I don’t read tarot ‘anymore,’ meaning I’m happy to throw down some papers for ya but I’m very much out of practise and it’s all about practise. Screw talent.
Except for what I’m getting ready to tell you about.
Some years ago, I was in the habit of regularly casting runes -I’m so not kidding or reading tarot for people each and everyday. I’m of the mind you should always be compensated for your work but I didn’t consider it work, so I never went that route. At any given point, I had some kind of easy divination tool on me and if’n I didn’t, I’m sure a nearby book or let’s face it, me putting you into alpha and reading your aura might do.
-are the new readers gone yet? How about the regulars?
Let’s back up a tic. I’m one-half Irish and one-half Russian-Jewess. This tells you everything you need to know about me by stereotype, alone. I’m also American, so sorry, but at least I was raised by a quasi-Canadian who grew up a couple of miles from Canada, in the UP. You get that or you don’t.
Back to my superstitions.
I was pished one holiday and my auntie Colleen -real name had yet again invited over her idea of what man I should marry. My mother The Duchess agreed because his property was over 2,000 acres and he owned a small plane that he also knew how to fly. Never mind that he was the leader of a militia group who happened to be anti-Semitic, anti-black, anti-Italian and whatever else you could come up with, I’m fair-certain. Those bitches is armed, yo.
Where was I?
He brought his 9yo son from a previous marriage, ‘She was a slut.’
I don’t recall why I brought out the tarot. Perhaps it was because I wanted to scare them off. Perhaps somebody asked. -as they often did Perhaps Mr. Bigot, Esq., heard that I read and thought to make sport of me. I whipped out a deck. -tarot readers usually have several and learn that certain decks work best with certain types of queries or maybe with certain readers’ moods. Or they have one. Or they create their own as they level-up as members of the Golden Dawn. Whatever.
Runes pretty much state what they have to give and say ‘feck off.’
I pulled out my daily deck and by daily I mean, my go-to, very general, no particular feelings on which way to lead kind of deck.
To my surprise and near horror… Bigot’s Kid had the Sight. Granted, he was pre-pubescent and gods-almighty, he needed all help from hands seen and unseen in this life to which he’d been born but nevertheless, his aptitude was a bit spooky. I was truly afraid for what I saw coming off of him and out of him, was Truth and there was his father, Sauron. I kept trying to dissuade the lad from reading and tried to bring others into our activity, whilst sneaking glances at the Evil One and trying to suss if the boy was in danger from this but his father remained blissfully ignorant. To him, it was a game.
Thank the gods for small favours. The boy is now a man. I hope he grew up listening more to the voices in his head than from his father’s lips.