Last month, I came across a TikTok of a woman recalling her experience with a vedic astrologer named Sarita. She said Sarita had read her life to a T, from knowing personal details about her family to her health issues. “Guysss, you won’t belieeeve it! She even called out my IBS!” she squealed in the voice influencers use when they want you to click on their LTK storefront. It all seemed miraculous, until a closer look into this 20-something’s profile and widening the aperture on resident 20-somethings I knew made me realize that the pasta/coffee/alcohol-to-bloated stomach pipeline was a common one.
But I perused the TikTok comments (aka the collective truth, aka gospel), and nearly all of them were backing Sarita’s validity. Here’s a crazy one I read in particular:
Needless to say, I was intrigued. I immediately booked a reading through Sarita’s website. If this woman was pinpointing exact dates, I needed to know mine (my introversion longs for an excuse to stay in, and what better than “I can’t go out, my astrologer said I’d have bad luck today”?). If the reading ended up being BS, the most I’d lose was some money, which was akin to taking a breath in NYC.
When the day came, Sarita called me on my cell. I gave her my name and date/place/time of birth. She texted me my birth charts, which looked like something you’d poach from SpringerLink and fit into a college paper to feel like an ~intellectual~.
She then proceeded to talk for 15 minutes non-stop, which I was allowed to record. It was like listening to a celebrity gossip podcast, only it was about my own life. My eyes protruded out of my face a little more with each tidbit she dropped: the days of the week I’d have the most luck, the month I’d receive a career shift, the year I’d be married. She mentioned I had water problems at home, to which I immediately texted my roommate “OMFG.” Earlier this year, our apartment’s faucet was spewing an orange-tinged water before we installed a filter (our building management called it a problem, I called it zest. Po-tay-to, po-tah-to).
In the end, I was given the opportunity to ask questions. I probed in hopes of uncovering bad omens, but she dismissed any concerns. In fact, most of her predictions were largely positive. Perhaps I had decent luck, or perhaps she just knew how to work for that nice Yelp review. I concluded that anyone in her situation would’ve probably done the same, as most of her clients likely went to her during difficult times or when seeking direction in life. At its core, her role was one of solace, like a therapist but more spiritual, for those to leave feeling better than when they came. The recording of our session has since become a prized possession of mine that occasionally brings me to tears (I’m a Cancer, what can I say?).
Vedic astrology, with its intricate calculations, is often considered more accurate than Western astrology; in fact, its accuracy led to its prohibition in the West for years. Many female practitioners were branded as “witches,” for they were a little too omniscient, to the point of unsettling (men fearing women’s power??? what else is new!). But this raises an age-old quantum physics question: does knowing the future change it? Now that I’m aware of Sarita’s predictions, will they come true? The movie “Tenet” suggests that knowledge of the future can indeed reshape present events, a concept eloquently explained by Ayo Edibiri in this interview.
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As a worrywart, I’m constantly plagued by decision paralysis. Basically, the fact that each decision could forever alter my life’s trajectory prevents me from taking steps forward (from Italian vs. Japanese for dinner, to should I move cities or not) because my mind conceptualizes each decision as a matter of life or death. And when I eventually do decide, how do I guarantee that I did so correctly?
I’ve realized that obsessing over whether or not a choice is “right” is trivial, because there are other forces, i.e., the universe, at play. I’m still exploring my relationship with astrology, but I do believe that cosmic forces beyond our understanding have influence over our lives, to some degree. The universe is just too big, so… yeah, they must (revolutionary, I know. No one has had, in my generation, this crazy of a thought before. In the wise words of JoJo Siwa, being the first is very scary, but someone’s gotta do it.)
Every new choice inevitably brings me closer to my higher self, as it introduces more self-awareness, learning, and experience of the human condition. Ultimately, my role is to simply decide and then trust that the universe will handle the rest. Believing that there are forces beyond myself at work liberates me from anxiety over the unknown and allows me to move more confidently with fewer regrets. In other words, it’s not that serious! Make the decision and then let the universe work its magic.
But this lands us in the interesting philosophical territory of free will, which is, do we possess it or not? For instance, are our personalities truly our own and of our conscious choices, or are they predetermined by factors from birth? I, for one, love analyzing my friends’ Zodiac signs. This has helped me greatly in understanding why certain relationships flourish while others falter (the Co-Star app has me in a chokehold. Next time your friends are acting up, dropping “Typical [their Zodiac sign] behavior” is a surefire way to shatter their exceptionalism. You’re welcome). My best friend Bradley is a Virgo. As a Cancer, the Virgo/Cancer pairing is one of the strongest in the Zodiac – so even the signs say that we were meant to be.
However, while I use astrology as a framework to make sense of the world and alleviate uncertainty, there are also nuances that celestial alignments can’t account for (considering both my ex and current boyfriend are Tauruses, I’ve deduced that writings in the stars don’t, in fact, determine relationship outcomes). So, the notion of free will, even if illusory, affirms that our lives have meaning, and we must continue to believe in it.
I recently watched the Three Body Problem on Netflix, which tells the story of humans communicating with an alien race called the San-Ti. In the series, the San-Ti are hurtling towards Earth at light speed and are expected to reach in 400 years. This impending arrival sets off existential crises and leads to the formation of different factions, including one who seeks to befriend the San-Ti, and one who prepares for war against them (anybody else interested in starting a hiding faction?).

Regardless, how do you prepare for anything when you only have a rough idea of the direction but not the outcome? I can simply do my best, while the universe shapes itself to my circumstances as they unfold. The situation of an alien race arriving in 400 years is hyperbolic, but this principle holds true for decision points as immediate as today. In short, my fate lies as much in my hands as it does in the universe’s – a realization that brings about as much comfort as trepidation.