The Ten of Pentacles and a Series of Coincidences
A tarot reading, a rune card, and repeated meetings with birdwatchers by the sea.
I used to take the 73 bus home from school, when the buses had open backs and narrower seats that faced each other. My nan got stuck on one once - it drove off before she stepped onto the pavement, pulling away and leaving her holding onto the pole at the back, laughing as my grandad and I chased her to the next stop. This was the time that buses had paper tickets, and conductors in uniforms with hats and handheld ticket machines…
“They’ll call that number when your food’s ready - you collect it from down there.”
Snapping out of my momentary haze I look up from the ticket in my hand at the barista and stumble through a thank you as I head back to my table. I had been looking for coincidences after doing a reading with rune cards that told me to do so, and the number 73 had slapped me in the face with a torrent of memories that I hadn’t thought about for a while. Absent-mindedly, I flipped the ticket over, and jumped as I realised the back of the card was a coincidence also, the Ten of Pentacles which I has pulled for my partner in a reading for the full moon. It’s a beautiful card that symbolises building solid foundations, generational security and well-being, abundance and prosperity. In the context it had come up for us, it seemed to suggest good things in the future would come from groundwork we had already lay or are currently laying down, and this felt clarified by it’s reappearance after the runes had told me to look for synchronicities.
“This card reflects permanence and creating a lasting foundation for future success. It is a card of commitment to a sustainable future, taking into consideration not just the short-term gains of a particular venture but also the long-term benefits. A consistent approach will achieve success that will last the test of time.” - Biddy Tarot
I’m currently on holiday with my family, which, just like the illustration on the Ten of Pentacles, means three adults and two dogs. The trip was a gift for my dad’s 60th birthday, mirroring the one to Scotland we did for my mum’s last year. We stayed in this cabin type house, nestled in the forest near Ballachulish, with fast flowing water crashing through the rocks nearby. This place couldn’t be more similar, just in a different location - a cabin in ancient woodland, a tumultuous stream rushing by…I can hear it now, whilst I type, like constant background white noise. It all feels incredibly synchronised, but I was wrong to think the connection finished there.
On New Year’s Eve 2022, I found myself on St. Andrews beach, befriending crows in the icy cold. I was trying to spot an albatross, as I had heard whispers on the wind that you could see them sometimes flying around the cliffs nearby. Not having had much luck, I was scouring the horizon for anything vaguely albatross-like, and came across a group of birds floating in a group way out. I couldn’t work out what they were, and just while I was scowling in contemplation, I overheard three people near me talking about the cluster in question. Noticing they had binoculars, I decided they must be bird watchers and asked them if they could help me make an identification. Understandably a little confused by me, wearing a tartan faux fur coat and messily smudged winged eyeliner and definitely not looking like the standard outdoors-y type, they faltered for an instant before realising I was genuinely interested. Before long, all three had huddled around me, inspecting my binoculars (“they’re not bad,”) and telling me that the raft of birds on the horizon was in fact a group of eider and scoter ducks. They reminded me of Macbeth’s three witches, a play based not far from where I stood, and I felt warmed by their sudden appearance when I needed them.
My memory of this event was jogged on Easter Sunday, whilst walking along a long stretch of beach, and thinking to myself how funny it was that on an international holiday I was once again by the sea. The thought of New Year was so fresh on my mind that I was almost unsurprised when later, sitting in a beachside cafe for lunch, four people came and sat right next to us, befriending our dogs across the table. I’m almost certain they too were a group of birdwatchers, and I wondered what guidance they had to offer me, appearing so similarly to the time before. We spoke mostly about the dogs, they offered me advice with the puppy and reminded me that she’ll calm down eventually, and “all your work will pay off.” Turning back to their friends, talking now about palm reading and it’s uses as a flirting technique with girls, I was left picking my jaw up off the floor at the answer to my question that I had asked the rune cards before I left. I suppose, after all, birdwatchers are hopeful people - going out, dedicated to the wait, putting in the time with the aim of it paying off in the form of a good sighting. I think maybe that’s the lesson, that if I’m ready with my boots on and binoculars in hand, it might all work out in my favour. That, and I should probably learn palmistry.
Until next time,
Eerie x
