I have good intuition about fate's general trends, but I don't think of myself as psychic when it comes to foreseeing specific events. I've never been able to predict winning lottery numbers, for example. But lately I'm wondering if that's changing. I seem to be developing a knack for prognosticating certain sports events. For example, on three occasions I have hallucinated a golden cup floating in mid-air a short time before Albert Pujols, a Capricorn who plays for the St. Louis Cardinals baseball team, hits a homerun. So I wonder what it means that right now, as I'm studying your astrological omens and meditating on your future, I'm flashing on an image of three golden cups filled with champagne. It's 2:15 in the morning, and the Cardinals aren't playing.

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Elijah, the beer truck driver who lives in the trailer with old tires, rusty tools, and the husk of a 1975 Chevy El Camino littering the driveway, tells me that everything he knows about God can be summed up in the bumper sticker on the back of the El Camino, which reads "Theresa and Johnny's Comfort Food -- Live Free or Die."

Mythologist Joseph Campbell, on the other hand, suggested we should imagine a deity to be like a floating ball of fire that would immediately kill anyone it touched.

Then there's the poet Rumi. He envisioned God as your tender Best Friend and Unpredictable Ally who's always as close as your own breath.

Which version do you prefer?
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The preceding oracle comes from my book, PRONOIA Is the Antidote for Paranoia: How the Whole World Is Conspiring to Shower You with Blessings.