“If you’re looking for a sign from the universe, and you don’t see one, consider it a sign that what you really need is to look inside yourself.” ~Lori Deschene
I used to have no idea what I should do. About anything. I would go from friend to friend running polls:
Should I be a solo singer or in a group?
Is this guy the one?
Should I do this job or that job?
Should I stay in LA or move to Vancouver?
Should I get bangs?
On and on it went. It wasn’t that I wanted validation. It was that I had no clue what I should do. Or, if I did know, I would quickly override it with endless doubt. I’d loop:
“Maybe that isn’t the right decision. What if you’re wrong. Maybe it’s better if you do this.”
It didn’t stop, and I couldn’t get it right. If only someone would just help a girl out. Surely, they’d know what’s best for me.
There was a period of time (okay, years) when I had a serious psychic addiction. I would go from tarot reader to intuitive to tea reader to whatever else held the key to my life and purpose. Numerology, astrology, palm reader, random aliens, or angels—you name it, I doled out cash for it. It was my favorite hobby.
Years back, I went through a breakup, and I had very important questions like, “When is he coming back?”
I made some serious rounds through the LA tarot circuit. I found one reader that I bonded with at the now-closed Bodhi Tree (still grieving the loss…way longer than that ex). I liked her a lot, and because her readings gave me the kernel of hope I needed, she was the one, and I was hooked. It was like her cards magically tapped into my ex! In the first reading. She said, “Looks like you will be seeing him very soon.”
Then I saw him on Melrose.
Ding, ding, ding. She was the direct line, and I needed more. She just did it so well, tuning into my future.
Every time I saw her, I knew I would get exactly what I needed. A hit, a bump—I could relax, knowing all was well with my existence. My future was all figured out. The love would return, fame was destined, and money would soon pour in. So I started going more and more. She only worked a few times a week, but I often made sure my name was on that appointment list.
Then one day, it happened. It was the wake-up call that I needed but hadn’t prepared for.
I got to the Bodhi Tree before her shift (I knew her schedule, of course), and since they weren’t yet open, I hung out on the sidewalk waiting. I needed to get to her first.
My heart sped up with excitement when I saw her gliding down the sidewalk. The Tarot Queen, the one who held my future in her hands, walked toward me, obviously flanked with fairies and magic dust.
Though we were the only two people on the sidewalk, she took a few moments to see me. I smiled, waved with enthusiasm, and walked toward her.
Her gaze met mine, and we locked eyes. And for just a quick moment, she held my gaze. And then it happened. Her face kind of contorted, and she jumped back a bit. She was surprised or worse, scared when she saw me.
She was scared to see me.
Not the “OMG, I didn’t see you, and you startled me” kind but an “Oh no, this person is stalking me” look. She had panicked eyes. She was one thousand percent making a judgment call, and it was that I had gone way too far with the readings, and she was worried, perhaps for herself.
She had become my drug, and I had come for my fix—she was doling out oracles for a reality that did not currently exist. The future. She played it off that day (oh yes, I got my reading), but it was a sight I couldn’t unsee.
You know when someone you’re paying rejects you that something is off. It’s like those stories about drug dealers cutting their clients off in the hopes they go to rehab. You almost can’t believe it and assume it’s a myth until you get a first-hand account of one of these unicorn scenarios.
Of course, an addiction to the need to know isn’t going to land me a DUI, but it wasn’t leading me to self-confidence and rock-solid intuition. Besides, wake-up calls come in all different “hello, notice me” alerts.
Sometimes you just need a giant slap in the face with a deck of goddess cards to get you back on track.
Now just to be fully transparent, that was not the end of my psychic run. It was the end of my time with her because I hate to look bad, but it didn’t stop me from getting advice from wherever I could. However, it did make an impression.
And just to further drive the transparency home, when I was over that guy, there was another. And another that I sought advice for “out there,” whether it was with a Love Tarot deck or a friend that I thought somehow knew something I didn’t. Here’s what I didn’t know…
No one outside of yourself knows what your answers are.
Not a one.
Things just take the time they need to take, and we need to learn what we’re meant to learn. It’s the healing and completion that matter, not the time required.
My overthinking, obsessive mind and love of all things spiritual led me to an amazing teacher that helped me shift to my inner knowing instead of needing constant outside approval.
She was strongly opposed to psychics. She had spent many years as one but quit when she had the realization that people stopped living when they were told something about their potential future.
If someone hears “Your soulmate is a blond man with an accent,” they then cease giving anyone else the time of day and might miss an amazing dark-haired guy in the process. That blond could be coming, but he may not. Psychics are sometimes accurate, but they are not perfect. No one is.
Aren’t we all just swinging in the dark?
And things change. A clairvoyant might have seen a glimmer of something that you might quickly grow out of or change course from. Nothing is permanent, and we can change our current path in a moment.
My spiritual teacher used the term “corner store drug dealers” when describing psychics. They provide an easy-to-find, quick fix of the most addictive and popular drug (the who, what, where, when, and why) that comes in the form of your juicy future. One hit at a time.
After many busy years in that business, she didn’t want to co-sign it anymore. So she walked away because it removed people from their present moment. She wanted to encourage people to tap into their own intuition—something she believed only came from life experience in the “now.” She rarely ever told me something I couldn’t feel for myself, and she did her best to guide me toward my true instinct.
It was a gift I could never repay. Something I could never have gotten from a reading.
Does this mean I’m psychic-free? No, I’m not, but I get them for entertainment now. I like to get a reading on my birthday most years. I got one in New Orleans (isn’t that rite of passage?), and I’ll never turn down a tarot party. I’ll get one, but I don’t shift my life to fit the prediction.
Readings are also helpful when used as a real-life pendulum. Like, “Did I like what she just said? Do I want it to be true”? Great, then move in that direction regardless of any outcome. It’s just a clue to what feels right and good.
However, despite all this “look at how I’ve changed” wisdom, I recently fell prey to my old ways. This past August I went to a sought-after channeler to celebrate my birthday. As much as I wanted to just toss her expensive words into the fun psychic basket with the rest, I found myself in that all too familiar feeling of my past.
Maybe it was because it was hard to score an appointment, or because she has a high accuracy rate, or perhaps because I was feeling directionless in general. Regardless of why, when she told me that Nashville was where I’d be by Christmas, I just couldn’t shake her prediction.
Here’s the catch, my husband didn’t want to go, and he wasn’t budging. But, but, but…I needed to get there. After months of Zillow shopping and spinning out of any intuition I had left, I came up with a genius idea.
Go back for another reading. Say nothing and see if she still sees Nashville. She was, after all, in a trance, so she would never remember. When a spot opened on her waiting list, I jumped at the chance.
Drumroll. This session did not include Nashville in the near future.
I was so relieved. Not because I will or will not eventually live in Nashville. Or Milan or London or anywhere else in the world. But because the choice was mine again. It always was, but I had given my power away to someone else. She’s a lovely person too, by the way—this was all on me. We create our own destiny. We create our futures. No one else.
Only we truly know our own answers. And we can change our minds whenever we want.
Even my psychic relapse bestowed a gift. I am even clearer about what feels right for me now. I just needed a reminder that I am the only one making decisions for my life. So any future readings will be a fun check-point for my intuition. And believe me, I’d be thrilled if something came true, but no prediction ever has…
Well, I did see that ex on Melrose that one time. But other than that, nothing. Not a thing.