Lydia Aswolf

I learned powerful magic when I was seven or eight years old.

Not the kind that will curse wrongdoers to suitably gruesome deaths or reunite star crossed lovers from perilous situations and terrible distances.

No, I learned a much more potent type of magic.

I learned how to bake.

There was very little food in the house, and hadn’t been for a few weeks.

As a matter of fact, the day before our lone meal had been one small bowl of popcorn each.

But we didn’t each really get a bowl. My mother pushed her bowl towards us, and went without. As she usually did when there wasn’t enough.

My parents went out a day or two after that.

I didn’t know where they went, and I didn’t care. Kids are selfish, and their needs come first. Or at least, mine did.

Only years after the fact did I realize what sacrifices were made on my behalf.

What I did know and care about at the time was that I was very hungry. I had been for awhile.

I never got used to being hungry. On the rare occasions my parents bought jello or cocoa, I waited until they weren’t watching and squirreled some of the precious stuff away. Into my room, in secret places where no one would ever think to look.

So I wouldn’t have to be hungry for awhile.

My brother and I were going through the cabinets, looking for anything we might be able to eat.

We didn’t expect to find anything; but hope springs eternal. Never more so than in a child’s heart.

My eyes fell on my grandmother’s recipe book at some point; I remember that.

I remember the sense of excitement I felt when we realized we had enough things on hand to bake something.

I don’t remember how big the mess we made was, or anything other than the fact that we could fill our bellies with what we baked.

So we did.

Necessity opened the door. I walked through without ever looking back.

And the magic came with me.

I bake cakes and had my kids deliver them to veterans every single Veteran’s Day. I want to thank them for their service, but something in me rebels at showing up at their door and telling them so.

I volunteered to whip up sweet treats for bake sales to buy Christmas gifts for the elderly at nursing homes. None of the recipients knew I did it. I didn’t want them to. To call attention to such a thing is to negate the purpose entirely.

When I heard about the neighbor who had lost her job and didn’t know how she was going to manage feeding her kids, I got to work. I didn’t single her out. I had my kids make deliveries to every single neighbor in the neighborhood to cover what I was doing. She and her kids got more than anyone else, but she never knew it.

I didn’t want her kids going without.

I remembered too well what it was to be hungry.

I have baked before weddings and funerals, anniversaries and birthdays, small gatherings and large ones. I have baked for friends, acquaintances, and complete strangers.

Sometimes I saw the magic; most of the time I opted out.

Because the first time I saw the magic was the best.

My parents came back eventually. It was our mother’s face we looked at when they walked in the door.

It was her face our gazes remained on as she looked at what we had done.

I don’t remember making a huge mess, but I’m sure we did.

The mess never occurred to us. We were sure our mother would be proud that we were helping her. Finally helping her.

And she was.

I can still see my mother’s weary eyes taking in the biscuits we had baked. They were everywhere. Piled on the tables, counters, and precariously balanced on every available surface of the small kitchen.

Even today, I can remember the feel of the magic swirling around us like dust motes illuminated by bright sunlight.

Because there was sunlight; I could see it shining from my mother’s eyes as she saw what we had done.

She didn’t say anything; but she didn’t have to.

And now, all these years later, I realize how like my mother I have become.

Baking is my way to show I care when I can’t say it.

I know so many talented people, all of whom possess more magic in their little finger than I have in my entire body.

You are among them, and so you understand.

All truly extraordinary magic is given freely and solely for the delight of those on the receiving end of it.

All magicians will disappear.

But their magic will go on.

There are millions of us and only one of you.

Therein lies the answer, and also the problem.

We aren’t meant to connect with every single person in the world.

That’s why there are millions of us, and only one of you.

Chances are pretty damned good you aren’t going to get the right psychic or medium the first time around. Or the second. Maybe even the sixteenth.

I prefer consumers go to a psychic/medium with a money-back guarantee.

Ever notice most psychics don’t offer that little guarantee?

Yeah, I think there’s a reason for that. I don’t like the reason, and I don’t understand the reasoning behind it.

Some of my colleagues will not be pleased that I’m throwing this particular information out there. Obviously, I don’t give a rat’s ass. Lots of legitimate psychics bitch, whine, and moan about how they aren’t taken seriously,  or are mocked, hissed at, spat on, etc, etc.

There’s a reason for that.

That reason has an awful lot to do with expecting money handed to them regardless of their actual performance.

I offer a money back guarantee, and I use it liberally.

Not because I’m a shining example of humanity…but because I most assuredly am not.

And I fucking know it.

I know I won’t connect with every single person, because I’m not supposed to. My personality is not what most would call genial.

I don’t believe in telling someone they are going to shit gold and piss rainbows. Life doesn’t operate like that. No one should expect it to.

I do believe if the perception of psychics and/or mediums is going to improve, it will only do so because some of us band together and show people we don’t expect money handed to us for no apparent reason other than we claim we can see/know things other “normal” people can’t.

So be harsh.

Know that odds are against you connecting with psychics. Maybe you’ll get lucky. Maybe it will only take a few times for you to find the right psychic for you.

Realize that most psychics/mediums ask for money up front. This is because we got screwed without benefit of lube many times before instituting such a policy.

Do NOT put any money up front until you have asked the psychic/medium in question if they offer a money back guarantee. If they don’t…be cautious.

Because I can’t say psychics and mediums who don’t offer money-back guarantees are not legitimate.

But I can say if they are asking you more questions than you have asked them.

If they suddenly start freaking out and saying you are cursed/have dark energy.

If they tell you that you should see them and them only.

If they aren’t getting one damned thing right.

You need to ask for your money back.

Make us earn it.

