“Fate comes when it will, and thus we are ready.” – I-Ching
A few months ago–hard to believe it’s been that long– I decided to get my tarot cards read. It was a rough night: my mind, heart and body were all exhausted and I wasn’t in the mood for a beer or a beignet, so I wandered to the edge of the Square and asked how much a reading would be. I had something like 3 dollars and some pocket change in my wallet and not a great deal in my bank account either. In my blacks from being backstage, a worn jean jacket and my trademark brown newsboy cap, she looked me up and down and said, “10 dollars? Give me what you can.” I told her I’d be right back. One of the only ATMs left in the world that lets you take out 10 dollar bills exists right across the Joan of Arc statue near Cafe Du Monde (for everyone’s future reference). So I took out a 10, mumbled about the damn fee and spilled my 13 bucks and some change on her table.
Cynthia was her name.
For some reason I knew she was legit. I can’t really explain how– intuition, I suppose. I had actually considered getting my tarot read for the past couple of months, but for some reason I knew this was the time. I’ve been told that by other people before. That you just kind of know. I need to do this, now’s the time.
My Mom thinks I’m crazy. She’s a realist and doesn’t believe in anything even around the corner from the supernatural. And she’s not alone. I recently read this book all about a former Fundamentalist Mormon (Shattered Dreams: My Life as a Polygamist’s Wife by Irene Spencer) who went to see two different psychics/tarot-readers who both gave her an eerily accurate reading of what was to come. In this chapter Spencer gave a lengthy footnote about how she doesn’t condone psychics and the supernatural, but that she recognizes that it must have been God working through these people to tell her what she needed to hear.
Cynthia told me she was a Christian tarot-reader and that most of the other readers didn’t understand this. “How can you be Christian and be a tarot reader?” They asked her. Well, hold on a second! Of course there are crooks and fakes all over the place, that’s in every business, in every place in the world. But can’t it be possible that, like Spencer noted (though she was a little backwards in her logic about not condoning it), that everything can be a sign. That everything could be God or someone trying to tell us something if only we’d be open to the possibility? Of course we have to have our common sense hats on, I get that– we have to be smart about everything, don’t we? But I think there’s a big difference between being smart and being open. Take everything with a grain of salt (with many grains of salt), but why not take it?
Yesterday I was working away on my laptop. It was a sleepless night and a less than sunny morning. Suddenly “An American Symphony” (one of the most uplifting songs I know: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dYo67-n7E-Q&feature=related) from Mr. Holland’s Opus started playing in my bathroom when I never input a setting…. a sign?
My friend Matty and I went backpacking this past winter and we were with a tour group in London. He has this autumn-colored, striped scarf that he bought 2 years ago at H&M in New York City. We were on our way to check out one of the Christmas fairs around Hyde Park when there it was, laying perfectly on the rot-iron fence. The same exact scarf he was wearing that day. Two years later in London. Coincidence? If it was a coincidence, it was an incredible one. Call me a crazy hippy, but I like to think it was some kind of sign.
Post-Script: This postcard is for Paul. A former co-worker of mine. In the process of clearing out my life for the big move, I came across his address which I requested before my move from Santa Fe last fall. I think he’s the right person to get this week’s card.