Alright, folks. Strap on your thinking caps, because here we go.
According to a variety of mostly credible websites a bird’s wishbone is technically known as the furcula, which is made up of two fused clavicles.
And we got the tradition of snapping wishbones from the Etruscans, an ancient Italian civilization, who loved their chickens.
Apparently, they believed that the birds were oracles and could divine the future.
They even turned the fowl into walking ouija boards with a ritual called alectryomancy, which basically translates as “rooster divination.”
Sounds crazy, doesn’t it?
Not really.
Because when it sucks, when we can barely breathe or hold on one more second, we want to know what’s coming next.
We are so damn tired of living with the uncertainty, that we want a rooster, a penny, god, even a dust bunny to tell us something good is on the way.
We want to know that this death of everything we once knew and held dear is opening the way for something new. Something better.
And so whether we are doing rooster divination, or whispering our deepest wishes to a bone we break, we want to believe that congratulations! A new life starts tomorrow!
The things outside of you might get better.
And they might not.
When it gets hard, and when you are uncertain, breathe.
When you doubt yourself, breathe.
When it feels impossible to be kind to yourself and others, breathe.
Because as long as you are breathing, you are living, and as long as you are living, you are staying, here, even if your here is full of too much sh!t and you have too little shovel.
And if you can’t live with the uncertainty, if you can’t bear it, then by all means, go for the rooster divination, the tarot cards, the magic-8 ball.
Do whatever it takes to survive.
Hold on.
Because no matter how hard it fights, or how terrifying it might be, night can never, ever defeat the soft light of a new day.