Giving Tarot readings to strangers still astounds me. The amped-up energy at psychic fairs creates an atmosphere where anything can happen, and often does.
At the last festival, upon exiting the restroom, I weaved and dodged my way up a long congested aisle. Without warning, a man jumped in front of me. My hands jerked up in defense, and with both palms planted against his back, I said, “I’m behind you.”
Startled, the man whipped his head around, then flashed a bright smile. “Sorry,” he said, and stepped quickly to the side.
“No worries.” I waved and continued on, the incident immediately forgotten.
I rejoined my girlfriend at my booth. Joan said, “There was a . . .” she stopped mid-sentence, and I watched her eyes lock onto something to my right. I turned to find a couple standing at the corner of my table. I greeted the woman. Her partner’s head was bent, and he seemed quite taken with something on the cement floor. I waited, but neither spoke. The woman stared at her companion, as if willing him to speak.
I finally broke the awkward silence by speaking to the top of the man’s auburn-haired head. “Would you like to get a reading?”
The head slowly lifted, revealing a sheepish grin spread across a freckled face. Clearly embarrassed, the man said, “I think I’m supposed to get a reading with you.”
I laughed. “If you aren’t sure, it’s okay to walk around and check out the other readers. I’ll be right here if you decide to come back.”
His brows drew together, and he said in a gruff tone, “No, I don’t want to look around. I’m the guy that stepped in front of you, down there.” He nodded toward the other end of the building. “When you touched my back, chills went through me, so I followed you. I had to know where you were going. I don’t know what just happened, but it feels like I’m supposed to get a reading from you.”
I’d never heard this before. (I thought if I could have this effect on more men, I might not be single.) Trying to recover, I said, “I’ve never been told that I’ve given someone chills. Your story is a first for me, and I’d love to give you a Tarot reading.”
He glanced at his girlfriend, and then his eyes met mine. “I’m very sensitive and feel I’m empathic. I don’t usually come to events like this because the energy is too overwhelming. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her.” He tilted his head towards his partner.
Now, that, I’d heard before. I was still perplexed about sending chills through this man, as I hadn’t had the same experience, but our unexpected encounter thrilled me. It’s why I love what I do. The unpredictable nature of exchanges, and how people get drawn to my table, astonishes me. I’m living what I used to read about.
I held out my hand. “Hi, I’m Erin.”
He hesitated, then shook it with relief. “Hello, I’m, Rick.”
Rick’s Tarot reading was not only emotional, but it was filled with humor. At one point he asked if I was reading his mind, and at another, he inquired if I did relationship counseling.
During the proceedings, Rick’s girlfriend sat engrossed, and once we’d finished, she said, “Can I get a reading?”
Written By Erin G. Burrell
Author of That’s Why You’re Here
