fyreflye
I never would have expected to see something like this in the Times.
Not fiction, but the writer's actual experience with a card reader.
http://tinyurl.com/kqfhogk
"...I was not sleeping, I felt eaten alive by anxiety. I started talking: not enough money, my family is a nightmare, my love life is a disaster… She stopped me. “It’s like you’re drowning in a birdbath. Stand up, it’s just a birdbath.”
She showed me the cards again, and what had at first looked to me like a representation of despair now didn’t seem so bad. The knights were in battle mode, yes, but the cards around them were harmless little twos and threes. They were fighting what looked like a guy juggling coins and three women dancing around with cups. Even that hanged man had a look of serenity on his face. Her cat, a beautiful Egyptian Mau, butted her head against my legs and I took a look around the apartment. Her bookshelves were not stocked with hokey books about angels or Gypsies; they were filled with psychological texts, Byzantine histories, gorgeous art books. Her furniture was minimalist and refined. The only hint at her day job was a painting of what is traditionally the first card of the tarot, the embodiment of joy and fearlessness: the fool.
Her reading taught me two things: With a change of strategy, I could get back in control of my life and, also, I wanted to learn how to do this..."
(If the Moderater thinks this belongs in another section, please move it. There's really no obvious place on AT for something like this.)
Not fiction, but the writer's actual experience with a card reader.
http://tinyurl.com/kqfhogk
"...I was not sleeping, I felt eaten alive by anxiety. I started talking: not enough money, my family is a nightmare, my love life is a disaster… She stopped me. “It’s like you’re drowning in a birdbath. Stand up, it’s just a birdbath.”
She showed me the cards again, and what had at first looked to me like a representation of despair now didn’t seem so bad. The knights were in battle mode, yes, but the cards around them were harmless little twos and threes. They were fighting what looked like a guy juggling coins and three women dancing around with cups. Even that hanged man had a look of serenity on his face. Her cat, a beautiful Egyptian Mau, butted her head against my legs and I took a look around the apartment. Her bookshelves were not stocked with hokey books about angels or Gypsies; they were filled with psychological texts, Byzantine histories, gorgeous art books. Her furniture was minimalist and refined. The only hint at her day job was a painting of what is traditionally the first card of the tarot, the embodiment of joy and fearlessness: the fool.
Her reading taught me two things: With a change of strategy, I could get back in control of my life and, also, I wanted to learn how to do this..."
(If the Moderater thinks this belongs in another section, please move it. There's really no obvious place on AT for something like this.)
