Many years ago, two friends of mine invited me to tag along with them to see a psychic in Reserve Mines, Cape Breton. We drove for over an hour, got lost and finally found the unassuming home of a frail old man, who had two stout sons for bodyguards. They showed us to the kitchen. I believed he was a Tarot cards reader, like myself. He seemed put off by my presence and asked me why I was there.
The bolder of my friends asked him if he could tell I had the gift too. He made a hmmmnn sound. Then he offered us a cup of tea, which is a Cape Breton custom when someone comes to your home for a visit. When I asked if he had cocoa because I didn't fancy tea, he said I was testing him and trying to be difficult, but nonetheless he instructed his older son to fetch me some hot chocolate instead of tea.
The old fellow didn't need Tarot Cards. He seemed to be able to look my friends in the eye and see exactly what was in their minds. After a very interesting chat,with each of us, he told us to flip our teacups down onto the saucers and proceeded to decipher the images of the leaves (in my cup, the shape of the remaining cocoa mass).
This man was incredibly gifted. He knew Mormons had left me a pamphlet in my light hoop (who leaves pamphlets in empty light hoops?) instead of the door handle like they normally did. This was happening while we were at the table, over an hour's drive away. He knew I had left a Chatelaine magazine on my kitchen table. He described word for word, arguments I would have with someone regarding a question I asked him about. He also said he knew he would end up in a wheelchair because of his chronic health problems and asked me to phone him when a certain boat went up for sale.
"How will I know which boat?" I asked the man.
"You will just know."
Then with a spur of energy and a dead serious gaze he stared into my eyes. "You will call me? My son is into things like that."
His words have stayed with me because I fear I have not sensed the right boat, or called at the right time. The Yoda-like wisdom he seemed to possess intrigued and frightened me, and yet the old man was so frail physically I fear now he may have passed on. And so I am haunted with doubt over a boat, a boy and a telephone call.
The bolder of my friends asked him if he could tell I had the gift too. He made a hmmmnn sound. Then he offered us a cup of tea, which is a Cape Breton custom when someone comes to your home for a visit. When I asked if he had cocoa because I didn't fancy tea, he said I was testing him and trying to be difficult, but nonetheless he instructed his older son to fetch me some hot chocolate instead of tea.
The old fellow didn't need Tarot Cards. He seemed to be able to look my friends in the eye and see exactly what was in their minds. After a very interesting chat,with each of us, he told us to flip our teacups down onto the saucers and proceeded to decipher the images of the leaves (in my cup, the shape of the remaining cocoa mass).
This man was incredibly gifted. He knew Mormons had left me a pamphlet in my light hoop (who leaves pamphlets in empty light hoops?) instead of the door handle like they normally did. This was happening while we were at the table, over an hour's drive away. He knew I had left a Chatelaine magazine on my kitchen table. He described word for word, arguments I would have with someone regarding a question I asked him about. He also said he knew he would end up in a wheelchair because of his chronic health problems and asked me to phone him when a certain boat went up for sale.
"How will I know which boat?" I asked the man.
"You will just know."
Then with a spur of energy and a dead serious gaze he stared into my eyes. "You will call me? My son is into things like that."
His words have stayed with me because I fear I have not sensed the right boat, or called at the right time. The Yoda-like wisdom he seemed to possess intrigued and frightened me, and yet the old man was so frail physically I fear now he may have passed on. And so I am haunted with doubt over a boat, a boy and a telephone call.
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