So, I was at a friend’s place the other day and she was urging me, again, to get back into the Tarot. (Bless her!) Again, I said it’d been too long… that I needed practice… and I explained about a ‘game’ I used to use to practice and test myself, in which I’d have the querent (the person seeking information or insight) think of someone I could not know or have even herd of, and I’d use the cards to try to tell them about that other person or the relationship they shared.

She said that she’d, coincidentally, been thinking of someone she hadn’t seen in years, and that it was too bad I couldn’t use someone else’s deck. I said that I would, time-to-time, do so, and she surprised me by bringing me hers.

Of course, I was honored that she’d lend it, because whether or not I believed in all the mumbo jumbo people say about divination, she did, and lending me her deck was a ‘big deal’. Unfortunately, there’s nothing quite as intimidating as being handed a deck you’ve never seen before and being expected to come up with ‘facts’. So, I hesitated until I realized that if I didn’t do it I’d, essentially, have to call ‘bull shit’ on myself, and admit that my talk of getting back into the cards was just that… bullshit!

So, I ‘winged it’, just laying out a half dozen or so cards and telling her what I saw in them…

… I’m getting male… large framed… facial hair… older in spirit or experience, if not years… uses tools… like a pool cue or something long… something about them being sharp minded or sharp tongued… a doorway… and they’ve ‘passed on’ or died…

Meanwhile, her eyes had grown large and round, she’d started grinning, and covered her mouth with her hand. ‘Okay,’ I said, not daring to go any further in case that grin was caused by my ‘messing up’, ‘am I getting anything here?’

To my amazement and amusement, she said that it was a male, that he was considerably older, that they’d played pool together, that he was tall and had a beard, that he’d often said she had a ‘rapier whit’, that she’d been standing in a doorway the last she’d seen him, and that he’d died many years ago, but that the nature of his death had left her wondering whether he might, actually, still be alive somewhere.

‘Sheeeeit!’ I thought, once again amazed by how generous the cards can be. After all, I’d have been impressed to have gotten that much from the cards when I was in practice and using them on a daily, let alone when I’m so rusty it’s laughable.

Later, I couldn’t help thinking about the fact that my friend has been offering to throw a psychic party for me… to introduce me to a bunch of people who are dying to get readings done…  and are willing to pay! Each time she mentions it, I hesitate, worried that I won’t remember card positions or meanings, or that I will ‘mess up’ and not be able to give them what they want. Not only am I bothered by that because of my ego, which obviously wants to be ‘right’, but more importantly by my conscience, which says that the cards aren’t about ‘money’ but about helping people, and that I ‘have’ to give them value for their dollar.

So, I keep saying I need to practice… but it seems that practice isn’t necessary… and, maybe, wanting to practice is simply my way of putting off the ‘risk’ that comes with reading… with the ‘responsibility’…?

Anyways, the up-shot is that this friend and I are getting together next Tuesday to get a Tarot reading done by a local ‘psychic’, and I’m going to tell her ‘yes’. We’ll book a get-together, have a few friends in and do some readings, and see how it goes. Worst case scenario is that I get some practice and we have some fun, and best case scenario is that I end up with a couple of people who’ll be interested in getting some more readings done.