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New Years Eve Tarot Read

January 16, 2017

It is new years eve and it seemed like a good day to go and do something I had never done before: get a tarot reading.  Growing up under the teachings of The Church Of Jesus Christ Of Latter Day Saints, it was advised to avoid anything that was in the realm of witch craft and trying to contact spirits. It was said that the spirits in this world were actually working for satan, so trying to chat with them was pretty silly and dangerous. You really only need to watch that amazing 90s teen film, The Craft to know that it is not the power or spell that is bad,  there is o bad or good except in the heart of the witch. No wonder the LDS church wanted you avoiding that, it completely rendered all the patriarchal god fearing and hell fire stuff null and void. It placed the power in you.

So I went to The Royal Arcade off Bourke Street Mall and found the adorable and busy pagan shop: Spell Box and made an appointment to see and be seen by Joyce. While I waited I looked around the store and considered by a candle that came with a tiny owl pendant. The candle was to be lit on a full moon and used to inspire wisdom. I looked at bracelets made from jade stones and tried them on my wrists to see if they would fall off easily. The stones felt cold and smooth on my skin.  There was some young tween girls looking at fancy looking boxes  with their Dad.  ”It is beautiful.” The Dad said as he crouched down with his daughter. ”Will it fit all the stuff you want to put in it, though?”

When it is my time, I am approached by a buxom woman in her late forties. She  has perfect ruby red lips and  curly blonde hair pulled up and tesed around her face. She is wearing paisley and her skirts tinkle with tiny bells. I smile as she leads me up some stairs and ushers me into a dark room with a lamp and a small round table with a satin cloth draped over it. The room is hot like an oven. The fan is too loud so we leave it off.

”You can record the session on your phone if you like.” Joyce tells me. After fiddling with my iphone for a bit, I realize I have no idea how to record. ”Is it an iphone or android?”

”Iphone.” I say.

”I cant help you, I’m afraid.”

I laugh and put my phone away. ”My person would feel very validated by your comment.” I say. ”They hate iphones.”

Joyce looks at me and says, ”You have a partner?” Damn I was not meant to give her any free info about me, I think. I nod as I mentally kick myself.

They are creative and are very intuitive to the rage and anger within others. I am told and I agree. Joyce says that they are creative and do not focus on or express their own creativity enough. I nod in agreement. They need to channel the rage and anger around and in them and pool it into their own creative endevours.  Joyce stops and leans back in her chair with tarot cards in hands. ”This does not help you, though. But, wanting the people to love to  succeed encourage them to carry out their own dreams, is pretty important.” You cannot argue with that. I really want them to do their own stuff as they are just so talented and have so much more to offer than merely being part of other peoples visions.

Joyce tells me a bit about herself: raised catholic and completed a degree in psychology. She always felt a great spiritual presence or power around her and within. Not the spiritual power that the catholic church pushes: one of guilt and self hate. She asks me what brings me here. I tell her curiosity. ”I was raised in a religion that taught all this stuff was evil and should be avoided at all costs.” I tell her. ”I was too scared to even take part in sleep over seances as a teen, because the Mormon church strongly advised that stuff opened up your soul to the devil. ” I ell her that now that I am a grown up and no longer feel tied down by the fear of hell and an angry heavenly father, I can do things that I have always wanted to do or experience. Once you have ticked off the big ones: sex before marriage, alcohol consumption, tea drinking, recreational drug use. You need to get more imaginative.

 

”Do you work?”

The question makes me look down and then up again. I avoid her eyes and then gather my courage. Her eyes are kind and questioning. There is no malice there, it is only in me and directed at me. ”If you mean gainfully employed in full time work, no.”

”I didn’t actually. I meant what do you do thats important to you.”

My shoulders unclench and I feel my spine sigh a little as it releases tension. I straighten my tiny rounded shoulders as much as they will allow. ”I write. I want to be a great writer.” I say. It feels so good to say it out loud. In the tiny,  one lamp  lit windowless room, the statement feels like a confession fused with an declaration.   ”Im getting a strong welfare sense from you.” I nod and frown. I am told that this is not to be ashamed off. The work that I do writing and making my voice heard is an important work and should not be considered of lesser value that working in a 9 to 5. Joyce tells me that my words and point of view mean a great deal to a great many people and will continue to matter. I am told that the kindness of the state  allows me to do my important work that matters to people. ”You need to let go of all that fear that surrounds you in regards to your writing upsetting certain people.” Joyce tells me.

