As I learned many tricks played on tourists by someone who read Tarot at the “Bottom Of The Cup Tea Room”, I knew many, if not most, were dishonest. One day, I learned of a man wayyy out in the country more so than even I. He advised our prior Governor who won many times over and made a comeback, too. I was encouraged to see him and, if I did, I never had to do this kind of thing again if I did. So, I went on the long ass ride. His place was extremely modest where he performed readings. Plus, it wasn’t an actual Tarot reading so much as it was a vehicle for him to discern by like a divining rod for underground water dowsers. My spouse’s reading was that of needing to become my Watchtower keeping those who would take advantage of me far away, a spirit bouncer if you will. We had our readings done separately. Mine was all over the place and he scrambled knowing where to begin. So, a word unknown to him that he struggled pronouncing was “lapidary” and he was able to tell me on which street in the French Quarter it was and what I needed to buy should be upfront. (When I went, I nearly missed them because they were in the middle front on the last shelf at shoe level!) He informed me I required a bloodstone for protection. I had no reason to doubt and was curious, too. I found one that fit every finger of my hand and indentation of palm. It was easy choosing among hundreds. I was drawn like a magnet at that distance. Then, he began bringing me back to material told before to me in various ways thanks to clairaudience and psychometry. He was the first to use to term, “shaman” aloud, however. I believe my vehicle is sound/music just as he plays with Tarot.