When we were in New Orleans I went to see a psychic! The meeting was a gift from my aunt. She and her best friend had had their cards and auras read when they’d visited before and I loved listening to their experiences, so we decided to find someone to read me. Plus, it sounded like a fun way to kill a little time between daiquiris.
So we found a little voodoo shop where they offered readings and I sat down with ________. I can’t remember her name. Can you believe it? That’s either a really bad sign or a really good sign.
Either way, I spent half an hour with this friendly older lady who closed her eyes tightly and tried to “feel my energy.” I like astrology and will happily read about it from time to time, and I can suspend my disbelief with things like ghosts and mediums and the existence of auras. I’m not a believer nor a detractor. I’m just along for the ride and happy to participate and explore.
So it was fun to watch this sweet woman try to pick up clues about me, either from my tone of voice or the information I was giving her, or because of her innate ability to read my energy. I don’t really care which it was, and perhaps they’re one in the same. Regardless, it was a fun self-indulgence to have someone talk to me about myself for 30 minutes straight.