I am asked to divide the tarot card deck into three piles and pick a pile to take a card from. I do this and choose the top of the left pile.  Joyce is doing card stuff and my bad eyes do not allow me to see whats on the cards. I concentrate on what she is saying.  ”I ma getting a very strong child vibe and nurture.” Joyce tells me.

”I cant have kids.” I tell her. I feel a bit deflated at this. ”You don’t need to have kids in order to be nurturing. It could mean that you need to nurture your own belief in yourself. It could relate to how you value friendships and relationships. What is your relationship like with your mother?” I groan and make a face. ”Not good?” I shake my head. Joyce places cards on the table as she speaks. She says something that makes me squirm in discomfort, or is that recognition of something inside myself I am too ashamed to ever say out loud? ”You feel  you would have done a better job at mothering than your mother did with you.” Joyce says. I stare up at the ceiling and turn my attention to the lamp light splashed across the wall. That is a horrible thing to think. I think. I nod slowly. It is true. I do think that sometimes. I wont ever get to know for sure though as I dont want any children. Being the eldest and having all that responsability when still a  child myself, killed any mothering desires I may have had. ”I would have done things differently.” I say softly.

”You are on two very different plains.”  I try to keep my adamant nodding to a minimum so I don’t break my own neck.  ”I know she loves me but I do not feel connected to her at all.”

”She does not see your light.You are scared of writing what you need and want too as it will upset certain relationships, your mother/ daughter relationship in particular. You need to let go of all that angst and mother related fear and focus on doing what is important to you. You cannot control how people respond to your work. It is doing it and  continuing to do it that is most important.”

Joyce encourages me to put it out in the universe, my wish or want or desire.

”Mother. I am going to write my truth and do what matters most to me. I am sorry. I love you. I have to this.”

I need to treat my writing more as a buisness. Joyce tells me that in the next three months I must focus on it more fully and even go away somewhere quiet and rural. I need to go away somewhere where there is a lake and mountains and I can sit and write with a view of the lake and be undisturbed. This sounds wonderful to me. I know you should be able to work anywhere as a writer, but, I would love to go somewhere with a lake view and solitude. I ask to see the card that is giving her this idea and she places it in front f me. She points to the tiny mountains in the bottom left of the card. I read the words at the bottom of the card: ACE of SWORDS. I look up at Joyce. ”Oh wow.” I say. ”This card is making some connections for me. It is bringing to mind a specific heart break that I’m basing a novel on. The person it is making me think of did not mean too but did break my heart.” I pause for a long moment.

”I helped a little.”

”You need to work on that book. What is something about that relationship that you are grateful for?”

I sit and think. ”They took my writing seriously.” I say. ”They were one of the first people to see me as  talented and that I should share my writing instead of hiding it.” With that statement I proved that the ace of swords card can uncover a new way of thinking about certain situations. It can indicate a push to stop certain self delusions and focus on a brighter and more realistic perspective

Joyce encourages me to let go and put less energy into focusing on past relationships and focus more on the relationships that I have now. Common sense to some but revelatory to me.  I may need to only do this to a point as past heart break is pretty good for poems and writing. There needs to be a certain amount of conflict or unrequited feelings.

The final portion of the read revolves around decisions and feelings of worry and fear of the future in regards to life and goals and feeling far behind others when it comes to success and progress. I am presented with the hanged man card. Joyce tells me this could represent a release of control and encourages me to not stress about all the decisions all at once and right now. It is ok to not have it all figured out. I feel comforted by this. I ask Joyce.

”Do you think that some of my stress about not being completely convinced of many things, comes from the whole being raised in a religion that claims to have every part of life sorted and planned? Because it is scary not knowing what will happen when I die but I’m much happier being more flexible in my brain space. My mind puffs are much puffier without organized religion deflating them.”

”That is certainly a very good interpretation.” Joyce tells me. It is then that she lets me know our time is up. We stand and I gather my tote. ”Give me a hug.” I do so and it is a wonderful soft hug. It could be due to the heat but I feel light headed and full of a inner fizz.  It was 55 dollars well spent. I did not feel my soul opening up to satan. I simply felt freshly imbued with new found purpose and lust for living my life.

 

 

 

 

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