I went to Ojai, CA in January with two good friends that I don’t see nearly enough. We figured that being surrounded by mountains and ocean and orange groves might distract us, just for a moment, from what was happening in DC that very weekend. You know – the national catastrophe.
Since I get to go on a trip about every five years, I was determined to make this one count. We already had the good friends portion covered, we stopped at the local grocer’s to cover the good wine, but we still wanted a little something to put the whole experience over the top.
We decided to see a psychic.
I’d been to a psychic before. Well, I’d laid down $5 on Bourbon St. to have my palm read once – I guess that kinda counts. I don’t remember what she said, but I’m certain she didn’t nail the five kids thing. I would’ve remembered that on account of how difficult it is to forget passing out in public.
In any case, this particular psychic was a totally new experience. First of all, she was EXPENSIVE – $50 not $5. And we had to make appointments a whole day before, no wandering in half-lit after cruising the French Quarter. Instead, we three showed up at noon, utterly hungover (we’d accidently drunk all seven bottles of wine the night before) to find out what our futures held.
Melissa and I sat in yellow chipped vintage lawn chairs in the Zen garden, while Virginia went first.
I was totally nervous. I wasn’t scared of what Rev. Kate would tell me, I was worried that I’d burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of it all and embarrass us both. We strained to hear what was coming from the little outbuilding. We heard nothing but occasional laughter, which I took as a good sign.
I went in last because I’m kind of a coward.
Here’s where I’ll peel back the curtain a little, in case you’ve ever wondered what it’s like to see a REAL psychic:
Reverand Kate was nothing like what I’d imagined. Her little room was just that – a little room with a few pieces of art on the wall, a bookcase in the corner with a lit candle, and a card table covered with a red tablecloth in the middle of the floor. Rev. Kate herself was a middle-aged redhead with kind eyes and a smoker’s raspy voice. She didn’t have a turban. She was wearing khakis. It seemed a bit like I was sitting down to play bridge with a hippie aunt.
She explained what she was going to do: say a little prayer, invite my spirit guides to join her spirit guides, and then read my tarot cards. She closed her eyes and prayed a prayer that included, among other things, something about the Christ-light and the highest good. Then she asked me to repeat my given name three times. I realized that I hadn’t said my entire name out loud in probably twenty years, but I did it, feeling like I was playing “Bloody Mary” at a sleepover.
There was a beat of silence, then she threw her head back, laughed, and said, “Oh! This is going to be FUN!”
And it WAS fun.
She started off by telling me about the world in general, how last year was a time of separating the wheat from the chaff and how 2017 was when we’d being seeing the results of that. For better or worse, that seemed true enough.
Then she began reading the cards she’d laid out in a crazy pattern on the table. She said I’d been doing a lot of work over the last four months – digging into my beliefs, sorting my issues and that as a result, I was vibrating at a super high frequency.
“This is true, yes?” she asked.
Uh, yeah, Kate, this is true. See this post (published in September).
Over the next thirty minutes, she said a lot of things that were true. She also said a lot of things that I really hope are true.
She gave me advice:
- Say “yes” to invitations. Even though you have a million reasons to say “No.” Except skydiving. Say “No” to that.
- Wake up each day with the intention of “freedom and abundance”.
- Send love, not fear, to things that concern you.
All pretty vague. But then she said:
- Read Augusten Burroughs and Carrie Fisher. (Remember this.)
After dealing the cards about seven times she asked about my mother:
“Your mother is in poor health?”
Well, since my mother is dead I guess that qualifies. I told her as much and she looked a little perplexed. She said she was getting “Heart and Blood”, and that whoever it was, I should, as usual, just send it love.
Then she asked if I had any particular questions. I wanted to know about my kids. She asked how many I had. I wondered what kind of psychic didn’t know about my dead mother or how many kids I had. She burst out laughing when I told her I had five (“They don’t make enough anti-depressants!”) so I figured if nothing else, she was a psychic with a sense of humor.
Here’s where it gets real:
She said I had a son who had “learning issues.”
I have only one son, and the morning of our trip I spent 2 1/2 hours in an IEP meeting at his school.
He DOES have learning issues – primarily that he tests off the charts gifted, but he has a processing delay so every brilliant thing comes out of him SO SLOWLY that it can be misinterpreted as exactly the opposite.
I came home a believer.
My flight arrived in Nashville at 2:30 am. At 10 am my father called to say he was at the doctor’s office with my step-mother. Her nose had been bleeding continuously for FOUR DAYS. Mother? Heart & Blood?
Eventually, I did pick up a book by Augusten Burroughs. I decided to start at the beginning with Running with Scissors. Yesterday, this fell out of that library book:
It’s not as if a million dollars fell out of that book, but there was this little nugget from the heart of a 17-year-old girl:
“There’s inspiration everywhere in this world…”
Let’s keep saying, “Yes” to every invitation to find it.