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When I was 11 years old, a palm reader told me I would die at the age of 30. I initially approached her with intrigue, having no experience with mysticism, but when she foretold my death, my face contorted with rage. Who says that to an 11-year-old? What gave her the right to predestine this for me?
I was, and still am, strong-willed. Some (anyone who has met me) would say stubborn and prone to sarcastic retorts. Nonetheless, this singular experience planted the following message into my young mind: psychics are bad.
This little seed of cynicism bloomed into a full-on dislike of anything to do with mysticism. Crystals? Just pieces of a pretty rock. Tarot cards? Highly decorative poker.
Now, I have to make one thing abundantly clear: I do not believe in any of the concepts above because I have had no religious experience or experience with the divine other than the message of my young demise. In other words, I have had no experience to give me reason to believe in anything spiritual. I was raised in an agnostic family and consider myself to be somewhere between agnostic and athiest.
I have always had a fair sense of suspicion about mysticism in its many forms. No rose quartz has brought me love, and no palm reading can determine my dinner plans. Despite this, I have always been curious about these communities.
For this month's issue, I traveled to 'parts unknown' of ASU's mystic tarot and crystal communities. Call me the Anthony Bourdain of the mystic arts.
I’ve decided to embark on my spiritual journey. Come along with me on this path, like Van Morrison once sang, "Into the Mystic."
How do I charge a crystal?
Crystal healing, defined by Wikipedia: A pseudo-scientific alternative-medicine practice that uses semi-precious stones and crystals. People who practice claim that these have healing powers, but there is no scientific basis for this claim. Practitioners of crystal healing believe they can boost low energy, prevent bad energy, release blocked energy and transform a body's aura.
Now, I interpret this to be a form of Wiki-speak satire. The writer of this definition is a skeptic, much like myself, and made sure to hammer it in that 'crystal healing' is a falsehood in and of itself. The instant 'pseudo' is mentioned, I’m out.
But, I could be an unreliable narrator — I probably am. To remedy this, I spoke to Destiny Anthon, a senior studying architecture.
Anthon's experience with crystals began as another outlet for her spirituality. She said her crystal collection consists of some given to her by her grandmother, as well as some she purchased at a zoo.
"I would say I practice with crystals the least," Anthon said.
Despite this, she said she puts her crystals by a window when there is a full moon. Allegedly, this cleanses the crystals. Personally, I use CeraVe to cleanse. But, to each their own.
Anthon uses crystals as a "mindful practice." She aims to improve certain aspects of her life but believes that the universe has a way of aligning things to be how they are meant to be. Her crystals serve as an anti-anxiety measure of sorts. For example, she occasionally wears a crystal around her neck, and the tactile feeling of rubbing the crystal soothes her worries.
I found this to be fascinating, as I struggle with intense anxiety. The concept of having what is essentially a worry stone is something I can relate to, as tangible objects have provided me with immense amounts of comfort over the years.
Can I WebMD my tarot reading?
"Tarot is a form of divination, which is to say a form of using physical objects to try to learn either more about oneself or about the world. Divination is a practice that's used in every culture across the world," said Michael Ostling, a religious studies scholar and a Barrett professor.
Tarot cards, defined by Wikipedia: "Tarot is a pack of playing cards, used from at least the mid-15th century in various parts of Europe to play card games such as Tarochinni."
Isn’t it interesting that the definition does not include anything relating to mysticism? It originated as a pack of cards, decorated uniquely.
The deck includes cards like the Hermit, the Fool, the Sun and the Devil — they seem like silly little guys. There’s also the High Priestess, Judgement and the Magician — they sound like a good time. All of the individual cards have general significance, but the real meaning comes when the reader of the deck gives a personal reading to the recipient. Tarot readings can be done for oneself or another person.
For Anthon, her experience with tarot began at ASU when she found the honors class Myth and Mysteries of the Tarot. After a few failed attempts due to seats filling quickly, she successfully enrolled in the popular class for the Fall 2023 semester and found many new lessons to be learned through her time under Professor Oscar Giner’s tutelage. Because of her major in architecture, Anthon explained that this class was a completely new experience for her.
"This class was very much like a passion class, something for fun," Anthon said.
Although, her time in the class did enhance her spirituality, as tarot practice encourages the card reader to consider universal forces that are out of the reader’s control. She said spirituality comes into play when the reader has to have faith in the message of the deck to communicate what the reader needs to understand.
"I had a reading about my future, and they predicted that for the next year, I will go through suffering, but it’s kind of turned into motivation for me to go through that time," said Nhi Huynh, a freshman studying health care coordination.
I agree more with Huynh than Anthon. Using the tarot reading as positive motivation is fascinating, but I can also appreciate the excitement of a class like the one Anthon took. Knowing myself, I would curse the name of the tarot spirits that predestined suffering for me...
Can you tell I'm a sardonic person?
Religion or hobby?
Before my journey of exploring these communities with an open mind, I had never stopped to consider that this is more than a hobby — and could be considered a religion for some. Thankfully, Anthon had answers for me.
"It definitely helped me reflect on my spirituality," Anthon said. "I was raised Catholic, and from my understanding, there is somewhat of a pipeline of Roman Catholic to mystic arts that I had seemed to follow. A lot of the imagery and the symbolism can be very familiar in the way that it is in the Bible."
