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Excerpt from Chapt.5, Page 7. 'Tarot - The Lost Reading'
The Tale of the Lost Tarot Reading. Sometimes things happen in life for which there are clear, rational explanations, but that leave one with no idea of what actually transpired. The sort of event wherein one goes through the looking glass, reports what one sees to a number of witnesses, then returns to this reality without knowing anything, while to the spectators everything makes sense.
If that is somewhat hard to follow, it is because I am in the position of attempting to describe surrealistic landscapes using tools for purposes for which they were not intended. One may paint a picture of a boat but a palette and paintbrushes are inadequate for the purposes of building that boat.
Enough of descriptions of the processes involved; I will tell the story as it developed.
It was summertime and we had invited people for a day long party. These affairs ran from around 10 am. until the small hours of the next day. There was always a core group of friends that would stay the course, while others would come for a few hours before leaving to be replaced by yet more people.
By mid-afternoon everyone was comfortably relaxed. Groups of people were scattered around the gardens and rooms of my house, conversing, listening to music, generally enjoying themselves.
When, hand in hand, Mark and Sally arrived, they were quite out of step with the general mood. They were tense, wired for sound. Without preamble they fronted me with a request that I read the Tarot cards for them. I was not at all interested in going to work, so gently refused.
They went out into the garden only to return with Anne, Mark's sister, who then put their case to me, stressing that it was important to them. How could one refuse?
The entrance hall had a corridor that ran right and left, while opposite the front door were five broad steps that led to rooms at the rear of the house. For some reason I chose to lay out the cards on those steps. I sat on the left side, Mark and Sally sat to the right and the cards were displayed between us.
I remember starting the slow breathing pattern that allowed me to dissociate myself from my surroundings, letting my right brain immerse itself into the symbols contained in the pictures on the cards. My last conscious thought was how the sunlight streaming into the foyer had enriched the colours, drawing me into the the unfolding story.
As though awakening from a sound sleep, I looked up to see that we were surrounded by twenty or more totally silent people. Looking back at the cards I saw that the sun had shifted its angle by several degrees, so quite some time had passed.
Bemused, I was barely able to understand that Mark and Sally were thanking me, and making for the door. Seeing the looks on their faces did nothing to reassure me. Despite their thanks, they looked as though they had been shaken to the core. Then they were out of the door and away.
Fearing that I had committed a social gaffe, I turned to the crowd for moral support. Nobody moved, and I faced a wall of blank faces. I asked what had happened but no-one had an answer for me. Then Peter, a close friend, put his hand on my shoulder in a reassuring gesture, and told me not to worry as everything was fine. Later, Anne came to thank me, saying that I had solved a troublesome problem for Mark and Sally.
Several times, during the years that followed, I have asked people what it was that I said on that day. Nobody seems to have any memory of it. Each person I queried was able to recall the incident without prompting, yet not one of them were able to remember what was said, or had any idea of what had been the nature of the problem that caused Mark and Sally to seek me out.
There is a valid explanation of how a Tarot reading works, but the actual practice is more an art form than a science. There have been occasions when I have attempted a reading but have only seen pieces of cardboard with quaint pictures printed on them.
When mood, ambience, and purpose are in place it is as if a doorway opens and I am able to stand in the portal between two worlds, looking in to another realm yet able to describe it, and know what I am saying. On that occasion something entirely different occurred.