The Red Strings of Fate

They say we're tied to our soul mates by a red string. Maybe we are. rate and message!!! I love you for reading!

Created by malnourished on Tuesday, January 20, 2009

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The Chinese culture has a belief in the existence of a red string of fate. Gods link a man and a woman by their ankles with an invisible string so they can meet and get married. The belief goes like this:

"An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet,
regardless of time, place, or circumstance.
The thread may stretch or tangle,
but it will never break."

Like a myth or a legend, ancient beliefs have some degree of truth. False beliefs have a scientific explanation. For true beliefs, there are no scientific explanation, no way to prove them, or even try to prove them. That’s the red string case. It’s invisible. No one can prove you’re with your soul mate or not. But a belief doesn’t begin by accident, like a new recipe for a sweet desert. Maybe someone could see those strings and made a story. It was a way to share a hidden secret, in a secretive way. And that’s how secrets become mysteries and mysteries are turned into beliefs.

A young boy, walking home at night, encounters a man standing in the Moonlight. The man was beautiful, a pale godly like feature. The man turns to look to the boy, painfully forgetting the place he once stared at.

“Hello…” He said in a whisper.

The young boy stopped staring at this God, and his body started to move again. The God, noticing the uncomfortable mystery he has provoked, gave a quick smile.

“I’m Yue Xia Lao, a God. I came to tell you something important little boy.”

The young boy still could not speak, but gave a quick nod at the God.

“I’m here to show you your wife, the one you’re attached with a red string, like every other man on this world.”

The God sighed and touched the head of the young boy. The boy saw this pretty girl, the prettiest of all in the village. The young boy could not understand and looked at the God. But the God looked at the moon.

“Goodbye.” said the God. And he disappeared when a cloud shadowed the moon.

On the next day, the young boy playing in the center of the village saw the pretty girl of the night before. Without thinking twice, the boy threw a rock at the girl and ran home.

Many years passed, and passed to the time where the young boy came to be a young man, a man in the age of marriage. So, like everybody else in the village, his parents arranged a marriage to him. And on the fated night of the wedding, seeing his wife in the bedroom, the boy sets out to remove the veil of the bride, finding one of the prettiest girls of the village in his sight. However, she wears an adornment on her eyebrow.

“Why do you wear that?” The boy asked.

“When I was a young girl, this boy threw a rock at me, leaving a scar in my eyebrow. I wear it ever since.”

Suddenly remembering the girl showed by the God, he hugs his wife and whispers sweet and meaningful apologizes.

“We’re fated to be.” He said. “An invisible red string links us.

That’s how the belief started. But I sometimes wonder who really should be congratulated. The God or the boy who threw the rock? I think all merit goes to someone who wasn’t mentioned. It’s the matchmaker. He’s the one who can prove the belief.

I relate to that matchmaker. I see the strings that bind two persons till death do they part.

And the perfect spot to laugh at internal destiny jokes?

In a sunny Sunday afternoon, in Central Park New York.

“Good afternoon” said the old man with a grey moustache and blue winter jacket. “Mind if I sit next to you?”

“No, no. Go ahead” I smiled and pretended to focus on Jules Verne “Paris in the 20th Century” book I carried with me.

I tried finding this old man’s red string. There are no more matchmakers in this World or the nearest. Well, maybe they still have the abilities, but are simply out of business. This free world is the problem for the lack of matchmakers. Everybody can marry and like whoever they please. Of course there’s nothing wrong with that. There’s just more unhappiness. The “Is he the one?” question came to haunt us. And when I am asked that question, I cannot answer simply with a yes or a no. The strings are tricky. There are many hidden meanings, many ways for a string to be attached. Like the couple sitting in the bench in front of mine. They all look so lovely together. Perfect. There could be no couple more perfect thank this one. She, with her green eyes and blonde hair, the one girl most women aspire to look like, and he, with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes. They look perfect. They’re not meant to be. Both their strings, tied to their pinkies, stretches to miles apart. Ah ah! Or this couple apparently angry and upset! In a quick pace to be in a private place so they can continue their argument, they pass by other people in a glance. Can’t they see? They’re tied together! And so tight! Ah ah!

“I never saw anyone laughing at Jules Verne “Paris in the 20th Century” before! It usually makes us think very deeply.”

Woops. I must have been laughing audibly. I quickly looked at the pages I was supposed to be reading.

“Yes it is. I like how Verne calls the Internet a “Worldwide "Telegraphic" Communications Network”!”

“Ah ah ah!” the man laughed in an outburst of energy. “So true. I suppose he didn’t like this worldwide telegraphic communication?”

“No he didn’t. But we can’t blame him, can we? He never saw how fun and practical the Internet could be.”

“I agree. But we’re afraid of what we don’t know, right?”

“Yes we are.” Boy, isn’t he damn right?

“Well, I should be going and leave you to finish the book. Goodbye Miss.


The man slowly walked away from my vision.

I could not see this man’s red string. A tiny knot is tied to his pinky, but that’s all. It doesn’t stretch. This is normal too, and usually happens in the older folks. It’s that time of life when people around begin to fade away to a secret place. This man’s soul mate is there. In that secret place. I can’t say that he met his soul mate or not. I would need to be focused for a long time, to see where one end leads to the other end. And that was quite hard when the buzz of my cell phone was keeping me from concentrating. But then I realized.

“Damn! I’m late!”

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