In the five years since I moved to Salem, I realized that the biggest moments when I truly felt like a part of the community had nothing to do with what I originally came here for. In fact, the only tarot readings I have ever done were for friends or roommates, and the only time I have been in with the psychic community was more about socializing with actual people than any remaining interest in pursuing tarot as a career.
That ship had a limited amount of time in the harbor. If I really wanted to continue making money from tarot, I could have remained on Church Street in Burlington, sitting at my little table and enjoying the waxing and waning success I was slowly accumulating. But unfortunately, I came to Salem thinking it would be easy to dip my ladle in the cauldron and get my bowl of soup. The people who have been at this for far longer and got here before me made that impossible.
What’s amazing is that I came to that conclusion ages ago. Almost literally at the end of my first year, I realized that tarot reading was likely not going to be in the cards. But recently I made the mistake of being friendly and sociable with a well known psychic in the Salem area, who is a friend of John’s, and even has a photo in one of his books.
She was nice enough. But when I mentioned the reason I came to Salem, I was saying it by way of conversation, because she asked. I didn’t seek her out. She was a guest in our home, so Hindsight Detectives may keep that in mind when they ask me why I would even bring it up if I didn’t expect her to start making suggestions.
I can’t blame her for “trying to help”. I can blame her for not listening.
So maybe now, a visual aid will help to spell it out. In the words of Joss Whedon, there comes a time in the course of trying to revive your dream when you have to ask yourself, “Is it CPR or necrophilia?”
So here’s my dream of reading tarot cards in Salem.
Here’s that dream finally setting sail for bigger pastures. And I’m waving goodbye to that boat.