Frequently Mistaken Assumption: I can see into your brain effortlessly.

Reality: Nope. And this comes up a lot. A whole lot. I’ve seen people all but run from me when I’m introduced at parties, social gatherings, events and what have you because they assume their every secret is privy to me with my “special” sight.

I can’t wander around the supermarket aisles telling you good ole Uncle Fred is right over your shoulder, and wants to let you know you forgot to turn the oven off. I can’t tell you that you’d better dump the bitch/bastard who’s been taking a helluva lot more than they ever intend to give  you either…even if good ole Uncle Fred tells me too. Unless you grant me permission to look by asking me a question, I can’t tell you anything at all.

All I need is a question.

And all you should have to do in ANY reading is ask the damned question. After you ask it, it’s all up to me. The only question I will ask you is, “Make sense?”

What do I expect as an answer? “Yes, no, or makes sense.”

I do NOT want you telling me everything, or really anything at all. Because if you do, you are giving ME information to work with.

That is an abyss you do not want to fall into. Not because I’ll use it against you; I won’t. No, it’s because if you decide to consult someone else who is less than legitimate, they won’t hesitate to take you for a ride on your own dime…and with the information you gave them.

Most con artists have the gift of gab. You give them any information, they can twist it around and make it look like they are brilliantly reading you, when all they are really doing is just repeating what you’ve said, in a different way.

Takeaway Value: I’ve done plenty of readings where men and women have gasped and told me I was telling them what they were thinking. That’s how readings should work.

Hell, one of my good friends really did run away from me when she asked her question. I told her what worried her, and then answered those worries without her having to say a word.

She avoided me for awhile, but hey: she ASKED for it.

Which is the whole point.

The less you say in a psychic/medium reading; the better off you are.

Frequently Asked Question: How’s my health looking?

Frequent Answer: I am not a physician.

So you forgot to water your cactus plants. You left them in the kitchen chair before going to bed so you wouldn’t forget in the morning. For some reason, in the middle of the night you develop a blinding fear your beloved cacti are going to die if they don’t get watered now. Or, you have to go to the bathroom. Or you left your cell phone perilously close to the kitchen chair. Whatever. You blunder out naked and in a bizarre twist of fate, fall ass first on your beloved cacti, who pays you back for this indignity in the worst way possible.

If you call to ask me what the hell do to, I’m going to a) ask if you have a roommate, neighbors, and a bullhorn with which to summon them for help. Shortly after this, I will move to b) why in the hell you haven’t called 911? I will then heavily recommend you utilize option c) all of the above, to best help you out of your painful predicament. I will further advise that you stay where you are until help arrives, and recommend that you avoid making this your do-it-yourself project of the month.

Takeaway Value: The scenario above is not likely to happen. At least, I fervently hope not. Yet, I have been asked countless times how to deal with a potential client’s terminal illnesses, chronic pain, or acute symptoms that have popped up shortly before they placed the call to me.

The first words out of my mouth are normally “You are seeing a physician, right?” Often, the answer is, “I have an appointment, but I want to know now.”

That is not our gig, and you should never, ever allow yourself to be swayed by a “psychic” claiming they can heal you of said terminal illness, chronic pain, or acute symptoms. Unless they happen to have a medical degree they can attach to an email/fax/snail mail you. If they do, make some calls to make sure it’s legit. Problem is, that takes time, and I’m assuming you want help sooner rather than later.

Opening the door to ‘health readings’ could cause you more than physical pain. If you aren’t consulting a legitimate psychic (most of whom flatly refuse to read for health) you could find yourself with a happy asshole who tells you things are worse than you think. If these assholes catch you in the right mood, they can cause a whole helluva lot of  financial pain for you.

Bottom line: It’s too damned expensive to call or book a reading with a psychic for a health reading, period. You need concrete facts, figures, and face to face time for diagnosis, treatment, follow up care. We can’t do that.

I know some physicians advocate the use of leeches in treating their patients.

Unlike the leeches, any “psychic” you use to ascertain the status of your health will provide you with only one result: bleeding you dry.

Frequently Asked Question: Am I pregnant?

Unwavering Answer: No idea. See, first, I’d have to be able to see your egg pop out of your ovary. Second, I’d have to monitor if little swimmers were headed towards that egg. Last but not least, I’d have to see the little bugger entering your egg.

Sounds like a on call, round the clock gig to me.

Look, I respect you. Enough that I don’t want to probe your internal plumbing, order you to have sex, and ensure that the load delivered makes it on time.

Don’t get me wrong; your sex life is part of my job. If the guy/gal you are looking at can’t get job #1 done for you in the bedroom, it’s my responsibility to warn you about that before you hop between the sheets. By the same token, if he/she is passable, I’ll mention he/she needs a little remedial anatomical training, but will sail along just fine with some direction from you. Up to you what you choose to do in such a situation, but I’m not a bump, tickle, and squirt girl myself. I don’t expect you to be, either.

Alternative Point of View: There are some people who, for whatever reason, know as soon as a bun hits your personal oven. Most often, these are people you know or have always known who are NOT psychics. And most often, these people volunteer the information, so you don’t have to ask first.

Some psychics claim to be able to tell when you are pregnant, but frankly, I am doubtful…because some psychics also claim to be able to reunite you with your ex, 100% guaranteed. Even if said ex has been happily married for a decade to his lovely wife, and they have their fourth kid on the way. Yeah…no.

Takeaway Value: Unless someone you know of the aforementioned variety comes up and announces you are pregnant, buy a pregnancy test. It’s cheap, fast, and doesn’t involve someone barking at you to do it doggie style because penetration is better.

Trust me on this.