OYM Day 86: Truth Tent

I need to come right out and say that I’ve really fallen off. I’m basically writing every other day and I have to remind myself that that is not the challenge I created for myself. No excuses. Finish strong, Cassie.

For awhile I thought I was psychic. I discovered I was even more psychic after 2–3 glasses of wine. These psychic episodes usually started when I was at a party and someone would ask me to “do that thing.” Someone would be volunteered by the group and I would sit down with them at a dining room table littered with liquor bottles or an ottoman covered with tattered Vogue magazines and a pizza box. I’d light some sage and cleanse the space of unwanted energy (or smells of vanilla scented candles and cigarettes), and then like a child putting a quarter into a drug store pony, I’d close my eyes and the show would begin.

“You were close with your grandmother, no? She passed a handful of years ago?”

“Oh my God. Is she here with us?”

“Maybe. Did she tell you to go to church more? She had a glass cabinet she displayed precious items in, no?”

“She loved the church. And she had a curio cabinet in the hallway full of glass owls.”

At this point, the room would go from stark quiet to a murmur of gasps and arguing over who was next. There was never a “next”, though. I’d always say I’d exhausted my powers, but perhaps if you refill my glass of wine…

And then I’d pitch a truth tent.

“She’s telling me that you need to let some things go. You’re holding on to something…but you need to know that so much awaits for you if you can forgive… forgive yourself, and let go. She also says that you’re spending too much time on things that aren’t getting you where you want to be, and in your heart of hearts, you know where you want to be. She is asking you… “Are you where you want to be?”

Then, I’d round things out for good measure and to keep the party alive.

“I’m sensing some big changes in your future. The best of your life is yet to come and you have some things to be really, really excited about. She says you know what she’s talking about.”

I get it. It’s cruel. I am not talking to someone’s dead grandmother. Or am I? No, I’m certainly not. I’m just being general. And guessing. I waiver in and out of believing in speaking to spirits or to energies higher than a descendant of a primate. What I am sure about, though, is that I am not psychic, but emotionally intelligent. The term has been thrown around a lot lately, just like “self-awareness” and “being an empath.” The only way I know for certain that I am emotionally intelligent is based off of my sheer lack of moral code and pretending to talk to people’s dead relatives. I have had psychic sit-downs with dozens of people and I’ve been off the mark only once. Sure, this isn’t enough for a case study, but it could be if I keep it up.

The thing is, I don’t play psychic anymore. Instead, I pitch a truth tent, which is just me reading your energy and giving advice that you may need to hear. It doesn’t weigh on my conscience as much and honestly, I love tents. I have spent a little too much time thinking about how I could host a truth tent at a craft fair or a street festival, a dinner party or a progressive tech company retreat. I’d have a small burlap tent, with a flap for a door, and enough room for a small card table and 2 chairs. Someone would enter the tent and I’d take them in for a minute or less. Based off of what I feel in that single minute, I would decide what to charge. If I pick up a lot, that might mean $40. If I don’t have much to say, maybe $1. But maybe I don’t have much to say, but the few sentences are dire. Maybe even life and death. That’d be $75. Cash only.

I once hiked a trail across Spain with a few friends. We’d hike for 15 or so miles each day and stayed at shelters each night, not far from the trail. In doing this, we fell in stride with a handful of other hikers, all of whom I got to know quite well. One gentleman in particular was victim to my constant questions and probing. He was open enough and was a great conversationalist, but the baggage he carried, both literally and figuratively, was making my own back hurt.

One evening as we all peeled off layers of sweat-soaked shirts and socks, waiting at a small wooden table for beers, I saw he had a deck of playing cards. This would be the perfect time. I asked him if he had ever had his tarot read before. Of course, he had not. I told him I could use traditional playing cards and read his tarot. He laughed at the idea. He was in the midst of earning his PhD, he reminded me, for the 87th time. But, he obliged.

The quarter was inserted into the pony. I laid the cards out in a convincing spread and went to work.

“I’m seeing here, Martin, that the walls around you are built quite high, by none other than you, the master architect of his future.”

He scoffed.

“And here I’m seeing that you have the strongest relationships with women, at least in your family life. You are sensitive and often you feel this side of you is misunderstood, especially by the people you surround yourself with outside of family. It actually looks to me like you need to reevaluate your friendships closest to you and maybe find people that will support you for who you really are.”

He sat, looking down at the cards, unmoving.

“I see a woman in your future.”

He perked up. They always do.

“I think you’re going to meet someone, but it looks to be a ways into the future. I’d guess 6–8 months. This gives you time to do the work you need to do to be ready for a relationship. If you’re still building walls, she’ll walk right past you and you wouldn’t be the wiser.”

He’s looking me dead in the eye now.

“And lastly, here, you see… this is the moral of your story. It symbolizes confidence. But don’t get it confused with your ego. The narrative your ego has spun for you is working against you. The things that you share with others, the things that you boast about to colleagues… they’re the same thing keeping true human connections at bay. You need to embrace the real you and be proud of it. When you do that, things are going to fall in place, Martin.”

He rubbed his forehead and bought me a beer. He couldn’t believe it.

In the truth tent, that would’ve been a solid $25. But I’m trying to better about being an asshole. It’s been a long time since I played psychic or charged by the generalization. I feel a little less guilty about the tent. At least the tent doesn’t involve someones late Grandpa. Sometimes, people just need to hear the truth. And surprisingly, the truth is often general. We aren’t being honest with our friends, or colleagues, or are loved ones. This is usually because we aren’t being honest with ourselves. Often we spend the majority of our time working on the caricatures we’ve created, our puppets, and we forget an actual being lives inside of us. And that being should be much less concerned about fitting into society and more concerned with finding out what joy feels like. I’d tell you how to do that, but it’ll cost you. At least $62.