The card looked weary and miserable from years of use and misuse. It was dog-eared and crumbling at the edges, and its once-vibrant colors were fading: the fiery red now looking like a dying ember, the lush green reduced to traces of moss in the sunlight.
I was a child back then, having just turned eight. I had just discovered my first tarot card, the lone survivor from a deck that my grandmother owned. She had to burn the cards when she became a Christian. Little did I know that the discovery would start my long fascination with the mysterious—sometimes occult—veil that separates us from the future, and the dubious ways with which humans draw this veil aside, in order to take a peek.
Perhaps nothing makes humans more sentimental than the advent of a new year. We can’t help but be introspective, to see how far we’ve come—or not.
But a new year also makes humans think about the future. If the past is now a beaten, well-traveled past, the future is an open sea—its depths and distance unknown, at once inviting and altogether menacing. At some point in our lives, the future stops being a point in time, a verb tense in grammar, or a series of events that are yet to transpire. Chuck Palahniuk, in his book “Invisible Monsters,” said, “When did the future switch from being a promise to being a threat?”
Anxiety or fear over what lies ahead can be verified by the astrology industry with its revenues of $2 billion and growing clientele. Fortune-telling has long ceased to be the domain of gypsies wearing shawls and charms; it has now donned the cloak of corporate finance and marketing.
Out of curiosity, I checked. As it turns out, I will be starting well this year when Saturn moves from Scorpio to Sagittarius, leaving my house of wealth and family to promising avenues. My passions will rise because of a Venus-Mars conjunction. This year will also be significant for me due to Venus in retrograde, which apparently happens only once in two years.
Also, if you reduce the year 2017 into a single digit by adding all the digits, the result is the number 1. In numerology, the number 1 signifies new beginnings, creation, and independence. It encourages people to step out of their comfort zones, express their uniqueness, and carve their own individual paths. That’s because 1 looks like a number standing in pride.
That’s not all. In Chinese astrology, 2017 is the Year of the Red Fire Rooster. Apparently, you cannot wear the color red as it brings ill luck. Brown and yellow, which complement fire, are much more favorable. Those born in Rooster years are known for their efficiency and integrity, which means hard work will be well-rewarded this year. Because it is also a Yin year, it is a time for solitude with friends and family. Wearing purple and lavender will bring good luck.
How auspicious this may all seem—the future based on the positions of the planets, the vibes of an Arabic numeral, or the habits of an animal on the charts. But whether you see this as science or superstition, astrology is just one of the many ways humanity adopts to cope with the uncertainty of the future. It is also why we embrace “expert opinions” on trends, dogmas in religion, or the ubiquity of destiny. For the future is a vast frontier and the world is a cage from where we can watch it unravel.
Some say we create our own future and that it belongs to those who dare to own it. It’s as if the future were a creature that can be tamed and trained. But we have also become witnesses to how it can turn rabid on us, haven’t we?
How I wish my grandmother still had her tarot cards. Perhaps she could tell me whether I’d earn my MBA this year, find true love, or win the lottery. But Lola knew better. To stay transfixed and rooted on the uncertainties of the future will leave you helpless one moment and restless the next. By magnifying the future, we eclipse the present. And by fearing it, we move in reverse instead.
The future is no laughing matter. But if taken too seriously, it can make us move backward, toward the rear. As if the earth were in retrograde. That is not lucky.
michael.baylosis@gmail.com