People often ask me when and how I started reading Tarot Cards. The following is my answer:
When I was in high school I received a gift certificate for a book store for $25 from my paternal grandmother, Grandma Margaret. I put that gift in my jewelry box to use when I was ready.
For over a year I would find myself shopping in the large chain bookstore and at the checkout I would remember that at home in my jewelry box was that gift. My grandmothers gift, just sitting there unused.
Finally one day, I was cleaning out my jewelry box and reread the card Grandma had sent with it. The card read, “Buy something special with this.” I stopped what I was doing, put the gift certificate in my purse and drove straight to the store.
When I arrived and was sitting in the parking lot I decided to let the item I was to buy to tell me for sure it was the right thing…whether it was to vibrate when I walked past, be oddly present in my minds eye or be strangely suggested by an unsolicited person. My deal with myself was that I had to feel psychic and magical.
I walked into the large double door entrance of this huge 2 story business excited about my plan. With nothing but cleaning on my agenda for the rest of the day the thought of having a few hours gobbled up inside a giant book store made me giddy with excitement. The distinctive smell of retail books greeted me as I swung open the second set of doors. My me-time had begun.
I browsed upstairs first. I like starting up there and then descending down into an ever bigger layer of a bookstore always, and still do. Just knowing that there is no pressure to find something on that first layer of my bookstore sprees makes shopping an even more savored experience. This time though, I was not filling a basket with goodies. This time I was to find one thing only. One item around $25 in value, that felt “special” to me, according to Grandmas wishes.
After sitting, reading, browsing and touching a massive array possibilities upstairs I descended downstairs empty handed but still excited. Maybe even more then when I first entered the store. I remember holding myself back almost as if I was teasing and bought a cup of tea first. I sat at a seat so I could visually see as much of the first floors shelves, rows and seemingly endless categories to pick from. I remember drinking that whole cup of tea. I drank it intentionally slow, savoring the anticipation of the next exciting browsing session. Oh how I love bookstores!
As I roamed and browsed I reminded myself that I had an agenda. It had to feel “special.” Just one thing. I would know it when I saw it. It would let me know it was the right thing. Nothing called to me. Nothing psychically persuaded me to need it. The only words I heard from or spoke to the mingling strangers were simple, polite and courteous chit chats as we all do when awkwardly breezing so close, yet so separate from other shoppers.
There were no signs, no special moments and at one point before giving up, I sat at a counter at the other side of the store and meditated. Not weirdly so as to draw attention to myself, but casually. I flew around the whole store in my minds eye looking for the glowing shelf or a floating book. Even a word, feeling or topic I mentally begged for. Yet, felt nothing. I questioned my silly challenge. Felt really nerdy making such a grand magical plan, invested hours and was leaving empty handed. Worse yet, now that I had made this magical pact with myself, I had to follow through and not use the gift until I felt something “special”.in the future. I wondered how long the gift certificate would sit in my jewelry box again. I wondered if my next try would or even could feel nearly as adventurous and exciting as this failed mission.
I turned my back on the interior, accepting magical defeat and walked to the first set of doors. There was a woosh when I pushed them open from the odd mixing between double door space. I was symbolically closing the door of an adventure gone wrong and leaving it behind to return to cleaning. A bummer indeed.
As I approached the door to the outside I heard a flat bang. It made me jump and then stop in my tracks. There, face down in a locked glass display cabinet between the two doors was a large deck of Tarot cards. I had never even seem one in person before. Because it was face down, I could clear as day see its price tag. It read, “$25.00”, the exact amount of my gift from Grandma Margaret.
I bought it and have never been the same again. Who would have guessed that I now have hundreds of Tarot decks, have learned to read anything from crystals to jewelry, tea leaves to shoes. (THAT’s another story in itself) I teach classes in psychic development and how to read Tarot, meditation and manifestation. I have been self employed as a professional psychic for decades with an extensive media portfolio, a radio show and used to own a metaphysical gift and book store. To think that it all began from a teenager playing a magical game with herself and a gift from her grandmother.