Feelings of ostracization or questions about the nature of one’s faith are some examples that Anthon brought up when explaining this "pipeline." She said that many individuals who are raised in organized religions grow up with these experiences and begin to question their faith. Then, at least in Anthon’s case, exposure to social media leads these individuals to a new outlet for their spirituality: the mystic arts. TikTok, according to Anthon, played a large role in this process.
"I fight between saying that I am and I am not Catholic. ... Now I’m just generally spiritual," Anthon said.
She added that moving from her home state of Michigan to Tempe affected her spirituality because she had a sense of distance from her family’s Catholicism. While she had questioned her sense of faith since elementary school, her time at ASU has provided a new perspective.
"When you’re in college ... you’re questioning a lot of things, trying to make a lot of decisions, while also trying to make them responsibly with not a lot of time," Anthon said.
Decision paralysis can occur for many students in college, and a higher power, or otherwise, can help students feel like there is something beyond them that is guiding them in "the right direction."
She explained that her experience with tarot has helped her relinquish control of everything in her life and has allowed her to have faith in a higher power again. Anthon’s anxiety about her life has decreased as she has learned the process of tarot reading.
"It helps you break down the issues or problems in your life," she said.
"I wish (skeptics of the mystic arts) knew that it was almost practiced or treated like a religion," she added. "If people approached the topic as if it was a religion, they wouldn’t be as harsh or as skeptic, and they would maybe not feel the need to voice their skepticism to people’s faces."
This made a lot of sense to me. If I thought of mysticism as a religion, I would automatically respect it more, but hobbies don’t garner the same level of respect from me. Previously, I would have thought it was similar to nerdy Dungeons and Dragons-type activities, but now I see that this is a real outlet for some people to express their spirituality in a non-traditional way.
Where’s the organization?
ASU has a plethora of outlets for students involved in organized religion. Everyone from Muslims to Christians can find a community to bond with and have discourse. However, apart from Professor Giner’s class, I did not find an outlet for students interested in the practice of crystals to express themselves. This saddened me, but mostly in a selfish way. I wanted to find a group of these people to talk to, just in the way my Bourdainian hero would have.
So instead, I traveled to what some may call the crystal capital... of northern Arizona: Sedona.
Sedona is a small town with a population of about 9,800. Home to energy-radiating vortexes, holistic healers and spiritual seekers, this red rock paradise is where ASU students flock to escape the urban heat island that is Phoenix and experience a breath of fresh air.
Crystal shops pepper the streets, each containing a rainbow of sparkly rocks sold at steep prices. Now, if this town wasn’t one of Arizona’s primary tourist destinations, maybe this commercialized mystic community would feel more real to me. Regardless, I decided to talk to a crystal shop owner to understand the allure.
Tina Dale, an employee of Spiritstone Gems, believes crystals can cleanse human pain. Dale found her mystic self when she left her previous Pentecostal church and began exploring things like massage, Reiki healing and acupuncture. When she first started learning about mysticism, Dale regularly drove from Phoenix to Sedona to have sessions with Native American healers and shamans.
Her experiences visiting Sedona prompted her to divorce her husband and move to Sedona permanently. She then began to work at Spiritstone, the only place she would purchase her crystals from.
"I use crystals to heal myself; I don't believe in doctors — they’re all into that big pharma," Dale said. "As you heal, you have to look at the emotions that are coming up, and people just want to sweep it back under the rug. I jumped in with both feet because I wanted to heal my soul."
After my mysterious interaction with Dale, I traipsed my way to Sedona Heartlight Healing, owned and operated by Penny Buckman.
Buckman greeted me kindly and asked how she could help me. Her eyes had a strange glassy quality to them that was incredibly striking, almost heterochromatic.
Once her remaining customers left with pamphlets explaining her services, I perched in a plum-colored crushed velvet chair and began to interview her, albeit apprehensively. To use her words, her "aura" was peculiar, much like Dale’s. Buckman has owned a few "healing centers" and conducts "intuitive psychic readings," as well as crystal beds and quantum crystal healing sessions with sound baths.
I don’t know, either.
When I asked Buckman how the crystal healing sessions worked, she was unable to provide an intelligible answer. I expected this, but was intrigued to hear that there is, in her opinion, a "healing field" anchored by the use of crystals. If you read that, and you're still confused, dear reader, I am too! Moving on.
What I found reassuring was that Buckman acknowledged the validity of skepticism in the practice of crystal healing.
"If (skeptics) don't understand it, that's totally okay because we experience it," she said. "(I) just encourage people to... allow themselves to be somewhat open and to just have an experience, and that way, they don't have to believe in anything."
Do You Believe in Magic?
I truly believe the harm that skeptics, like myself, have caused to this community is immense. We’ve been too rude! The moral of the story is: Keep your opinions on mysticism to yourself and let these kind people practice (religion or otherwise) in peace. Their eccentricities are their own.
I may not believe the same things as those who practice the mystic arts, but my foray into their community was filled with nothing but kind answers to my curious questions.
I still have a bone to pick with the palm reader I met at 11, though. No amount of mystic questions will provide a concrete answer to the anger I feel toward that woman to this day.
Edited by Savannah Dagupion, Leah Mesquita and Audrey Eagerton.
This story is part of The Horror Issue, which was released on November 1, 2024. See the entire publication here.
Reach the reporter at amazzill@asu.edu and follow @BellaMazzilli on X.
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