Wolfie Goes To Class

There is a store not too far from me that I really enjoy. It’s the sort of place that you can spend an hour in, or an entire afternoon. It has jewelry, books, music, pendulums, crystals, fountains, statues, carvings, drums, candles, masks, greeting cards, tarot cards and a full staff of psychics. The store has big airy windows looking out onto a small meditation garden. The people are friendly and there are two lovely cats in residence.

Every month this store sends out a list of its activities. There are ongoing sessions in A Course In Miracles, various book signings and talks, and astrology classes. One activity caught my eye this month. An introductory course to Tarot was being offered. I have no clue why this caught my fancy, but it did. Not being one to argue with such “flights of fancy” I made sure I was there for the class.

I arrived just as folks were meandering into the classroom for the class. It was a small group – 8 people including me. The instructor was wonderful. She had on a big loose purple shirt and black sweat pants. Her earrings were long and dangly – a series of spirals and stars and knots and beads that brushed her shoulders when she moved her head. She had unruly curly hair cut short in the front and longer in the back. There was just a kiss of gray here and there. She wore big glasses – very 80s. And she shone with a clear and pure energy.

She talked to us, she didn’t lecture. She didn’t make the Tarot Cards into some lofty phenomenon that only very special people could interpret. She portrayed them as a learning tool and a teaching tool. She emphasized that they are guidelines, not “fortunes” and that interpretations are very personal and individual, dependant on both the reader and the person having their cards read. She was very positive. There wasn’t an ounce of negativity in her body. I thoroughly enjoyed listening to what she had to say.

What was more amazing to me though was the other seven people in the room. There was a pregnant woman who looked like life had treated her a bit harshly at times. She wore a diaphanous flared dress with a floral pattern. Most of the time she kept her hands on her swollen belly and had a bit of a far-away look, as if she were in communion with her unborn child. She somehow made me think of the fairey folk.

Next to her sat a very tiny, thin woman with pointed features. She had an anxious look about her, but there seemed to be an underlying strength. She had been raised a very observant Catholic and brought up that things such as Tarot cards are the work of the devil. One day she saw a deck of Tarot cards in an airport and bought them. She looked at each picture, but had no idea what they meant. She wanted to find out more. She had her deck with her. It was a lovely Renaissance deck with beautiful symbols and colors.

Next to the ‘recovering’ Catholic was a very quiet black woman who spoke with an accent. She spoke very little, so I was unable to hone in on what area of the world that accent originated in. She was calm. She said thank you and asked permission, but was not at all meek or timid. She was a woman sure of herself.

In the second row was a man who was already familiar with some aspects of the Tarot. He works with a mythical deck based on various Greek myths. He was very outspoken and it turns out he is a psychotherapist. When asked if he used his cards with his patients, his answer was no – because he is a Christian counselor. He only uses them for himself.

Next to him was a very well groomed couple – mother and son I believe. She was very rigid in appearance and not the sort of person I would have thought would be interested in “mystical” things. She looked to be one of those structured sorts that need everything in neat boxes. The son was gay and also very well groomed – every hair in place and his clothing bore the signature of very studied casualness. But he was searching for something. Perhaps he thought he could find that something in the Tarot cards. I got the impression that mom was there for moral support.

Last there was another young woman who also was already experienced in reading cards. She has spirit guides that she recognizes and works with. She was quiet and conservatively dressed. I got the feeling that she may be a bit uncomfortable with her innate psychic abilities.

At the end of the class the instructor gave mini readings. Each person picked one card and got an interpretation. When it came to me, 3 cards came out. I tried to get only one, but two more jumped out onto the floor. I got the 10 of cups which was interpreted to mean that I was at a good place in my life – had earned this good place and should enjoy it. I got the Queen of Swords which the instructor said meant a very strong woman. This would be the sort of woman that says “Come on – I’m ready for you”. She said that this person is sometimes mistakenly identified as a bitch. I began laughing. I have been described in just that way (strong, tough, bitch) many times. OK. Maybe there is something to these cards. I don’t remember the suit/number of the last card, but it was a miser. Since I drew the card upside down, she interpreted it to mean that my money struggles are coming to an end. OK. I HOPE there is something to these cards!

I left feeling really good. What an amazing group of people I had just been a part of. What a cool teacher. Pretty smart cards, too! Tomorrow I think I’ll return to the store and search for my own deck of cards – one that calls out to me. And I’ll get a book to help me start learning some of the symbolism…..until I get to go to the next class with this teacher…..and another great group of people. I can hardly wait.