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I love psychic fairs.  I really do:  they’re wonderful.  Sort of bizarre bazaars.  Aisles of colourful tables manned by people one hasn’t seen in ages—practitioners of a wide array of crafts and arts, dressed to entice or impress.  The vibration in the hall from devotees striving to share their particular mantic or healing lore is thrilling, to say the least, tho’ sometimes the psychic hangover is intense.  The spectacle can be enchanting.  And there is always something to be gained from esoteric cross-pollination: one just might learn a thing or two in the process.

That said, I’ve also grown wise in the ways of what NOT to expect from a psychic fair:

  • Privacy: the best one can hope for is a curtain, or a wall of sound.  Best NOT to take one’s crises here. 
  • Thoroughness: depth just isn’t possible in a 15-minute reading. 
  • Revelation: tho’ occasionally it happens, generally speaking, enlightenment isn’t on offer.  But neither, usually, is snake oil: as readers or healers, participants have a duty towards ethics; and these professions tend to be self-policing.


As merchants, we certainly don’t expect to get rich at psychic fairs: but the exposure is priceless.  And for the public?  One can meet, greet, and bookmark practitioners for later.  And that’s always worthwhile.

(Note: I can be found at the Cole Habour Place Psychic and Holistic Fair, February 20-21, 2015.  See y’all there!)