I read tarot cards, and have done so for over 30 years. I don’t read for people a lot, and very rarely for myself; I can’t be objective on the subject of my own life. I don’t enjoy reading for strangers, and if I do, I charge a much, much higher rate for people who creep me out, but I do enjoy reading for friends in the right setting. My besties and I have been reading tarot and consulting the runes and animal cards for a long time. It’s fun; it’s the esoteric sciences at their best; it focuses our attentions and energy. Plus, we happen love it, all of it, the woo-woo-ness, the witchy-ness, the magic, the patterns that repeat, all revealed in the cards, or rune stones. That one, again?! Must be telling you something, GF!! Y’think?!!
In the early 80s a friend, one of the other coat-check girls at Studio 54, gave me a name, Kevin J., to call for an astrology and tarot reading. I wanted to do something different for my upcoming birthday; this fit the bill perfectly. His apartment was in the teens in Chelsea, and when I walked in, I remember thinking, ‘Holy shit, girl, whatchu got yourself into now?’ It was a railroad configuration, a series of narrow, boxy rooms, several of them one after the other, although I didn’t go – or ever get – past room two. I could see further into the apartment’s murky depths (the windows were heavily curtained), but was immediately struck by the fact that the walls were painted black; I was also, suddenly, surrounded by more interesting objects and symbols than I’d ever seen outside either the British or Hermitage museums. The décor was high end Hollywood vampire film meets Celtic witches lair, meets Buddhist temple, meets Maxibles and Mandibles, a long-time famous store near the Museum of Natural History that closed in 2011, may it rest in peace.
It was something else. It was fabulous, and so was he. Kevin long ago moved to a light, airy apartment in the same neighborhood, but oh I still remember with great fondness those first few enchanted sessions, because therein began a relationship that lasts to this day. I have sent many, many friends to Kevin J., and I studied the tarot with him for a year in the early 90s. It was, and remains, a wonderful series of memories; Kevin is a prince, and I am so grateful to have met him. And, I don’t read tarot often because when I have – for strangers – it has been such a mixed bag, why do it? Why go there? My time and attention matter, to me at least, and if you’re going to be a dick about it (the self-righteous rage or outrage – it’s blasphemous! – some people feel toward this stuff is hugely boring), I’m out.
Case in point: I read for a fund raiser once, about 5 different groups of people came to see me in the reading room of an upper east side brownstone. One was sure this was going to condemn us both to hell, me especially, but the rest were okay, fine, no biggie until a woman came in with her mother. We chatted, and when I read for her it was clear from the cards that she was pregnant, or soon would be. Nope, I just got married, and I don’t want kids, neither does my husband. Huh. Maybe a step-child is coming into your life? Nope, first marriage for us both, and no other kids. Heck we’re only twenty-seven (or whatever)!! This went on for about 45 minutes; I used several different tarot spreads, and, finally, after offering numerous scenarios (maybe a new business? a new home – it’s something big, a big change), she said, ‘well that’s enough for me’ (they both got up to leave), ‘and by the way, hahahahahahahahahahahahaha, I am pregnant, we were just testing you ‘cause it’s all dangerous nonsense, and you shouldn’t do this kind of thing, we only did this to see what you would say’. I bit my tongue (what I would say if I weren’t in this lovely home trying to raise funds for a non-profit, is this: what a dick move, you asshole), packed up my self and my cards, and vamoosed.
The thing I always start any reading with is that the tarot, like the runes, doesn’t tell you anything you don’t already know. It simply affirms it. Affirmation is a good thing in an anxious age, a necessary thing. This affirmation by the cards or stones is, however, challenging for some, particularly those whose shit is unexamined, because then the tarot will simply confuse or dismay, provoke insecurities, and make little Johnny or Janey, hold on harder to what is very possibly a state of denial. Oh, the humanity. I’ve been thinking about this because a friend asked me to donate something to a local charity event, and I offered a reading, which she has labeled ‘A Tarot Reading From the Giggling Witch’. JHFC. Girl, have you met me? But I’ve said nothing. We’ll see. Fingers x’ed!
