What My Palm Said About Me

When we finally arrived in Key West, our first stop was the famous Duval Street.  After downing a quick beer and some conch chowder, we decided to do some shopping.  Within the first block or two, I spied a palm reader who was sitting idly in an open air booth, reading a newspaper.  He was adorned in a long linen robe.  His dark hair, sprinkled with gray, fell about his shoulders.  He looked to be from India. Of course, I had to stop.

Palm Readers have always fascinated me.  So much so that my novel opens with a scene very similar to what I was about to experience.  I laid three tens and a five on the table in front of him which he swiftly gathered and hid from my sight.  He cupped my hands in his, examining the backs and then the front as if it all mattered to what he was about to say.  His voice was soft and melodious.  It was laden with a heavy accent from Asia.  Knowing it might be difficult to understand, I leaned in and focused.  I wanted to capture every word of is wisdom.

The first words he used to describe me were controlling and strong-willed.  Although both adjectives appear to be true, especially if you ask my husband, neither was what I wanted to hear.  He redeemed himself quickly when he said I have a giving heart and would do most anything to help others.  This is true also.

When he started to talk about my health, he touched a nerve.  In addition to a sensitive digestive tract,  he said my liver was damaged.  The news was not shocking due to contracting Hepatitis A in my twenties.  My digestion has sucked since I was a child.  Four years ago I was diagnosed as gluten intolerant and  was told to cut out foods that contained dairy or grains.  Interestingly enough, I have given up drinking hard alcohol and/or wine.  It makes me sick.  What was really baffling was how he could tell all of this from my palms.

To heal my poor organ, he advised I ingest a juice diet of one carrot, one apple and one beet for a month.  I guess he didn’t consider milk thistle which is supposed to do the same thing.  If I could clean up this mess, he did not see me dying before my late eighties.  That gives me thirty more years.  What a relief.  No drowning he said, thank goodness.  No accidents, a relief since my dad died in a car wreck at aged 59.  Not even an early heart attack which has always been my go-to way to die if I got my choice.

Overall, I was glad I spent the money.  It gave my that extra needed strength to give up alcohol all together.  It has been nagging at me for a few years now to quit and I am finally here.  It’s not that I had a problem with the stuff.  Yet more the issue is that it interferes with my body’s vibration.  It is harder for me to stay tuned in to universal consciousness.  And really, my goal these days is to stay tuned in twenty-four/seven.  It is the only way to go.