Jason asks about life changing Tarot Card readings in his post. Mine got lengthy, so I’m posting it here.
It wasn’t long after my dad had died that my mom, sister and I went to New Orleans. I was 20, a baby Pagan and still sort of at that obnoxious age where I wanted proof of everything (even more than now).
Mom’s tolerance of the occult was mellowed by beignets and chicory coffee. I had learned somewhere around that age that she wanted nothing to do with psychics because she had learned how accurate they could be when she and her friends went to see one when she was just a bit older than I am now, he wanted nothing to do with her. Naturally, that made her curious so she pressed him and all he would say was that things would become sad and difficult soon. Shortly after my grandmother passed unexpectedly. Despite this, she pressed a twenty into my hand and told me to go crazy in Jackson Square where all the readers hung out and discreetly took my sister to go watch some street performers.
A private reading without my nosy little sister present by a reader of my choosing! I was heady with freedom. I didn’t want to get snookered as my beloved Judge Judy would say so I ruled out anyone reading anything but tarot which I was proficient with at the time though it would be some time before I read professionally. I also wanted someone older who would likely be more experienced. I circled slowly and eventually chose a salty haired gentlemen who identified as Wiccan as I did at the time. He had a kind but professional vibe about him that I liked.
What do people usually ask a tarot reader about? Boys (and girls) in my experience. Sometimes a baby. A job. Feeling generally lost. I was in college and working two jobs already so that was set. No babies, please. I was fighting before I left with my long time boyfriend at the time. We didn’t have texting and long distance cell phone calls cost money as did time online. I wanted security and the promise of forever as did half of my contemporaries (the other half smartly knew that wasn’t going to be possible for most of us yet and instead wisely spent their time experimenting and sleeping around). So boys and feeling generally lost it was.
I requested a Celtic cross reading as I was very familiar with that spread (no funny business!) and I suspiciously eyed the cards as the poor guy tried to gently tell me that the relationship would likely not work out. Actually, worse. He said the relationship would work as long as I kept making it work (retrospectively, a pattern that would haunt my twenties). Naturally, this was unacceptable. I had already selected Boyfriend as my forever home and planned on riding that pony all the way down to the altar and his compliance and willingness as well as pro-activeness (which 20 year old boys are famous for) were necessary in my equation. I didn’t want to get married yet, we needed to finish college. Maybe live together first. That could take at least five years! I already did three! What about my ROI!
“But the last card!” I cried. “It’s the World! That’s the best card in the deck! How could I get the best card in the deck when all signs point to eventual breaking up!”
“Because when you do, your world will open up,” he said simply.
I paid the man and left unsettled. Naturally, we did break up. I was pissed at the time with Boyfriend’s Break Up of a Thousand Paper Cuts approach and his mumbled we have nothing in common which was unsatisfactory. But. My world did open up. I saw London, Paris and Rome. I experimented. I got to feel free to get as drunk as I wanted and dance on as many tables as I wanted. I got to figure out who I was as I ran through new partners and new life experiences. I started clubbing and acquiring corsets. I built SalonCon and got published. I got married and divorced. I became a homeowner. The world did indeed open up for me.
As for Boyfriend, well, I always say he’s my favorite exboyfriend. He smuggled champagne into my limo at my wedding since I didn’t get to drink at all. He talked me through when I volunteered for Katrina clean up with the Red Cross as he was just coming back from Iraq and never made me feel stupid about it. He helped me move into the condo I live in now. He comes to my cocktail parties. He’s a good egg. The best egg. But not the egg for me.