Make two wishes and say one of them aloud.
She put me on the spot there in her home, in her Grinch slippers and bathrobe. As with most mornings, this one was fate. On my biannual trip to the Bay Area this past winter break, my friend and I carried out our ritual of going to San Francisco for our favorite cookies in the world. After a hearty pastry breakfast, we made our way down the street to peruse our favorite bookstore. There are no more than nine blocks between Breadbelly, the bakery, and Green Apple Books. The walk provided us the opportunity to digest the copious amounts of carbs in our stomachs and wander through the lifestyle boutiques that carry artisanal housewarming gifts. Usually, we can stay focused on the itinerary at hand, but on this particularly temperate morning in January, a sandwich board sign halted us three blocks in and beckoned us up a teal set of carpeted stairs. It was a coincidence that we had been discussing tarot during the drive up to the city; this was our destiny.
“Readings by Faith: Psychic Advisor & Consultant.” Even though I remember asking, her name never made it into my notes. It could be Faith, although a Google Maps review says Chelsea. Either way, she was the fifth psychic to interpret and expose my truths. Before her was Joshua Hardy Barlow along the coast by the agates, who followed Michelle in Dimes Square, who came after the Merlin Trotter on his narrow boat, who I went to nearly a year after Gina in Old Town Goleta. As my mother told me after every visit, it’s all a bunch of hoo-ha. I believe her, but, while these five have not dramatically altered my future (at least to my knowledge), they have brought me insights into the winding garden path that is my life. For that, I’ll forever be grateful.
I met Gina, my first reader, about a month after graduating from high school. A friend came to visit, and in search of things to do on that classically gloomy California summer day, we settled on tarot appointments. In a very ordinary way, I departed high school tired and lost; over-eager competition left me feeling inadequate and ill-prepared for my supposedly promised bright future. I was much more anxious than I am now, and I suppose Gina saw this before even flipping over the first card. She told me my past relationships lowered my self-esteem, and it was good that I had recently purged them from my life. Gina also said that I say yes too much, and that saying no will get me far in life: far enough to marry for love and have three kids at 31—maybe even settle in San Diego, since water is my element. Those things I’m not so sure about, but she somehow knew I often went against my intuition for the sake of looking good on paper. I had a lot of purples in my reading, which happened to be my favorite color, and she kept emphasizing to me that I needed to write. After my friend got her reading, we compared notes and had a good chuckle about what our futures held. While skeptical, my overly angsty and emotionally susceptible mind took what it could to assure itself that everything would be fine.
The following spring, I spent time in London for a gap-year program. Whenever possible, my friend and I chose to walk home by the canal. On a remarkably radiant Saturday morning, there was a new boat in the water advertising the Merlin Trotter. How could we, as 18-year-olds living in a new city that needed our exploring, NOT go on this boat and hear what this man had to say? He urged me to stay creative and predicted that I would travel a lot—shocking, given my American enunciations.
His words alone had little meaning to me, but at the end of the summer, I stumbled upon Michelle. I spent that blistering August day alone wandering lower Manhattan. I had no agenda in mind, and I ended up at Chinatown Soup. Michelle’s name had been percolating in my TikTok feed, so I figured I would see what she was all about. The space greets you with a gallery, followed by a cafe space with a board advertising tarot readings. My seasoned past told me that I quite enjoy these types of things, so who was I to say no?
Before knowing anything about me except my name, Michelle saw the melancholy I clutched onto. We talked about how I was about to start college, and even though I had grown much more confident in my place, there was still a lingering uncertainty. She analyzed my birth chart and was able to distinguish my family’s dynamics. I also probably had a mentor, or at least a strong female figure in my life, who was a water sign. Actually, I probably had a lot of important people in my life who are water signs. She told me of my strength, grit, and creativity. She prompted me to keep writing. She even followed me on Instagram so that one day when I’m a successful writer she can see what I’ve done. I felt bad that she believed in me so much. The thing is, I was never really a writer in the first place, nor would I say I’m one now. Yeah, I write for post- sometimes, and I enjoy doing so, but I don’t think the reasons are the same ones that Michelle had in mind. Still, it was spooky how much of what she said aligned with the other two before her.
Unlike my previous excursions to these establishments, I did not walk out the door furiously recording the interaction in my notes app. I didn’t need to. Even more so than what Michelle said, I remember how I felt wading through the humidity back home. Someone, a complete stranger, saw my soul and recited it back to me as I knew it and more. How could I let go of that? I had just spent the year figuring out how I wanted to move through the world, but it took meeting Michelle to pause and see the progress I had made. The haters would say I just heard what I wanted to, but she also forced me to confront what I had been avoiding for far too long.
The middle of my second year of college saw some dramatic shifts, so, as was obligatory by that point, I was due for another psychic. At the beginning of last summer, on a road trip with a dear friend, we met Joshua Hardy Barlow. This time, they did a past life reading, no cards. This time, I admit, I listened to everything I wanted to hear. I had just finished one of the most emotionally tumultuous semesters of my life and wanted anything to confirm my hopes and dreams for the fall to come. Joshua Hardy Barlow proceeded to describe life after life. I was a man in all except the present, and each one aligned with random details from my present life a little too well. There was specific phrasing that I would use to describe my spring to my friend, and the words Joshua Hardy Barlow used were nearly direct quotes. As the fog burned off, we spent the rest of that temperate afternoon at a beach where they recommended looking for agates. Shuffling through the pebbles in silence, I ruminated on the forgotten lives that were my own and not who brought me to that beach in central Oregon.
***
At Faith’s dining room table, the wish I said aloud was that I hoped for a fulfilling summer. In recent history, summer had become synonymous with loneliness, and I was tired of feeling that way. I think Faith hoped for a juicier wish, one about the person I desired since she kept probing about it, but she got what I wanted to share. After the wishes, she declared I was a man in a past life, something I knew was true because of Joshua Hardy Barlow. My mother was once my sister—I already knew that because Michelle told me. She encouraged me to keep writing—sounds familiar. Faith reiterated details about my trajectory and character that I had heard before.
In all honesty, I completely forgot that I had heard some of the information before until I went back to my notes for this piece. However, from the snippets I remembered in the moment, I realized that these specific generalizations about my life, as true as they may be, are not valuable for their accuracy. Rather, they ask me to reflect thoroughly on how I function in this life. They connect who I am with who I aspire to be. I often ask, where are my ducks? Are they in a row? For a while, my ducks were confused and discombobulated. Finally, last fall, they aligned in their row, and everything felt right in my world. Leaving for winter break, I was worried about how long I could sustain them and if they would even last through the winter. After seeing Faith, I realized there was actually no need for concern. I’ve learned how to listen and adapt to find peace, which should not be confused with stagnant contentment. There are always ways I can be better, especially if I’m meant to be a writer, and that’s something I actively work toward every waking moment. Maybe I would have gotten to this stage regardless, but I truly believe that these five strangers who read some cards and looked at some energies should be credited for getting me to where I am now.
