I remember my mother and her friend Florrie, from over the road, reading the tea leaves. This ritual always seemed to happen on a Saturday or Sunday morning and involved the use of our best china teapot and our best china cups and saucers. These precious family items usually only saw the light of day when we had relations or guests coming for tea on a Sunday afternoon (itself a ritual) and so I inferred from that, that this tea leaf reading business must be a very important thing indeed. On top of that, the readings were always used as a sort of guide or pointer to what our family fortunes might be for the coming week and so over time, I unknowingly absorbed the rituals and secrets associated with the art of Tasseomancy. Jane Struthers in her book, The art of tea-leaf reading, calls this ritual 'The tasseomancy ritual' and states that, 'When you prepare for a ritual, such as setting out a special teapot, cup and saucer for your daily tea-leaf reading, you are automatically putting yourself into a frame of mind to carry out that ritual. The actions you take, such as setting a tray with the tea things and reaching for the special notebook in which you record your readings, will help to prepare your unconscious mind for what is to follow'. Long after these early childhood experiences of mine had been filed away and forgotten about, I had occasion to unknowingly draw upon them prior to running a 100K race in Mongolia. At the time I had no inkling that I was making an instant connection with my past in order 'to prepare my unconscious mind for what was to follow'. As far as I and a few other runners were concerned, we were just getting rid of our pre-race nerves by having some fun. Given that we were in a very remote part of Mongolia preparing to run in the 2006 Sunrise to Sunset 100K footrace, certain items were not readily available to us; alcohol for one - apart from the local industrial strength Vodka that is - and Indian or Ceylon tea for another. Tea therefore was brewed from local berries and of course the rather tough skins left in the bottom of our cups, were ideal for reading our fortunes; especially our fortunes concerning the very next day and the start of a race that would take us over high mountain passes and across the open steppes of Mongolia. The group of runners I was part of were a truly international bunch, as they had come from all corners of the world and most had never heard of, let alone seen someone perform the Art of reading tea leaves. So there I was peering into one cup after another and dispensing the fortunes of all who wanted to know. I can't remember all of the readings but there were two in particular that stuck in my mind. In one cup belonging to a Korean Fund Manager from New York there was a definite image of a rabbit made up of three fruit skins. The reading taken from this image, was that like a lucky rabbits foot, this rabbit represented good fortune for what was to come. The second reading came from a cup belonging to an American Chinese language expert. His cup also contained three fruit skins giving an image of a salmon leaping a waterfall - a sure sign of strength and stamina and again a good omen for what was to come. Both these guys and others who had been present were completely bowled over by these readings, as I was and from then on I was known as the Shaman. Needless to say that all went on to complete their race without mishap.
Why did I suddenly get the urge to read tea leaves and why was I named as a Shaman? Well, the part of Mongolia we were in, Hovsgol National Park, is a place where Shamanism is still practised and given that I love to run and be one with nature, I think that I unconsciously tuned into this belief system and 'hey presto', my previously hidden tea leaf reading talents came bubbling up to the surface for all to see. That's what I like to believe anyway. Oh yes, during the early part of the race, just after dawn in fact, I received a good omen too in the form of an antelope shaped cloud, which of course represents agility and fleet footedness. Have to say though that I hardly felt fleet footed towards the end of this race and I had suffered much to even get that far!
Happy trails.
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