The past two nights have been peaceful. Although the voices have not invaded my head for awhile, things are not quite the same. There is a spring in my step and my mind is sharper than ever. I have begun carrying a deck of cards everywhere I go, and I can cut the deck cleanly and effortlessly with one hand, despite my arthritis, and better than I was ever able to do in the past. Now that I think of it, I have neglected to take my arthritis medications for several days now. My fingers are nimble and free of pain, and I’m thinking about taking up the piano again.
When I was with a jazz-rock group back in the 1970’s, for a short while we all lived together in a house in Garden Grove, California. In the evenings, for cheap entertainment, one person chose a card from a deck, showed it to everyone, replaced it, shuffled the deck, and spread the cards face down on the floor. The designated “performer” passed his hand over the cards, and when he sensed the presence of the chosen card, he separated out that part of the deck and set the rest of the cards aside. He then repeated the process until only two or three cards remained, then he turned over the original card—sometimes. For the past hour I have been doing that very thing, and I find the card not some of the time, but every single time.
When I’m not divining lost cards, I practice false shuffles. There is one called a “pickup shuffle,” which allows the magician to keep a group of cards on the top of the deck. It’s a bit difficult to do without either looking awkward or dropping cards, but not a soul has been able to catch me at it. I seldom could do it convincingly in the past, but now I don’t even have to think about it—it just happens.
I am enjoying my new skills, but I can’t help but wonder if the spectre might return.
