issues that had been crippling me for years (the numb depression, the hermiting away) were not in play, or not to the severe level I’d grown used to. It was everything great about living in that state and nothing that I’d come to hate (as far as people and local culture went, might as well have been a different country). I absolutely loved it there, and I’m very glad we had the money to visit two more times before departing forever. If anything could lure me back in that direction, it would be the coastal towns; I was quite tempted to try settling in there, but it was very rural and rural is not always easy to do when you do not drive.

(As it is, I’ve been able to move somewhere where I have even easier access to the coast, leading to more frequent visits as I can go just for the day, and I’m in a major city that is very friendly to my car free lifestyle. I’d say it worked out well)

Midway through that vacation, I remember sitting on a swing set on the beach and watching the waves, suddenly turning to my room mate and saying, “I don’t want to live here anymore.” It was a weighted moment; it shouldn’t have been but it was. It was no secret I was unhappy, no secret I’d grown to hate it there, I was pretty vocal about it when talking to family; maybe I’d just gotten so hopeless over time, it never occurred to me I could leave, that it could help.

I’d still be there about another year and a half, but that remaining time was different, everything was different after that. Because now there was a plan, I was going to leave, I didn’t know when but it was going to happen, there was a goal to work toward. Not just the leaving, but starting to pull my life back together, so that when I finally did get to go I would be ready for it, prepared to make the very best of the new opportunity, to leave as much of the baggage behind as I could. Much of that involved fixing my health, losing all the weight I’d never noticed I was putting on, adjusting diet and habits so it would not happen again (and yes, motions were made toward the gods as well, after a long time of silence, I was immediately handed a bizarre, unexpected puzzle I’m getting closer to solving – time wasn’t wasted though, I did much of the introspection about old paths, old friends and old ideas in this time, and I really needed to come to that understanding before anything new could be done). I didn’t have those outbursts anymore, the deep depression became more occasional than constant; no one would say I was happy, but I found a way to be content.

And I found a way to leave the house, at least a little more than I had been before, kind of had to for the losing weight thing. Going out at night wasn’t so strenuous, when there was no one around, and through that we found paths that were less populated even during the day. I still tried to avoid downtown where there always seemed to be far too many people in far too small a space – unless I had some reason to think it would be mostly empty, like say because it was a holiday and most such people would be home with their families. Which brings us to Christmas.

So there we were, almost a year ago now, the phone calls home my only real obligation of the day done long ago and leaving us without much to do. It was getting pretty late by the time we decided to take my daily walk outside rather than on the treadmill, and to do something different, walking through downtown to the river and back rather than the winding route into the hills I’d been doing more often. We made it to our destination without anything of note, just enjoying a peaceful winter night, pausing by the water for a bit, before heading back home.

It was on the way back that it happened, a voice calling out to us from the square as we passed by.

“I offer a glimpse from beyond the veil.”

No, really, that’s what he said. It was a man offering tarot readings, for whatever you think they’re worth. It registered as we went past, set in our path and barely pausing to hear the words. The significance of it sunk in quick enough, and when we were two blocks away I’d stopped, I knew we had to go back, that this was something I needed to do, something I needed to hear.

I know he told me his name, but I have since forgotten it. A recently paroled ex-con in a top hat, wool coat and red scarf, he was reading for a couple homeless kids by the time we arrived, and space was made for me to sit up front and watch everything while I waited my turn. He seemed both knowledgeable and charismatic, able to explain the symbolism in detail even to someone who has never seen it before (as the kids ahead of me had not) and make it entertaining. I was impressed.

It may be one of my favorite memories, all the years I spent in that city I don’t think I ever felt more at home there than I did in that single moment, with those particular people. A liminal space set apart from everything around it, while the city bustled on in the background, distant and unimportant; I used to find such times and places a lot, worked on making my whole life one such, and I had missed it.

All the times I’d ever had any oracular work done it was always by someone who knew me, at least in passing; this was the first time I had my cards read by a complete stranger. He did a very good job, so I thought then and even more now, a year later. I remember what the cards were and how they were interpreted, as I’d written it all down as soon as I came home; I won’t go over every card, every word, a general idea will do. He told me I knew exactly what I want, I have everything I need to get it (and they were lofty ambitions he saw, that’s how he put it – not by mainstream society’s standards, that’s for sure, but in the single sphere I care about and have interest in, I suppose it could be seen that way), and it’s only a monumentally messed up mental process that gets in my way. I’d begun understanding that then but he put it in very simple terms – fix that shit, stop listening to it, and you can accomplish whatever you want. And this upcoming year would be about new beginnings, on more than one front, the right time, the right energy, it was all lining up; if I wanted to start something, or start over, now is the time and it will go well (provided I heed those aforementioned warnings).

It was good to hear at the time, I had been starting to feel disheartened. We’d tried a year to get a solid answer from her office about the possibility of a transfer, and they kept putting it off in a way that, while not offering anything definite, did keep hope alive. Conversation and plans started turning to going anyway, and how much extra would have to be saved in order to live while looking for a new job. Even though we were both still determined to go, the amount of time we’d have to wait and plan and save money started to stretch out before us until no end appeared in sight.

Not to say I connected any of that to the reading, to the promising year of new beginnings that had been laid out for me. It was about two weeks later, not long after the new year, when she was laid off.

That changed everything. I don’t even remember feeling panicked about it, I knew what it was, the door opening. The divination I did the same day, just to confirm, well, it was more or less the tarot equivalent of Hermes screaming in my ear, just go already! We knew where we wanted to live and we had enough money to leave; everything fell into place, an apartment was secured fairly quickly, and on the last week in February, we were gone.

And now here I am, at the end of a very productive year.

If I was still living there, or anywhere near by, I think I’d be wandering around downtown about now, hoping to run into him again. This last year was such a whirlwind, in the best way possible, I’d be curious to know what’s coming around the corner next, and how I can best take advantage of it. Unfortunately, even if I were still there, I doubt I’d find him again, however hard I looked, and I doubt I’ll find anything similar here, now. I think that was a special once in a lifetime sort of thing.

Just thought I’d share that with all of you, so I don’t forget it, what can happen when the gods want to get their point across.

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