The Psychic's Farewell

I was only ten years old when my mother took me to a psychic. I trusted her and the psychic. The psychic's home looked like the home of the Buddhist priestess at my mom's temple. I often played in the priestess' house and painted watercolor flowers on rice paper while my mom chanted inside the temple in the other building.

So when my mother brought me to the psychic's house, I didn't think anything of it. Just another religious holy person whom we were visiting. Perhaps my mother was seeking spiritual guidance.

Unbeknownst to me, my mother had scheduled the day for me. She wanted me dissuaded from pursuing a life in the performing arts. Despite my ambition for FINE performing arts, it wasn't good enough for my mother.

The psychic was a thirty-something-old Chinese man. He sat stoically on his bamboo mat of what was probably his shrine to Buddha. The incense was burning. I sat solemnly as he read my palm.

"You were born and surprised everyone when you came out a girl," the psychic explained to me.

I raised my eyebrows, curiosity piqued.

"You have the aggression of a boy," he continued. I now realize that even though I identify as a cis-straight woman, he was referring to my masculine energy. Which is fine. Lots of feminine women have masculine energy. It has nothing to do with looks.

"You always want to fight," the psychic further explains.

All of these things didn't feel untrue.

"Now," he began. "You should not become a dancer."

My heart sank.

"If you do, you will be poor all your life and die alone," he said. I felt like he was cursing me. "Become a doctor and you will have three children, be rich, and live a long life."

Ha! The typical Asian thing to do.

Years pass. I become a dancer. Not in a ballet as I had thought, but a professional Belly Dancer and Hula Dancer. I did not become rich but I did have three children. If I die alone, it won't be because of the psychic's premonition. It is because we all die alone. No one can do it with us.

No matter what my path in life is, as I also am many other things besides a dancer, we must follow it with our choices. If I had given up my dream of dance, I'd always wonder. I know this because I've given up lots of dreams before and I wonder all the time. Regrets are not all or nothing. Don't give up parts of yourself no matter the scare tactics that others push onto you.

I no longer pursue dance as a career. Time changes how long a person can dance professionally. But was I poor? That's relative. When you are an artist you take on other careers to support your passion. I worked as an administrative office worker, a marketing manager, a dog walker, and a gymnastics teacher. Perhaps by becoming a dancer, I got to experience many vocations. It's a blessing and I won't regret it when I die.

In fact, if it wasn't for dance, I'd never have gone aboard the Amara Zee. The Amara Zee, the Thames River Barge replica, the tall ship, the sea vessel, the dream of all artists who come across the tale of the Caravan Stage. The Caravan Stage is dubbed the Cirque du Soleil of the ocean.

We sailed up the Intracoastal Waterway, the Chesapeake Bay, the Erie Canal, the Hudson River, and the Great Lakes down to the Gulf of Mexico. I was a sailor who danced on the deck of a tall ship, performing for audiences on the shore. The lights clamped on the dock as well as the wires across the masts of the ship.

There were many other wonderful dance experiences, all unique and unusual. There was the Georgian company and their specialized dance and theater style. There were several small mom-and-pop dance Hawaiian Hula entertainment companies. There was a company that performed dances from cultures that existed along the Silk Road trading route. I learned so much about folk dances from Central Asia, the Middle East, and Africa.

Thinking back, I most definitely was not poor. These opportunities that I experienced were rare and singular. My soul was enriched. The psychic was wrong.

And my children are definitely treasures. Treasures that I never knew I could have. It wasn't just that dancing was not a stable career. My whole life was never stable before I had my own children.

I remember thinking one time, early on in the tour season of the Caravan Stage's performance of The Red Tide, out at night on a sail. I was at the helm of the ship and sailing in the middle of the ocean somewhere. Miles and miles of water surrounded us.

I thought to myself, eighteen people on this ship were depending on me for their lives. I had to do this. There wasn't a choice about succeeding. We needed to sail through the waters. I was so scared and empowered at the same time.

And years later, I find myself in unknown waters again. Last year, I was given a cancer diagnosis. I just went in for a routine mammogram. What in the world?

It wasn't comforting to know that breast cancer was one of the most survivable cancers. The only breast cancer patients I ever knew died. People kept saying it was no big deal. But it was because I was getting a full mastectomy. Nothing would be the same. A friend of mine said, "We don't have a choice. We're surviving everything." She was referring to our kids. It was mandatory for us to survive life. That's what she meant.

There's a lot to unpack with cancer. Just because you will doesn't make it happen. So many people die from cancer, it's not a matter of willpower. I had two kids for sixteen years until my last baby. He was our rainbow baby. The risk when you're an older mom is a higher rate of miscarriage amongst other issues.

I was 44 years old when I gave birth to Tenzin at home. The labor was only one and a half hours long! There was no pain medication. But at one point towards the end, I felt a peace come over me. The baby's heart rate dropped low. It went low and fast. I don't remember the number, but I made peace with myself. If the baby wasn't going to make it or if I wasn't going to make it, I'd have to just let go. That's when the baby came and he was fine. He was alive and ready to be loved.

Two years later, I'm facing cancer surgery. I just met my baby boy. I wasn't going to leave him. I couldn't. Two years is nothing in the scheme of life. If I die now, he won't even remember me. I was so scared before the surgery, but friends, and people I hadn't talked to in years reached out.

I survived that. And life is the reward. So, yes, you can be rich without money. Did I want money? Sure, but life itself is still a journey that you don't take for granted no matter what type of life it is. I hope my mom paid that psychic well for saying that to me. I bet he didn't even think twice about it. What if I had listened to him?

Everything I did and experienced was a trajectory to now. And I wouldn't trade any of it.