I am always as transparent as possible when explaining to others who I am and what I feel like I am here to do. I don't deliberately withhold information because I believe part of my life's purpose involves a reckoning with my own existence and experience and sharing what I am learning with others for the sake of healing. I know in my being that if we commit to knowing oursleves deeply, we can and by consequence want to, heal ourselves. But being openly authentic can feel like skating on thin ice. The fear of falling is a visceral one, a very human one. What if I open up too much, say too much? What if I am too vulnerable? What will people think? What will people say?
So bear with me because this might be the moment when I fall in.
For as long as I can remember, psychic mediums and tarot card readers have had a place in the lives of my loved ones. Whenever there was an issue that seemed to be pressing or impossible, and all the prayers have been prayed, all our official and unofficial counselors have been consulted, and all the attempts at arriving at a solution have been exhausted; the word-of-mouth recommendations would be sought. There would be conversations and phone calls (remember those?) of all the women we trusted. Have you been to anyone good lately? And then, at the very least, several leads appeared with lots of well wishes.
I admit, I have always loved the excitement of sitting with someone who might be able to give clarity or a different perspective I never considered about my life. The thought that another person could help me understand on a different level, by way of a random shuffle, was entralling. Intellectually, I understood all the pitfalls, drawbacks, and dangers that accompanied this sort of thing. All the women I trusted, young and old, educated and uneducated, understood those things too. It was never about cynicism or distrust. It was always about hope.
Those things never discouraged me enough from receiving a reading. I honestly did, and still do, believe that there are people who have a gift for it. Some of whom were in my circle of women I trusted and loved.
Despite all the fear mongering that goes on about, well, let's admit it, just about everything in life, I made a decision one day over two years ago to learn more about tarot and decided to take an introductory class with a woman whose podcast I had been listening to for a couple of years prior. I still listen every week. This course was a a little gift to myself, something I wanted to learn more about and perhaps could satisfy something that always lingered in my mind's curiosity. Is it possible that the existence of life beyond our physical form, signs of which that so many of us (religious, atheist, and in-between) experience or bear witness to, also extends to these cards? The desire to know more was stronger than my fear. I started to ask God to stick with me, to hold my hand down this path, to give me a clear "stay away" if this was not right for me. I also had to start putting others' opinions in perspective as well as my own. I myself am gulity of being a fear mongor when years ago someone I love told me they were interested in doing the same. I had no right. I apologized and hope she truly forgives me. But, there I was, about to turn on Zoom at the beginning of the first class, and I was still sitting in my own fears.
After a couple of classes on learning how to read tarot cards, I felt more at ease with the process. The circle of women were women I wouldn't think twice of starting a friendship with. Women of all ages, races, and ethnicities. These "pieces of paper with some plastic on them" (as my teacher referred to them) were visually appealing, rich with detail and symbolism, and contained an infinite array of potential meaning. That's where the two people sitting around them, carefully unpack what it could all represent. And there, at that moment, with both fully focused and well intentioned, is where I have seen pretty amazing things happen.
Recently, I was at a Christmas event in a historical location and I set up in a very warm and inviting room on the second floor of an almost 300 year old estate. I set up the table and played some soft instrumental music. I lit some white candles for a calming ambiance. I felt absolutely at peace and my spirit was serene. I prayed to God with trust and let go of any limiting beliefs I might have been carrying unconciously. A couple walked in and started to chitchat with me about nothing in particular.
They sat. One of them expressed interest in a reading. In what is now a blurred memory, a very poignant revelation of sincere platonic love between the two young friends just spontaneously took place in front of me. They looked at each others' eyes, almost oblivious that I was in the room with them. They declared their love in friendship and how deeply they each admired the other. Each had the most sincere and beautiful things to say about the other and how they felt lucky to be their friend. Every bit of it so organic, so genuine. The three of us softly smiled with tears in our eyes as one friend left the other and me alone for the reading. This is not the first time that this has happened almost exactly that way when I hold a session. I am still unsure exactly why this happened, since the querent's question has nothing to do with their friend. It happened twice this past summer too in a different location.
I now believe that the reading was the excuse for that beautiful declaration of love to be spoken outloud and mutually. The reading still yielded enough resonating information that satisfied the querent. That in combination with the spontaneity of what happened beforehand, we parted with an overwhelming acknowledgment that all that is good in our lives needs to surface in ordinary moments, in the mundane, and yes, sometimes, in the least likely of situations. When no one expects it.
I won't say with certainty that offering readings will never be touched by my self doubt again. I am perfectly imperfect. I am human. I will however say that when any of it pops up, I will remember two friends bearing witness to their love for one another. I know God was present. He was the love they felt. He allowed me to see Him in their eyes. Fear holds no power in the presence of love.
So, I will, keep following where I am being called, rooted in my faith, grounded in love, and always, but always, being myself.
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