About 4 years ago, when I was working the front desk in a fancy salon on Capitol Hill my wacky boss arranged for my Christmas present to be a reading with her well-renowned psychic friend. It was really sweet, though at the point that she told me about it I was on my way out and not her favorite person working there, so it could have been an attempt to make me feel bad. Either way, having never had a real in person psychic reading ever before I was excited as well as nervous, but willing to take her up on it. I had to wait to be scheduled with the obviously well respected teacher and psychic, ending up on her appointment books for a blustery night in February. She lived in a neighborhood I was unfamiliar with at the time as well as giving somewhat incomprehensible directions and when I pulled up there were broadcasting vans from the local news stations parked almost in front of her really cute older house. Bewildered, I searched for a way to her front porch and was stopped by what I must presume was some kind of reporter who inquired as to my concern about the stability of the hill the houses were built on, to which I was completely uneducated about and increasingly concerned about. Once he determined I really had no idea what he was talking about, he tried to get a sound clip and let me go on my way. I went up to the porch and knocked on the front door, but strangely did not receive an answer. Perplexed even further, I peeked over and realized she was currently with a client so I lit up a cigarette and walked towards the bottom of the steps to wait. It took at least another 15 minutes, but then she wished her current guest goodbye and welcomed me in.
She was a hippie-ish woman in her late 30s or early 40s, dressed comfortably and somewhat in the typical northwestern style that requires fleece sweaters. Her place was filled with spiritual symbols and beautiful shrines, interesting art and character that one can only find in an older construction home. She invited me to sit down in a wing-back chair near a side table, next to what was apparently the chair she uses. There were ashtrays around, yet the air did not reek of cigarette smoke over the smell of sage and incense.
As she readied the tape recorder and moved into place for the session, I made myself as comfortable as one can in a relative strangers home whom you may never see again that claims to have psychic abilities, you know? I will do my best to convey the things she told me that evening as well as my unspoken reactions, though it covered over 90 minutes of tape and I have only listened to it once since then, so some of it is a little fuzzy. In the beginning, there was prolonged silence as she did whatever she had to do to prepare mentally, then giggling before she told me
“This is a pure place” then starting a chant that she recited clearly asking the spirits to assist her on my behalf that evening, then a soft, soothing hum before she straightened up and looked me in the eyes.
This is where I will end for the evening, as I do have a few more overdue posts up my sleeve to work on and it is Domestic Goddess Sunday, dontchaknow? Once again, please accept my apologies for the absence and be assured that you will be seeing me here much more often.
