7.06.2010

Tarot Rain


Every once in a while I am given the happy surprise of a dear but unexpected face in an audience. This happened in New York City at what must be the best Barnes and Noble for a writer, at Lexington and 86th. They have an intimate and elegant auditorium devoted to readings; that in itself was wonderful. But then someone raised her hand, and there was my friend Terry Iacuzzo with a question: What does your future hold? I had to laugh, and introduce her to the audience.

Terry is a psychic; she reads Tarot cards. I have visited her, from time to time, for many years. To put this in context--as I can just see your eyebrows raising and your Flake-0-Meters spinning: my mother was born and raised in Casablanca, Morocco. She saw a card reader every single week for years. I grew up hearing about visits to Madame Dupres; my mother adored her. I even met her once, and she read my cards, but I remember only an impression of the color and variety of the deck. Plus that I would marry someone with brown hair. Naturally I just assumed everyone had their cards read as a matter of personal maintenance, like getting your teeth cleaned regularly.

When I first met Terry, and she spread the cards before me, I was overwhelmed with a memory of their weird beauty. Then came the magic of turning things up that turn out to be true. After I had known her a few years, Terry wrote a funny and enchanting book called Small Mediums at Large, about growing up in a family of psychics, and living in Greenwich Village in the sixties and seventies. It would make an amazing movie, by the way--I'm thinking Pedro Almodovar here.

I didn't see Terry for years while she wrote and published her book. But I visited her after she popped up at Barnes and Noble, and I was once again entranced by the beauty of the cards, the glimmers of the future, and, mostly, by Terry's warmth, wisdom, and extremely dry wit. She's an edgy psychic. I asked her about the green glass buddha glowing in her window--she's Sicilian--and she said, Oh, that's just for people like you; you want to see things like that! True. The place could be crawling with santos; I'm happy to see any sort of artifact of belief.

Everything Terry said, as I turned over the cards, clicked with things I've been feeling myself: how this cycle of change is not over, how I will be moving again....so many changes coming, large and important ones. Of course, when you ask about the future, you always want to know three things: how the children will fare, and how love will fare, and how work will fare.

I described visits to Terry in Slow Love, how she lives on the fifth floor of a walk-up in Little Italy, and how the sun pours in the kitchen window over the cards on the table, how her tub sits by the refrigerator--those old style apartments are so lovely. Her cat, who used to climb on her lap when the readings turned to love, is gone, sadly. Still, it was a hot day, and the sun shone brilliantly.

Just as we got deeply into things, it started to rain. And I don't mean a sprinkle, I mean a downpour. But the sun was still shining--brightly--and the sky was a radiant blue. Huge raindrops were streaming and sparkling through the air. We were so startled that we left off the cards and stood at the window, watching, listening to the rain splatter off the metal fire escape and drench the trees below, and feeling the warmth of the sun on our faces. Terry threw open the window. I had my camera and did my best to capture the stunning scene--it seemed important to do so--but it was nearly impossible. You can see the hot glare of the sun, though, and see the bright sheen on the fire escape across the way. We couldn't find a rainbow, though.

After five minutes, the rain stopped, the sunshine glimmered on the wet leaves and the wet railings, and we returned to the table. I said, What just happened? What was that about? And Terry said, Pick one card. I turned up The Hierophant. Ah, said Terry, The Holy One. His fingers are raised in benediction--two up, two down. He is a bridge between Heaven and Earth. We shivered, and laughed, and I felt joyously, profoundly lucky to have witnessed such a rainfall full of sunshine. I can only hope my days shimmer with such miracles.

16 comments:

Layanee said...

Sometimes we don't take the time to see the miracles around us. I love the shimmer of the green glass buddha with raindrops beyond.

Pamela Terry and Edward said...

How well I remember our Halloween carnivals when I was a little girl. My favourite part was the Card Reader tent. Even though, located somewhere in a part of my consciousness that I was loathe to acknowledge, was the fact that the extravagantly dressed "card reader" was actually the dark-haired wife of our church music director, I was completely enthralled. I can only imagine how fascinating it must be to see someone for real!

" a rainfall full of sunshine". We should all be so lucky.

Sherry said...

Hello Dominique,
I enjoy your blog. I am looking forward to reading your book. Please advise if you are coming to the Toronto (Canada) area.

My Dog-Eared Pages said...

Tarot Rain + The Hierophant. Just lovely. I enjoyed every word!! ; )

Claudia Juestel said...

Dominique, I really love your blog, your personal approach and your most charming vulnerability. It certainly stands out from the rest.

Cheers,

Claudia

mary said...

In my wildest dreams (being raised a good Catholic) did I ever suspect that I would consult a psychic. But Nila is the adviser who has been most in tune with my spirit and the best counselor in my attempts to become myself. So I do understand your post of today. Our path is discovered in so many unanticipated ways.
Thanks. Mary

Madgew said...

I look at my cards once every 6 weeks when I have my shamanic healing. Have always led me in the right direction. Thanks for your interesting blog and photos.

Barbara Hammond said...

Love this post! I have seen psychics and tarot readers over the years and there is a big difference between the good and the bad ones! I'm always amazed at the good ones, and wonder how they could possibly know what they know about me before we even begin! I'm on the verge of a big birthday and have lots of changes I already know about looming... maybe it's time to get a reading.
Thanks!
Barbara

the hungry redhead said...

Reminds me that there are possibilities everywhere around us

karensandburg said...

i'm so glad you're writing about slowing down. i have an organic garden in a community garden and am soothed by the task. as i was weeding the other day, it struck me that everything is love, even weeding because the weeding is for love of the plants. i've missed your voice since H&G and am glad i get to hear it again...

Susan Thornton said...

Blessed, blessed, blessed be.

c said...

Always amazed at how easily you put into words our everyday moments.

Most people miss digesting them, you point them out.

And I, for one, smile in recognition at just about every one of your posts.

:-)

Joan McKniff said...

Thank you for this window view much like my friend's in a 5th floor walk up, which I can no longer handle. So I can visit NYC, the Met and more, but I long for my window next to the sofa bed with my homey view of NYC - in the big city but also in my private place thinking about the lives in all the other windows.

austere said...

Something magical and fleeting about this post; perhaps it the sunshine and the rain.
But it stays with you.

le style et la matière said...

I'm glad to delve into your posts and find a shared feeling in so many of them. There is beauty, fragility, and spirit in every sense.

Sara said...

Thanks so much for this beautiful post that opens the heart and soul to all possibilities. I, too, hope "my days shimmer with such miracles."