the question in the heart

Bright-faced Day gleams off the white, watering the eyes. In like a lion and out like a lion: March in upstate New York.

I’ve been a diviner since the age of 9, when I first began telling fortunes with playing cards. I prefer the term “diviner” or “seer” to “psychic,” owing to personal beliefs about how seership works, but that’s a rant for another day.

Every month, I do a night of public tarot readings. While I practice other forms of divination, cartomancy is probably the most acceptable to the public due to its familiarity. More importantly, the infinite variety of card combinations allows me to do adequate readings without knowing the petitioner’s question.

And people do like to keep their questions to themselves. Think, for a moment, of what drives clients to that ridiculous and somewhat miraculous figure, the “psychic” with her hippie skirts and crystal ball. It’s not happiness, or certainty.

I ask clients to pick the question they want answered as they shuffle the cards. What I don’t say: it’s not the question you pick with your head, but the one that’s already in your heart that counts. That’s the one the cards answer, whether you want them to or not. In short, the spirits know your heart; this is why you needn’t speak your question aloud. The reader is simply the conduit for the information, not the purveyor.

Perhaps the key is knowing your own heart. If you did, chances are you wouldn’t need a reading. That’s what divination is best for, I think: articulating and facing what you know in your heart.

Can one truly divine the future? There’s no simple answer to that, but I personally don’t believe in predestination. It would be so simple if the universe were printed, bound, offered with some sort of publisher’s imprint, the answers available to anyone who can read. I see, however, the universe and its happenings as a dynamic work of co-creation. our choices and pathways affect our fate and others; so do others influence us.

The future isn’t a straight line; it’s a bowl of spaghetti, innumerable lines twisted up and around each other. This does not, alas, make for great sci-fi movies or books.

The future is simply a function of time-moved-forward, and time isn’t an element — either scientific or classical. Time is a measure of process, innumerable processes all going forward at their own rates, wheels within wheels.

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About whitecatgrove

The musings of a Druid priestess, singer, poet and musician in Upstate New York.
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