Betsy joined the slow-moving line into the auditorium. An usher asked her to pick a tarot card from the fanned deck in his hand.
“It’s part of the shtick for tonight,” he said, winking at her. “Hold onto it.”
Betsy turned the card over in her hand. Her breath caught in her throat.
On the card was an illustration of a girl, sitting upright in bed. Her face was cupped in her hands—she was clearly crying or terrified. Above her were nine swords, dangling in the air. The bedspread was covered with zodiac symbols and roses.
Betsy made her way to an empty seat. She pulled out her iPhone and did a quick search:
THE NINE OF SWORDS COMMUNICATES AN INSTANT MESSAGE OF GRIEF, ANGUISH, AND EVEN TERROR.
The lights darkened and the English curator introduced the two guests, analyst and analysand—the fortune-teller who would share her interpretation of one of Jung’s illustrations.
Betsy read on, her eyes glued to the iPhone screen.
IT IS CONSIDERED TO BE UPSETTING AND DISTURBING AS AN OMEN IN A DIVINATORY TAROT READING.
“And would you all be so kind as to turn off your pagers and cell phones? Thank you,” announced the curator.
The man next to her glared at her. She clicked off her phone.
Dr. Kilpatrick presented Rikki Gillette with the illustration. It was the same one that Betsy had studied so intently a few minutes earlier. The audience was shown a projection on the wall: the red and black turbaned man and the maze background.
“Tell me your immediate reaction to seeing this illustration, please.”
“My first reaction is that I want to cry,” Gillette said. She thought a moment longer. “The maze is reminiscent of Van Gogh, his struggle for a way to go…the intercept of madness and of the Heart Chakra.”
“Heart Chakra!” muttered the man next to Betsy. “Yeah, right! New Age—”
“Shh!” hissed a young woman. Betsy noticed her long red hair and its glorious sheen, even in the dark.
Gillette continued. “But I don’t see anguish in the figure’s face. No, I see St. Anthony, a dark walk of the soul. And the piercing light is illuminating, raising the man up.”
“And the snake?” asked Dr. Kilpatrick.
“He is not afraid of it. It is the light that captures him absolutely. If he focuses on the light, the snake is powerless. He is walking a razor line between rational and irrational. His spirit is speaking to him.”
“As a psychic, do you feel a spirit speak to us?” asked Kilpatrick.
“All the time. But you must go to a place of silence to hear it. Not the jabberwocky of language, of social commitments, of things to do. The spirit is giving you clues constantly, if you can just see them, just hear them…”
She looked up from the illustration.
“Each member of the audience was given a tarot card when you came in,” said the fortune-teller. “Look at your card please. Who has the Nine of Swords?”
Betsy turned her card over in her hand.
“I do,” she said, waving it. She stood up. “What does it mean?”
“The tarot is a collection of symbols, deeply mythological and indicative of archetypes,” said Gillette.
Betsy nodded. She knew that, as any Jungian would. But what about this particular illustration? What did it mean? Why did she find it so frightening?
“The Nine of Swords is also called the Lord of Cruelty,” said Gillette. “It means you are or soon will be dealing with family secrets. Secrets you may have sensed. But you have not realized the depth and darkness of what was being withheld from you.”
Betsy’s face began to burn. She felt hundreds of eyes on her.
“There is a lot of pain here.”
Betsy started to speak, but the tarot reader shook her head, continuing. “The content is getting in touch with your overwhelming sense of fear. Is there a Scorpio in your life?” Betsy tried to think. A Scorpio?
“Talk about nightmares!” laughed Gillette, and everyone joined her laughter. “Keep a dream journal,” said Gillette. “And good luck.”
In the question-and-answer session that followed, a distinguished white-haired man stood up across the aisle from Betsy. He was leaning on an elegant walking stick with a silver handle.
“Could you speak to Jung’s theory of synchronicity and its implication in tarot cards, Ms. Gillette?”
There was a murmur of approval from the analysts in the audience. Betsy noted the foreign accent of the man—Eastern European? She wondered if he had studied in Vienna as her father had.
“Synchronicity? The entire universe vibrates to synchronicity, if only we can hear the rich symphony. The first strains of music, created at our beginnings, the notes wafting through space and time, gathering momentum. But it is only the attuned ear that can detect the chorus.”