Author: Eric Jensen, Managing Editor
Call me a freak, call me a nut, call me a woman who will eventually be 60 years old still wearing body glitter and fruitlessly utilizing online dating services, but I believe in psychic powers. Think what you want about me, but don’t make up your mind about the existence of extra-sensory perception until you visit Spiritual Psychic Revelation on Colorado Boulevard.
I too was a skeptic. Not that I didn’t respect the practice of palm reading and tarot cards, it’s just that I was pretty sure it was reserved for wrinkly old crazy people and the street performers at Venice Beach. I couldn’t have been more wrong.From the boulevard, Spiritual Psychic Revelation looks comically official, its blue carpet-lined porch tucked under a long awning that stretches to the sidewalk, where a professionally printed wooden sign announces the name of the business. At the door, my dear friend and partner in spiritual exploration Claire Anderson and I were invited in by a disappointingly normal-looking 20-something woman, dressed in a black-and-white polka-dotted blouse rather than the anticipated velvet robes and dangly jewelry.
We stepped into a warm, small room packed to capacity with ornate couches in one corner and a hulking big screen TV in the other. The mantle was already decorated for Christmas, lined with portraits featuring three kids grinning in Santa hats. We understood quickly that the waiting room doubled as the family living room, made even more apparent by the unexplained four-year-old girl engulfed in the cushions of one of the couches.
“Who would like to go first?” asked the 20-something, who was the psychic. Feeling I needed time to take in the scene, I sent Claire ahea and she disappeared into an adjoining room that was enclosed by gilded sliding doors. I was left to sit in awkward silence with the mysterious little kid to watch Uptown Girls on ABC Family and gawk at the big golden statues of Buddha and giant piggy banks arranged around the room.
About 10 minutes passed before Claire emerged from the gilded doors looking relatively unchanged. I studied her eyes for signs of brainwashing and possession before proceeding into the adjoining room, which smelled like a mixture of stale incense and the toddler scent of Honey Nut Cheerios from the family room. The psychic, whose name actually remained undisclosed but—based on the business card—was probably Laura, pulled the doors shut behind us and beckoned me to sit in one of two plush chairs next to each other. The chairs were separated by a dark wooden table set against an altar of sorts, teeming with candles, statues and—seriously—crystal balls. Unfortunately, they turned out only to be for show.
It all seemed way too legit. There was a Dell desktop computer across the room, the kitchen was through the next doorway, family photos hung everywhere; this was obviously no circus tent. The lack of smoke and mirrors made the whole situation seem way too real—like maybe she really could tell my future. Still, unprepared to relinquish common sense, I remained cynical.
“Put your hands out on the table, open palm,” she said. I obeyed. “Now tell me your full name and birth date.” Again I complied. And that was it. That was the only information I gave her, and from there she started reading me like a book. From my love life to my fears to what was happening in the future, she was correct. Scary correct. Even scarier still when Claire and I compared notes later. Our readings were so personally accurate that we were convinced by the time we left that something spiritually significant had indeed transpired. It’s one of those “seeing is believing” types of things. You’re not really going to believe in psychic powers until you’re sitting face-to-face with a stranger who seems to know everything about you.
As if it was already believable enough, it turns out that the psychic we saw learned from her mother, who in turn learned from her mother, the ways of psychic practice. They are all from India, and often return to the country to do spiritual cleansings. I walked out of that little family practice with a genuinely warm feeling, kind of like the one I always get leaving my grandparents’ house—pleasant, loved, understood. Except when I go to my grandparents’ house, they don’t charge me $40. Then again, they also couldn’t tell me how I died in my past life. I drowned, by the way.
Spiritual Psychic Revelation offers a wide variety of spiritual services, including palm reading for $30, psychic reading for $40 and tarot reading for $60. To make an appointment, call (323) 258-0022.
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