Gypsies

Hello 2014. It is I again. I’m going to be that bad friend who hasn’t called in months but acts like nothing happened. Shall we? This year has a strange feeling already. The stars tell me that this year is my year. Technically, every year is, but this year promises to be auspicious. Everything I experience is a journey and it all means something.

I don’t know about anyone else but from time to time I speak with mystics, some may call them psychics or healers. As a child I was afraid of psychics because of my painfully narrow views on Christianity. What I didn’t realize is that many psychics are Christian. Many start their session with a prayer. My first encounter with a psychic healer was back in 2011 at a street festival in Manhattan. I had a quick palm reading. The woman knew so much about me from just observing me and looking at my hand. I knew I had to see another one to get a more detailed reading. My second encounter with a mystic was at a laundromat in 2012. There was a woman with 4 little girls dressed in kitten heels and flouncy dresses with what looked like months of laundry. The carnival was in town, we assumed she worked there. My friend and I immediately thought *gypsy*. We would’ve normally quietly observed and shared side eyes and giggles at this woman and her unruly flock of children –but she had other plans. First she came to me to ask for money to finish her laundry. I told her no. She asked again, but this time she offered to give me a reading in exchange for money. I said no, I’m all set. But this lady was persistent, even pushy. A few minutes went by and one of her little girls came up to me to ask for money to get a snack from the vending machine. Do I look like I have a purse full of bankrolls. This experience was especially strange because she wasn’t asking anyone else in the laundromat for money. She only talked to me. She knew what wasn’t being said. Finally when I sat down the woman came up to me and said “Can you pay me if I pray over you?” I refused to give this woman any money. Then she finally said, “I know you’re going through something that you can’t go through alone. Please let me pray over you. For free.” How could I oblige? What harm could a prayer do? The woman, my friend and I  bowed our heads and closed our eyes as she began to frantically pray over me. When it was said and done, she didn’t ask for anymore money and her children left us alone. My mother was in hospice care at the time and she passed shortly after. I’m grateful for what she did that day. It was better than any sympathy card, any church service or grieving guide. That was exactly what I needed.

Since then I’ve been intrigued by mystic’s healing power. I’ve met with two psychics since then. They’ve both been extremely helpful. As corny as it sounds, they’re doing the lords work.

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