To admit how long I’ve been at this? It’s a little scary. Whether I’m reading cards, stars, charts, or just listening in a consultation, a familiar situation popped up. Not the first time. Doubt it’s the last time.


Typically, and this is in general terms, this will be a female client, describing an interaction with a male. With all fairness, though, I also see the roles reversed. Same thing. Hint: so not gender specific.

At one point in my own life, it was as if I was stuck at the emotional age of 20 years old. As I aged, I didn’t seem to mature past that point. It’s possible to track Saturn as a part of this equation. So when faced with certain questions, old scenarios pop up in my head, and I recall how I reacted, then. Usually, how I reacted badly. The symbolism isn’t lost on me, not anymore, and I recall how I reacted, then, and that helps plot a course forward, now.

Course forward for the client.


Doesn’t always work, and I am adept enough at cards and charts to do a technical reading — cold — so I don’t have to display any empathy. Still, it does get to me sometime.


I’m not a typical empath, though, that’s for sure. Plus, seriously, this isn’t about empathy, more about my experiences. Which is part of what I’m peddling.

So the scene described to me will be a typical “girl meets boy” setting. Meet, interact, someone feels a connection, sometimes there is kissing, sometimes, naked images, all depends. But the setting, the feelings are the same. Then there is a problem. One of the characters removes himself from the situation. Typically, the lad is emotionally unavailable, in some capacity.

That’s the first bit of pain, as I’ve been a player, in a, oh, let’s characterize this as “misspent youth.” That’s as good a phrase as any. However, I am reminded of when I caused pain like that. Residual guilt, perhaps, or just a human reaction to vivid memory; and like most modern tales, not many of my older stories had happy endings.

It’s no wonder that my first web-journal (pre-blog) was named after a pinball machine I once owned.


Battered and batted, always feeling like there is no control in one’s life? Like a pinball in a machine. Put another quarter in the slot.

Perhaps therapeutic resources, perhaps a certain amount of wholistic growth, and perhaps, just maybe, applied metaphysics. Results?

Over the years, certain stories, certain situations, not all of them, mind you, but some cause me my own pain. I’ve been on both sides of betrayal. When I hear one version, I’ll think about my own, as I can’t help but be reminded.

In certain, clinical mental health circles, I’m sure, such empathy is not encouraged or rewarded. But for me, it’s part of what I do. Love, lust, loss, all a part of life.

I am the sum total of all the events in my life. Mostly. There’s a portion of a certain era I’m not totally responsible for — I’ve thought about running for public office to fill in the gaps.


In my field, I notice a great number of people who claim to be empaths. Might be true, not a field I care to quantify. Wrestling with my own demons, though, makes me better, more adept, at suggestions for others. Part of what I do.

Other parts of what I do, no matter what tools I tend to employ, includes being open to feeling that I get, situations where I feel — because I’ve been there — for real — I feel what the client feels. Pain, loss, suffering, growth. Been through a lot to get me where I’m at. I like where I’m at, too.

Apparently, some days, not every one is happy. Doesn’t stop me from feeling it.


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