hanging around the spirit world

Seizing relentlessly upon the good fortune of grandparents, J and I head over to a wine festival in a small mountain town. There were six of us in all, wandering the streets, listening to music, drinking beer. We'd been up and down the length of it when at the far end we noticed a henna/palmist booth.

The three women wandered over, the men trailing with slightly rolled eyes behind. Ten minutes, we say. It'll just take ten minutes.

The gorgeous and aged Indian woman in the booth looked up at us and welcomed us in. She handed us a book of designs and my friends started perusing the options. I plopped down next to her and said just do what inspires you. She looked me in the eye for a long second, reached over and grabbed my hand momentarily and then said conspiratorially I've got it. Yes. And then as she grabbed my foot and gently placed it in her lap.

Oh, she said. Oh no. One toe ring? You only wear one toe ring? You are out of balance. You must fix this right away. She pulls me towards her and whispers this is very, very bad. Do you do this often? Yes, I replied, every single day. But you know, I can fix this right away. She shook her head and said something I didn't understand and also Before you go to sleep tonight, promise me. No problem. I don't know why, but I believe her, and will do as she says.

She paints an extraordinary design on one foot, and then, looking worried, talks again about her concern for my balance and as such, grabs my other foot and creates another masterpiece there. She asks me to wait and begins to tend to my friends.

While I am waiting I start talking to the palmist, an older British woman who has lightening bolts in her ears. She asks if she can look at my hands and as such, I hand them over, palms up.

Oh, she says. Oh. Quite a lot of karmic debt this time around. You work hard, very hard. But you are more than this. You are on this earth to be creative. To do something different than you are doing. And you are not yet listening. J, I call. Come listen to this. He walks over and she glances at him, says are you sure about this? And I momentarily panic. Perhaps she'll point to an affair on the horizon and these things are probably best learned in private. Two husbands? Four? It's endless, the trouble that might rest in my hands.

But no, nothing of the sort. She continues to talk about my lack of self care in my work, of not standing up for what I need. That this is not working for me. That it is time for something new. Quite a few personal items, nothing new, but all mostly right on. It's shiverish, this experience. Then she speaks of travel, of how I will make my home with little possessions wherever I am. And at that point she grabs J's hands briefly, and notes the same. Both of you, she says. You both have this.

I ask her if she shares the bad things she sees, and she tells me yes. That her code of ethics require it. But there is nothing bad to see in my hands, there is nothing bad here. Only opportunity. I smile broadly, as if I've done something to win this karmic lottery. I am proud of my hands, and I gaze at them adoringly. I am nothing if not a total dork.

She then asks what I do for a living and I tell her. She notes that finding people homes is extremely creative, and when I balk she says why do you Americans think the only creativity comes from paint? I laugh, and ask her if my karmic debt meant I was one hell of a slumlord in a previous life. Something like that. But that is for you to discover.

We share a connection, these lovely women and I. For a few moments my friends and our men fade away, I bask in the energy of these women. These women who know things.

Its time to go, my friends are sufficiently hennaed and the men are long out of beer. Those ten minutes have turned into an hour or more, it is time to go. As we say goodbye, hugs and kisses bestowed all around. And I turn back to the Indian woman and ask does the painting represent something? I meant to ask you your inspiration.

Of course it does, my dear. When I touched you I knew immediately what to do. It means it's time for a new beginning. It's time for you to listen.

And I couldn't agree more. Now I just need to learn how to get my brain to step aside and allow my heart to lead for awhile.

the one with the psychic

I had a friend years ago who was big on telephone psychics. She had one or two she swore by and after hearing about the readings my curiosity was finally peaked into motion. After some persuasion she convinced me to call and set up an appointment.

I was straddling the fence between cynicism and plain old crock of shitishness. Since I was raised in a strict christian home (otherwise known as Religious Persecution Disorder - which should be in the DSM in my opinion) so I was also somewhat convinced in some deep and lurking in my mind that I'd be opening my soul to the devil.

But curiosity won out. Devil one, me, zero. Or more accurately, Devil 14,952, me, zero. So I paid my $60 bucks and made an arrangement to call Joy (what the hell kind of fake psychic name is that) and at the established date and time, gave her a call.

At first it was the blah blahs...you are successful in your job (yawn) and you are a strong willed person (boring) and then she went over into you will meet a man (ears perking up a bit) and went on to describe him. Brown hair, red gold flecks in his beard.

She mentioned a shift in passion and focus in my work, and to be honest, over the years, she's turned out to be right, but at the time, again, yawn, whatever, I dig my gig, Psychic Joy, so am blah blah blahing you some more.

But then she The Thing. She said that a little spirit was waiting to be born. That she (yes, SHE) had tried to come into my world once already and I wasn't ready and didn't allow for it. And that she'd try again when I still might not feel ready, but that she was going to be more powerful the next time around. And that she's waiting, and watching, and she knows exactly when she's going to manifest herself. And that when she did, she would be mine. That obviously, I'd be sharing her with her father, but that her destiny this time around was to be my child. And that we had great things to teach each other.

I shuddered and coughed and my 29 year old single self was clearly, um, thanks, oh, and No Way, Because I Am Never Having Babies. Thank You Very Much. And then I forgot all about it and went back to martinis, dating, repeat. It was a few years before I met J. Brown hair, red gold flecks in his beard.

Five years later I got pregnant when I was on the pill. I wasn't ready. I didn't even know if I wanted to be a mom. But when it happened, I vaguely remembered this conversation and I dug out the tape recording she'd sent me of our session and listened to it.

And then I knew. This Was The Thing.

And Psychic Joy was right, this girl is mine. She and her dad have a glorious relationship, but she and I, we are mother and daughter. She is the lining of my heart. And she chose me. I'll believe that whether it's a crock of shitishness or not, because I like it and Psychic Joy said so.

I've never spoken to another psychic. I have intuitive friends, I've explored tarot, ruins, and some other mediums - numerology is next, as a matter of fact, due to the kindness of a friend.
But I'll never call a psychic again.

Because if it's not broken....play it as it lays, girl. Play it as it lays.