A Simple Way To Improve Your Day

Do you believe in tarot cards? I do. But don’t tell anyone, okay? There’s still a small part of me that’s embarrassed by it, so shhhh – it’ll be our little secret.

Not that it matters where you fall along the metaphysical spectrum. Not for this exercise. But if you do what I suggest, I can practically guarantee your day will brighten at least a little bit. And quite possibly a lot.

It all started a year ago. My wife, Robyn, and I were at this soulful little store in Carlsbad called LEAF. On a table, amongst crystals, and dreamcatchers, and the like, was a box of Native Spirit Oracle Cards. An arresting image of a hawk gliding majestically over a western landscape at sunrise drew me in. I removed the top and sifted through the cards. Each image was beautifully drawn, and coupled with mystical titles like Sacred Mountain, Flowing River, and Ancient Forest. With the deck came a booklet filled with lyrical passages detailing each card’s significance. After a brief once-over, I reapplied the lid, and continued on my way.

But all roads led back to the box.

“Why don’t you buy them?” Robyn asked.

Buy them? Me? I’d dabbled with other people’s decks before, but never felt compelled to get my own. But somehow, now, I did. The cards were calling to me the way a particular guitar might to a guitarist, or a surfboard does to a surfer.

So I bought them.

I don’t do spreads or follow any formal rules or anything. I just pick a card each morning and use it as a guidepost for the day. A helpful hint of sorts.

One Sunday morning several months back, I shuffled the deck and pulled a card titled, Prayer Feather. The accompanying explanation said to love silently and deeply, even if a person wasn’t fulfilling my expectations. At the very end of the passage was a section called The Journey. Each card had a Journey, which was, basically, a homework assignment, which I’d usually read then ignore because it was, you know, a homework assignment. Anyhow, The Journey was this:

“For a day, love each person you encounter. Imagine a golden ray of light from the center of your heart radiating to the center of the heart of that individual. Notice how great you feel by the end of the day.”

After reading it, I set the cards aside, grabbed my shopping bag, and headed to the Farmer’s Market.

It was still early when I arrived. The crowd was light and the weather optimal – the morning gloom having lightened to a thin haze that perfectly tempered the sun’s rays. There was no reason to expect anything other than a blissful experience.

But something was off.

It started with a cluster of baby strollers. Each stroller belonged to a different group of adults, but through just the right mix of idle conversation and cellphone seduction, the carriages had coalesced – each stroller lined up perfectly against the next like tree branches in a river dam. I managed to squeeze past – exaggeratingly sucking in my stomach so at least one of the beavers would get the hint. But none did.

In the distance, I spotted a man walking straight toward me. I took a step to the right, freeing up the path for both of us, but as soon as I did this, the man took an equal step to his left, putting us once again on a collision course. So I moved a second time. Again, the man followed. Another step. Same thing. Then another, and another, until I finally ran out of real estate and banged my hip against a produce table.

“Easy on the green beans, chief,” the vendor said.

“Your beans are fine,” I blurted back. I should have just said, “Sorry,” and likely would have were it not for the “chief” at the end of his statement. I’m fine being called chief if it’s meant like comrade or buddy, but in this case, I’m fairly certain the intended meaning was far closer to fuckhead.

And on it went from stand to stand – from the nuts to the kimchi to the heirloom tomatoes – an idyllic setting transformed into a war zone by a constant barrage of pushers, bumpers, and me-firsters. It was as if a virus had infected the Farmer’s Market and transformed its shoppers into unwitting negativity bots.

I finally hit my limit at the French Bakery stand, when a man holding two pistachio morning buns cut in front of me. But just as I was readying to bop him on the head with a baguette (or, at the very least, administer a serious tongue-lashing), I remembered the Prayer Feather card, and instead sent a golden ray of light from my heart to his. It didn’t stop him in his tracks or anything. He still cut the line. But it did make me feel better. A lot better, in fact.

And from that moment forward, every person I came in contact with got a brilliant beam of love to the heart. It’s very hard to be pissed at anyone while you’re doing this, I found. It’s such a positive act that, by its nature, sweeps away any negativity that threatens to latch onto you. Also, it takes time to shoot a love ray, and that brief pause in the action keeps one from being overly reactive. It’s the spiritual equivalent of a deep breath.

The entire exercise was both liberating and empowering. I felt like a freshly-minted Marvel Superhero. I was The Heart.

Wait. No.

I was Golden Ray.

My final stop was the Orchids. As I approached the stand, I made the error of telegraphing my affection for one in particular – a spotted wonder artfully adorned in alternating shades of fuchsia. A woman who was closer to the plant than I was picked up on this, and very deliberately snagged the object of my desire before I could reach it. The move was obvious and instinctive. If the item in question had been a petrified pile of fake novelty poop rather than a jaw-dropping Angiosperm, I’m convinced she would have behaved the same way.

“Nice, isn’t it?” She said, holding the flower in front of my face.

“A real beauty,” I replied as I shot a golden ray of light into her heart.

As she walked away, I turned to the vendor and shrugged. “That was the orchid I wanted.”

“I know,” the vendor said as she reached under the table. “Here’s an even better one.”

And boy was it – the way the two stalks fanned out from one another with perfect symmetry – truly the orchid to end all orchids.

As I reached my car, I spotted the woman with the suddenly-inferior orchid. “Enjoy!” I told her.

Initially stunned, the woman’s look quickly soured into something far closer to disgust. I shot a second ray of golden light to her heart in hopes it might lift her sagging spirits somewhat, but it didn’t.

I smiled one final time and drove off without a trace of self-satisfaction in my bones. Okay, maybe a nanoparticle or two, but what do you expect? Even superheroes have flaws.

So take my advice and give it a shot. Or, in this case, multiple shots. It’ll leave you feeling a little better about the world or my name isn’t Golden Ray.

Oh, and P.S. If you ever want me to pull a card for you, let me know 🙂