I have always wanted to go to a psychic. I don’t necessarily believe in the paranormal, but I thought it would be a fun experience to have someone read my Tarot cards. So, when we went to the beach this weekend and happened to park in front a shop named “Spiritual Aura,” I took my 8 year old son by the hand and we walked through the door.
The “psychic” herself was about 60 years old. She wore one of those sleeveless t-shirts with a sweater over top of it and shorts. Her hair was short, and I personally didn’t think she looked very psychic. Psychics in the movies always wear long, flowing clothing, and have long hair to match. I thought if she was going to swindle me out of my money, she should at least look the part. There was something weird about her eyes though, I decided, and because of that I let her her otherwise normal appearance slide. One was bigger than the other, and they were blue and clear, like the ones in horror movies.
I sat down in a brightly colored room that didn’t exactly scream psychic energy. Psychics are supposed to be in dimly lit rooms surrounded by candles. This room had a table wedged between a printer and a massage chair, but whatever. My son was wiggling, bored already, but I tried not to let it bother me.
She decided to do a Tarot card reading and some kind of energy thing where she supposedly tapped into my spirit. “ok, as long as it’s under the 30 dollar umbrella,” I said and laughed, then cut the cards after she shuffled them a bit.
“Oh, my spirit guide tells me you need to focus on your business!” she told me immediately after arranging the cards in a “T” like formation. “the time for rest is over, and now you need to work as I can tell your finances are not in the greatest shape right now.”
Ok, that was a little spot on, I thought. I do need to focus on money…but then again, who doesn’t?
“Oh, but in five years….she looked at another card “in five years you’re going to start to come into your own, and you’re business will take off! You’ll become your best self!” she assures me. “But be wary of professional people. Doctors and lawyers. I’m trying to see if I can tell exactly what your business is. Hmm,” she concentrated. “Something…creative…something like writing but…”
I’m a musician, but didn’t say anything.
“Sports?” she settled on instead. It wasn’t exactly farfetched given physique. I’ve been asked if I was a professional athelete before. I’m not. Just a dedicated gym rat.
“No, not into sports.” I tell her.
“Hmm, well…something creative then.” she continues. She looks at me with a kind of torture on her face so I give a little and tell her I teach piano lessons for a living. She heaves a sigh of relief. “So it must be a music business.” I shrug and tell her it’s possible I guess.
My son complains he’s bored and a motor rev’s outside. There is a classic car show two streets away. “And my spirit guide is telling me you need a new car.” she says. “Something to boost your image for your business.” she tells me.
I almost laugh, knowing exactly where that came from.
She prattles on a little more about this supposed business, then puts the cards away and directs me to put my finger on a glass heart. She puts her finger on the other side, and I swear the glass vibrates. It’s a little weird, and I’m reminded that it most likely works the way a ouija board works with the small vibrations in our hands.
“Oh, my spirit guide likes you a lot!” she tells me, although I doubt she would tell me otherwise. “You have people watching out for you. Lots of them…”
Ok, I’ve always felt that. I think.
I tell her about the fact that my father died, and she makes up some BS about how he’s saying “hi, ” and misses me, although part of me kind of like that she said it.
When the 15 minutes are up, my son says it’s his turn. I sigh and tell him “no,” but the psychic says it’s fine. “Kids are fun.” she declares “I’ll throw a few cards out for him, no charge.” she says, and I say ok. I reason she’s probably bored. It’s not like there’s a line out the door.
My son cut the cards, and low and behold, the first card that comes up is a man lying down with 50 swords in his back. It’s the death card. Fabulous. Apparently that’s not the only bad card he pulls because she looks at the spread and simply says. “Hmm, there might be some bad energy in here from somewhere.” Let’s try that again. Thankfully, my son had no idea that he had drawn the death card.
She tried it again, and apparently the next hand wasn’t much better, and in fact, death made an appearance in that spread as well, although not at first, so she says “Why don’t we just have you pick a card.” He picks one card, and she heaves a sigh of relief. “Well that one means you have good judgment.”
My son is thrilled with what she tells him, and I’m grateful she didn’t say anything bad about life to my 8 year old. We pay the bill, thank her, and leave.
To be perfectly honest, it kind of did freak me out that he picked that card. Not only that he picked that card, but picked it first. It bothered me so much that I had him pick some Tarot cards on an internet app. Believe it or not, he AGAIN picked the death card first.
I tell myself I don’t believe any of this psychic mumbo jumbo, but to be honest, it does freak me out.
Then I realized, he probably picked the death card because of change. He just graduated from second grade, and things will be different for him from now on. It will be the death of 2nd grade, and hopefully the birth of a great year in third grade. After all, Tarot does, after all, force you to look at different aspects of your life and force you to contemplate the meaning.
Pieces of Me 