Lately I've come across all manner of magical thinking. From the Psychology student who believes that everything happens for a reason, to the woman who believes what the local medium tells her. For this dubious pleasure she pays £30.00.
I've been amongst people who agree that "there's something to astrology." When I protest they say it's because I'm Virgo.
Just yesterday I said "don't be so bloody daft", to someone studying homeopathy. I made them a coffee by repeatedly diluting a cup full until it was nothing more than hot water. Actually, I just poured them a cup of water from the kettle.
Water with memory, for Pete's sake. I said, "At some point, your coffee could have been dishwater, bathwater, piss or spittle. Do you think it remembers that too?"
Right now there's an advert running on the TV espousing the magical properties of crystals. For £6.99 each week, you can buy the magazine and learn how to harness their powerful healing properties. Over 30 weeks, you will build the ultimate collection of real, beautiful crystals. Not bad for £209.70, eh? Eh?
All of this makes me cross. Not just because it's the stuff of nonsense, but that believing it implies an apathy to life.
If everything happens for a reason, then you have no control over your destiny. Once absolved of this responsibility, one needn't worry ever again about making the right choice or doing the right thing.
If our destinies are written into the stars, then we are as helpless as any cosmic karma follower. How I slept well in my bed, once I knew Reagan consulted his astrologer before making decisions of international significance.
Why bother seeking the support and advice of good friends, sharing your worries and concerns, when a magic lady can give you all the answers you need for thirty quid?
God may well be dead, but it seems there's no shortage of magic left in the world. Meh.