Travelers, there is no path; paths are made by walking.
~ Antonio Machado
I am grateful today that, after many years of hovering on the edges, dodging, denying, hemming, hawing, and arguing over semantics, I am at peace with knowing I am psychic.
I have been conflicted for years about it because that word is so loaded with baggage. Most of it is ridiculous, unsavory, and embarrassing to me. If this wasn’t a post about gratitude, I could write a five page essay on the ways I despise the image portrayed by people like “The Long Island Medium.”
The mainstream media, and before that, the Church, has always presented us as strange, frightening, even damned.
But we’re not the crazy, dangerous, ignorant misfits we are so often portrayed to be. Nor do we have superpowers that can know in a glance everything about you — from what you are thinking right now, to where you misplaced your great-grandmother’s earrings, to who you will meet and marry in six years.
Sadly, there are plenty of psychics (that might, or might not actually be) that prey upon and make money from that ignorance; but they sow the seeds of real trouble. They alienate the public from us as being real human beings (with plenty of blind spots of our own). If we were that powerful and all-knowing, don’t you think we’d all have won the lottery by now?
For years, I admitted, less intimidatingly, to be “intuitive.” Not an intuitive, mind you; even that is too edgy for polite company. Like many people, I would have dreams, déjà vu, and premonitions that were very clear messages, sometimes warnings. I was reassured that this was normal on my mother’s side of the family; it was well known that many of our Irish ancestors had the second sight. (Little did I know what that really meant until later).
However, life has a way of grinding down our false barriers. Although I attempted to mitigate myself by claiming only my Tarot skills, which I used to pretend were acceptably left-brained, the truth usually, eventually, works its way out.
It started with my guides who, for years, I mostly experienced as just random and very vague gut feelings.
But sometimes in the middle of a Tarot reading, I would get a real flash. I would actually “hear” someone or something give me information that might seem completely off topic.
I began to trust this, and as I did, I discovered I had a team or, as I now fondly call them, my entourage. They are unique individuals, human and non-, and each possesses special gifts. They are eager helpers, and love to be called on for their assistance.
From there, the doors have just kept opening and opening. So now, even if I am just trying to stick to the cards, peoples’ ancestors will sometimes appear with messages. Or I will “see” an animal standing behind the querent, protectively embracing them, or the spirit of a child that wants to be known.
I prefer to use the cards, because my mission is to help my clients see for themselves. I don’t really want my sessions to be a one-way download from Mystery. I find such dynamics tend to make people the passive recipients of something closer to entertainment than enlightenment.
Instead, I find the Tarot encourages intimate, interactive conversation. I want my client to begin see what I see, and the cards are a reliable, effective tool to expedite that.
So today, I give thanks for how much more fun, adventurous, compassionate, and rich my life is, knowing and owning that I am psychic. I hope that soon, you will know that you are, too.
If you would like to meet a bunch of people who know they are psychic, come to Dancing Moon Books in Raleigh today from 1 to 5pm, for their annual Psychic Fair.