Sunday Scribblings: Good
As always, I had fun stretching the creativity. ~GoGo
reach out your hand and look at it. No, I did not ask you to roll your eyes. I asked you to reach out your hand. In no particular direction, just reach it out and look at it. No, not the back part of the hand, the palm part. Yeah, that’s it. Now look at the lines in the palm of the hand.
See those lines running along the palm. When a palm reader looks at the palm she/he sees a road map in those lines.
Oh, sorry, you can put down your hand.
Anyway, those lines are like highways, dirt roads and rivers on a road map. Put together a good palm reader can read your topography of self. Those lines are ever changing and forming into whatever you are changing and forming into. No, seriously. Make a print of your palm, then make another one in 6 months and look at the difference. There will be a difference.
The lines reflect what you have carried with you from your past, and how you are in the present. They do not predict the future, though there are lines that grow as choices weight a destination.
A good palm reader will never try and predict, but simply look at that map and help you navigate that self called you. That’s an important piece. That’s the difference between a reader and a fortune teller. Fortunately for you, your talking to a reader.
Do I believe in palm reading? I don’t know. I suppose since I grew up learning how to do it, I appreciate the endeavor of palm reading. Its entertaining to say the least. At the most, its an interesting tool for those who see it as such. Yeah, that was a good answer, wasn’t it.
What? No. I don’t do palm readings over the internet. No. I’ve never tried to read a picture of palms.
How Many have I read? I believe I am in the hundreds, but never really kept count.
How long have I been reading? I did my first solo reading when I was 7-years-old in the back of the bus with a girl named Andrea. I also kissed a frog in the back of that bus in the same year. My grandfather was not happy...about the reading not the frog kissing.
Oh, it was my grandfather who taught me how to read. Yeah, this was the grandfather who I recently wrote about.
Am I good?
You’d have to ask my clients.
Labels: sunday scribblings