My Hand Said

When I was 21, I dabbled a bit in palm reading. The lines intrigued me and I was convinced they were put there by God for a purpose. A sort of guide, a map to our lives and future if we choose to follow it. And like a landscape, they change over time in concert with various events in our lives.

At that point in my life, I was just out of the local university, working as an administrator at a child care centre. It was supposed to be a 3 month temporary stint which stretched to a year. I took that time to figure out what I wanted to do. And the idea of being able to peep into what lay in store for me was fascinating.

I borrowed a couple of books and read up on the subject. I even got my boss (he reads palms and practices numerology) to take a look. I discovered certain truths about myself. My heart line indicated that I am an emotional person and that I would be devoted to my partner. My life line showed up some health problems which were on the other hand supported by other lines which would ultimately help me out. My mental or head line pointed to creativity and there were signs of confusion and trouble.

I was disturbed by that last one. It had uncomfortably hit the mark. I was a clueless, fresh arts and social sciences graduate without a clue what to do with her life or to be terminology-precise, career. When I chose the subjects I read at university, it was more for the purpose of interest. I had told myself when I was a kid that if I did get to university, I would be reading Psychology, Sociology and Malay Studies. (Actually my dream was to do archaeology – I had a thing for Indiana Jones, but NUS didn’t offer it) I dropped Psychology second year because I was terrible at statistics which was compulsory. I declined reading Sociology as a single major because I did not want to limit myself. At the end of three years, I graduated decently enough.

Horribly worried, I set out to do a bit of self-exploration. (What I thought was self-exploration then). I was somewhat resistant to teaching. Don’t get me wrong, I have no problems with the profession. They are the shapers of our future generation and there have been a few teachers in my own past who have inspired me to be a better person. (And a select few who made my life miserable) Though alright I admit, I did cop out and sent in an application for either the position of an education officer or school administrator. (There, I did give myself an alternative choice)

The stronger calling for me at that point was to be in social services. I applied for the job of Welfare Officer at a Family Service Centre and was offered it relatively quick. My tertiary education was funded by a self-help organisation and I felt a duty to offer my services back to the community. After two years, I left and worked as an Administration Manager at a school. The workload was hell but I enjoyed it. My friends called me a workaholic.

Then I came to a sudden realisation. I did not want my life to be endless work: bringing work home, going in on Sundays, no time for my nephews and niece and my Mum. I did not believe in a so-called career: climbing the corporate ladder, being graded for the work you do, mocking the intrinsic value of it. So I took myself out of the game. I pottered along for a while. I was a friend’s Personal Assistant for a short period of time. (Sorry Suz that it didn’t work out!)

Then, I really took stock of my life and what I wanted it to be. I wanted a simple life, where I can focus on my health, allowing spiritual growth, dedicated to learning and developing my creative spirit, working on my own time and choice. I realised I need not have a career in the universal sense of the word. I chose to make my own definition, combined jobs that give me enough to subsist but give me room to lead a more integrated and purposeful life.

That is in itself a huge work in progress and I do stumble along the way, scraping a knee or two.

My dicky (dictionary in short - what were you thinking?) states that to be confused is to be disordered or mixed-up.

I am then, to bring back to the topic of palmistry, confused (perhaps in the eyes of others) but I would call it a sort of conscious and intentioned confusion. And I wouldn’t want it to be anything less.