As we woke up in the morning, he was sitting on the living room sofa, reading the book about tarot, throwing out some cards and checking up their meanings. I have never had my tarot readings done, which almost sound miraculous for me, when thinking of all the esoteric practices and theories I’ve been into. I picked out three cards and it started with a FOOL, reversed, which means a folly, a game, a trickster. Made me laugh.
Some hours later I was going through the Telegraph avenue – the most lively street in Berkeley, our own little Haight Ashbury – and there he was: a man with wide gray beard wearing reflexive psychedelic glasses, smiling right at me. Couldn’t be more accurate time for my first real tarot readings, after all this weird day of September 13. And it’s Friday.
He’s name was Wizard and he had an earring of a wizard holding a blue crystal in his hand. He’s been reading tarot for 40 years, since he was 14. He claims his mission in this life, to invest positive energies to other people, because positive thinking is what creates positive results.
And wasn’t I just figuring some hours ago, suffering from mild dehydration from last nights two glasses of white wine, that I’d need to establish a positive routine, with some decent exercise, healthy food and regular meditation daily?
The first two cards I placed on the table were exactly about that – healing myself, clearing my soul from the past experiences, and about healthy living. He even mentioned the word hydration, to drink a lot of water! How could he know?! And the bigger messages followed, confirming my path and motivating me to dig it in further.
Thank you, mysterious tarot!