I was a teenager before I realized that not everyone had extra-sensory abilities.
I’ve heard this repeatedly from other psychics.
There were plenty of stories in my family and in my community about supernatural events, so I just figured everyone was in the know. Ironically, I wasn’t.
I was a high school junior before I’d ever heard of tarot cards.
A classmate who was a senior brought his deck over and explained what it was. I didn’t even know that my ability to see the future was called prophecy [he enlightened me]. I certainly had never heard of divination.
I was in my 20s before I’d heard the term Psychic Fair.
A coworker who was part fascinated/part obsessed with my paranormal abilities asked me to accompany him to one being held at a VFW hall.
I was fascinated by the variety of goods and services promoted at the small gathering. One section held a group of tarot readers. Several individuals were selling incense and gem stones that were purported to possess and/or accomplish all manner of things.
“Here, come and see this,” he said, dragging me to a corner opposite the entrance, “Kirlian photography.”
“What?”
He gave me a quick explanation and shoved me in line.
“Aren’t you going to get one too?”
“Oh, yeah, sure.”
I didn’t realize it at the time but I was being exploited.
I stood in line waiting to have some woman interpret the color around my face.
As I stared at the photo, I was reminded of some of my dad’s early attempts with the Kodak Instamatic camera he’d gotten for Christmas when I was six.
“You are growing,” she said imperiously. ‘See this green? It means growth.”
I’m a tree?
“See this edge color here?”
I stood on my toes so she could show me a sliver of burnt orange that sat atop white.
“You are young.”
Well, no shit, Sherlock. I can tell that by looking in the mirror.
“You will get what you want in life. God will make sure of that. But not necessarily what you need.”
What?!
She elaborated, suggesting that it would be God who would decide what was best for me – and I was simply a victim being dragged along for the ride. A victim with no say whatsoever in my own future. That regardless of how hard I worked toward a car that wouldn’t constantly break down on me, I wouldn’t get it because God had decided that since I only needed a car…and I had one…that was it.
NEXT!
I left that psychic fair really pissed off. In fact, for years I was pissed off. Why did God get to decide what I need?
During part of my childhood, I’d lived in abject poverty and I felt that God and I were going to have to have a serious talk about want versus need. After all – do clothes that don’t fit still count as clothes? Or a roof that leaks so that water is dripping on your bed?
Rather than seeking a second opinion, I continued to work toward my goals, determined that I would damned well get what I wanted in addition to what I needed.
Fast forward two decades.
I was on my way to the mall for a new pair of boots when that day at the Psychic Fair popped, quite vividly, into my mind.
I could see that woman with her overly bleached hair (champagne blond). She stood five foot eight and weighed approximately 170. She wore a cream colored angora sweater and light brown polyester pants. She had brown patent shoes with a gold buckle. She wore lipstick that was more orange than red and too much pancake make-up.
Laughter bubbled up from my stomach. Not because of any sense that I’d shown her – and gotten what I wanted after all, but because I suddenly realized that, regardless of what her intent may have been in telling me what she did, I now understood the meaning.
What you want and what you need can be the same thing!
I’ve spent the last several years moving more times than I’d like. The need for organization became paramount. As part of organizing, I was forced to evaluate whether or not the stuff we were packing was stuff we really needed.
How many sets of sheets did I really need? How many sets of towels? How many kitchen gadgets?
What about the stuff that no longer suited us?
Outdated art work or furniture that no longer served our needs.
So I purged. And purged. And purged.
We moved from Colorado with about 1/3 of what we’d moved from California with. And when we left Colorado, we had about half of that even.
No matter how much clutter we got rid of, we found the ability to purge more.
And as we cleared clutter our lives filled with stuff I really had always wanted.
Peace. Sophistication. Love.
All these years later – I had what I needed and not much more (I suppose – depends on perspective, right?) but it was exactly what I’d always wanted.
Maybe God looked into my heart all those years ago and saw that.
And it’s what I got, what I wanted., the same as what I needed.
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