A Writer and a Psychic

I just met with my writing group for the first time in several weeks.

I had three ideas for our writing assignment tonight.

1 – remember a time as a child or young person and you needed guidance, but didn’t get it.  Imagine going back as the guide you needed then.

Write your conversation.

2 – I could pull a tarot card, and we could take our inspiration from the image.

3 – I pulled out a book called Writing For Bliss, and flipped to a random exercise.  The exercise ended being writing an emotional scene from childhood.

We all agreed options one and three were too much like therapy, so I got out my newest, and also second oldest, deck.

The spiral tarot.  In the featured image of this post, the princess of swords in blue was the card that spoke to me as an eighteen year old, living on my own for the first (and only) time, wanting nothing more than to communicate with my mother on the other side of the veil.

My very first deck was gifted to me when I was 13 by Dad’s first girlfriend after Mom passed – a psychic from LA who happened to practice the same Buddhism we did.

Tina Turner’s Buddhism, watch What’s Love Got To Do With It to see what I’m talking about.

Anyhoo…

The first deck I ever bought myself was the Spiral Tarot, and my silly butt sold that deck to a person taking a tarot workshop with me, because they liked it.

ADHD and autistic people give away or sell things we love impulsively or because we like someone and like making them smile.  Or because we have no script for saying no in a way that won’t make people mad at us.

Anyhoo…

I pulled the princess of wands.  Childhood creativity and passions.  We laughed because all three of our choices ended up being writing about our childhood.

I told them I had given myself a reading with the deck a week ago, but it lacked the thrill I used to get.  I felt like I’ve lost my faith.

But tonight, in our small group of grown women, we all remembered what it felt like to be little girls again, free in our expressions, free to love whatever we love.

I wrote about roller skating on the carport singing Beatles karaoke, then about singing solo on stage for the first time – I was ten, singing The Greatest Love of All. 

The guy before me sang several songs, and his last song…The Greatest Love of All.

I was so emotional.  I should have sang So Emotional.  But the program had me singing The Greatest Love of All… immediately following the trained singer.

My throat was tight. My high notes croaked flatly.

I was so embarrassed.  That reminded me of being 18, singing along with Charlotte Church in my car. At a red light, my dry throat screeched and I laughed, tried again, until a young male voice shouted “STOP SINGING.”. I’m almost 43 and I still stop singing at red lights.

And that reminded me of my husband’s sweet smile when I sing.  My husband loves my voice, even when my notes fall flat or screech sharp.  My mom was proud of my voice.

I sing when I’m happy, and I’ve been singing a lot lately.

Maybe it’s time to start offering readings again.

Maybe I need to revisit my old loves, and see which ones still light me up.

My Dad’s first girlfriend told me I’d grow up to be a psychic and a writer.  So I did.

Now it’s time to tell myself what I’m going to be.  How can I combine my passions for singing, painting, tarot, and teaching?

Teaching tarot by singing a song while I paint my own cards?

Actually, that sounds fun…lol