Tarot-Minded

(Originally published in the MIT Tech.)

Come on, admit it. Haven't you, the MIT reader, secularist and determinist, ever wondered about psychic phenomena? After all, it's been argued that there's far more valid evidence for psychic phenomena than there is for microbes on Mars. So why do we sink millions of dollars into studying one and not the other?

To address this discrepancy, I conducted my own rigorous study of psychics in the Boston area. Meaning, I walked down Tremont Street and got two tarot card readings. So, n=2. Not enough to get a standard deviation, but my research funds were limited.

Lilah inhabits an apartment in the Theatre District across from 7-Eleven. When I buzzed the bell, she appeared at the top of the stairway and stared down at me suspiciously, as if I might be trying to sell her vacuums. But in this case my innocent-frumpy-student look was good for something. She let me in and, entering a broad pine-carpeted room, barked at someone to disappear. She didn't turn on any lights and cigarette smoke hung in the air. A woefully smush-faced cat sauntered over to investigate my coat.

We sank into her black vinyl couch. She asked me to shuffle the deck, which I did clumsily (never could master that slick funnel trick). Rapidly she dealt the cards on the cushion between us and began speaking in an Eastern European accent, punctuating every pronunciation with "Yoo understand vat I mean?"

Apparently I will live well into my 80s, I have chakra blockage in my stomach (which may have been the cheese I ate for breakfast), and I have jealous women orbiting me who are planning my demise. Also, Lilah announced that I have a fragile ego, to which I shrieked, "No I don't, you bitch!!" and burst into tears. (Just kidding.)

She advised me to return for spiritual cleansing and candle-burning, which I politely refused. She seemed annoyed and saw me out, uninterested in my attempts at small talk: "What a beautiful art!" She said nothing. The smush-faced cat had also lost interest.

In the heart of Downtown Crossing is the Tremont Tearoom, a more famous Boston establishment. There were draped tables amidst murals of swirling colors on the walls, stars and crucifixes, and portraits of pregnant goddesses. It looked like a psychedelic speakeasy. A grandfatherly man was summoned to read the cards for me. Eschewing full sentences, he preferred to communicate in sounds and phrases. When we sat down he immediately said there was a bowling alley in my near future. I thought he was kidding, but he insisted it was true. Then he asked, "Who's Frida?"

"My sister's cat," I said, confused.

The tattered cards were so old that the images had faded to white, but he had bought the set in 1967, he told me, and could still recognize each one. He read them dutifully: the Devil for temptation; the Swords for conflict; the Master for guidance. But greater clarity seemed to come when he plucked goobers out of my psychic noise: "Where's Dan?" But the only Dan I know is a long-lost high school friend whose fruit cups I liked to steal at lunch. He also warned that if I wasn't careful, I would conceive a baby boy around 1:00pm on April 3rd: "A good time for the 'shower cap of love,' muh huh huh!" He also predicted that I would become involved with (God forbid) Harvard's Kennedy School of Government, and possibly seek a job with Japan Airlines.

About three-fifths of the things they said were of varying accuracy; others were dead wrong. To me, it was a fun exercise; but to the others I saw there, it's a valid lifestyle. Actually, for many people, I wouldn't consider it all that different from therapy. Though I have a generally low opinion of Michael Crichton, he wrote something in his memoir Travels that stuck with me: "[The mechanism of the tarot is to] provide a stimulus to the unconscious mind - you already know the answer, if you can just gain access to it. The very thing that makes these divination techniques seem so unscientific is what makes it possible for them to work."

On the other hand, if your name is Bart, I'm supposed to meet you on March 3rd around 5:00. I'll try to look presentable.