The Oracles of Delphi

Everything’s been different ever since I lost sight of my north star, exit sign, firefly, or whatever label you’ve bookmarked for that thing. 

Last I checked, it was flickering in the distance as if to warn me to hurry up. I keep trying to walk a straight line though, hoping I don’t wobble before it starts giving out hand-me-down guidance again. It feels like I’ve been on one of those multi-task treadmills ever since it closed shop, hellbent on getting to the end of a tunnel that’s no longer there.

You never really pay attention to the stuff that’s always been there, you just get used to its convenience, to the fact that it’s always there doing whatever it does best, allowing you to not worry about one more thing on your list of exuberant responsibilities. The second it decides it wants nothing to do with you, you’re thrown into limbo, and this itch hurries into existence and takes over your whole body, instantly urging you to forsake any sort of clarity you’re sheltering inside your head and give in to frail obsessions and addictions. 

Regardless of what’s being thrown at you when you’re on your knees, you’ve always got a clenched fist around your bruised dignity; but what’s that going to do for you?
What’s shackled dignity in the face of a sense of direction of divine guidance. I’ve always found myself at the mercy of my indecisiveness, but that stuff gets tossed out the window when shit hits the fan. I wish my whole life was a ‘shit hits the fan’ sequence, maybe then I’d know what to do all the time. Don’t be fooled though, your mind isn’t always your right hand man; he’s already scheming behind a multi-lock door, giving you the impression that you’ve got a handle over your next ‘move’, and just when you’re about to take that next step, he pulls the rug from under your feet and raises his hands up like he’s on the same victim boat as you. All he has to show for it is a grin from ear to ear and a look of disappointment. Like that look your mom gives you isn’t enough, your mind needs to pull the same shit on you. 

When your mind fails you at your most vulnerable, you start outsourcing these tasks to more capable hands, the oracles of the modern world, women. God’s blessed me with a grandmother, mother, and sister who have always gone above and beyond when it comes to curing ailments of the heart; but this situation couldn’t be handled in their well-equipped infirmaries. Every conversation we’d have would end up with them drawing up a makeshift roadmap with an overly-ambitious final destination, or worse, the whole thing would be filled with ambiguous twists and turns, and lucky for me, they’d have all the road signs scribbled out of existence just so I use my own wits to find my own way. 

The oracle of Delphi was known for her prophecies and her ability to navigate and pull the various political strings of the Greek states. She was a priestess who was tripping on hallucinogenics, trying to tell every head of state, king, or distinguished individual that they were the protagonist of their own narratives. Superstitions ran rampant around 8th century BC, and I don’t blame anyone for seeking an audience with the high priestess, I’d probably sell my limbs for a few seconds with her, and even if she gave me a bag of pebbles and told me to look through them for a chance to see a glimpse of my future, I’d eat up every word; not for the ‘prophecy’ itself, but for the sense of clarity and calmness she’d empower me with.  

The women in my life weren’t divine, they weren’t imbued with any supernatural powers that allowed them to take a quick peek into my future. They had something better; perspective. 

Going beyond the women who were related to me by blood, when they failed me, I’d tell my story to any woman who had ears to listen and knew my full name. That’s when I realized I wasn’t looking for a prophecy synonymous with my way forward. I was looking for women to listen to my sob story and tell me not to change course; I hated the fact that my mother, sister, grandmother, and every girl I knew kept telling to forge a new path forward without my north star. Even with more than 20 prophecies at my feet, I was still looking for a prophecy that perfectly aligned with what I wanted. In my head, God had no business with what I wanted, neither did my family and friends. 

There’ll come a time when I’ll lend another ear to the many oracles of Delphi I’ve met over the years, and I know for certain that they won’t be foretelling my ‘destiny’ the way I see it, but rather, the way they see it, and maybe that’s for the better. I admit, I’m too stubborn to pick my head up and look at what’s in front of me when I’m sure of the road ahead. 

The north star doesn’t always shine true. 

Thank you, oracles.