Yeah, I’m a Funny Psychic. (I’m Also Very Good.)

Holistic expos are always fun for me, but sometimes it’s for a reason folks wouldn’t expect.

The way clients normally decide on their intuitive on any given day is to pay their admission and, then, slowly work their way down the line of booths — picking up brochures, talking to front people, and seeing if they can “suss out” who we are and if we are really any good.

They hear the same buzzwords over and over: ”third generation psychic,” “clairvoyant,” “such-and-such percent accuracy rate,” and so on.

They read testimonial books, which all say the same version of “This reader is awesome, they were right on the money and very accurate, they helped me so much, thank you.”

This process is natural and a good way for people, especially those who don’t know much about how we psychics work, to get a feel for the standards of the industry.

But what happens when you hear the same words over and over?

If everyone seems to be able to read cards, talk to spirit guides, reach the dead, find your past lives — then, it comes down to personality.

And practitioners at an expo are like the physicians in a large medical practice. We may have different specialties: mine, for instance, is past lives. Someone down the row may be a fine palmist. Another may be excellent at psychometry. And a third may be a crack medical intuitive.

When it really comes down to it, the final “click” is going to come from the intangible “client-side manner” of one intuitive over another.

Whether it’s someone who is soft and gentle, someone cool and objective, or someone who is Brooklyn-blunt, they will find the practitioner whom they feel understands them the best and from whom they’ll get the most help.

I do two things that are apparently rare: I explain things in Everyman language, and I make you laugh.

I find enormous joy in my work, and it shows. I love being able to take a deer-in-the-headlights rookie client and turn them on to what can be found in metaphysics.

It’s a kick when someone comes to me expecting smoke and mirrors and fancy talk, and I can send them on their way after a session that’s hit home on so many levels they can’t deny “something worked.”

And, I know it’s been a great day when someone says to me, “I didn’t know you were allowed to laugh during a reading.” Of course you are!

To believe that metaphysical or spiritual information must be delivered in a somber and didactic manner is to miss half the fun. And the best practitioner I know of mirthful metaphysics is Swami Beyondananda, the wisecracking alter ego of Steve Bhaerman.

Here’s how Steve sees it on his website, Wake Up Laughing (wakeuplaughing.com):

Our mission is to promote awakening and laughter: Awakening to the evolutionary understanding that we are each and all cells in a new super-organism called Humanity, and laughing compassionately about the obstacles we humans have put in our own way.

We seek to move forward what we call an “up-wising” — waking up and wising up to our true human potential, and engaging millions to participate in the greatest adventure in human history: Conscious evolution.

The comedy is intended to heal the heart and free the mind, to offer incisive insights into inconvenient truths (and convenient lies), and to do so through the eye of love.

So, how can someone put this into a reading? “Being in the Present Moment” and “Being in the Now” are big ideas. People need examples, so I pull out the story of the Dog’s Diary (imagine this with vocal characterization and happy-dog-action).

Ever seen how a dog lives? Here’s his daily diary:

Woke up this morning! My favorite!

Oooh, ate breakfast! My favorite!

Yay, went for a walk! My favorite!

(Bath. Bummer)

Took a nap! My favorite!

Now, the dog is in the moment. There may be something he experiences that isn’t fabulous, but when it’s done, it’s done. He doesn’t think about it ahead of time and he doesn’t brood afterwards. There’s no “Oh, look at my breakfast dish. That’s Beneful Beef Stew. I love it. But I can’t eat this morning — I’m so upset. I have to have a bath at ten.”

No, the dog stays happily in whatever is happening Right Now.

Now this isn’t everyone’s style. And sometimes laughter isn’t the right means to convey information. If there is a lot of pain, or grief, or anger, there are other tools:

· Deep listening

· The non-directed dialogue

· Showing a range of future options, encouraging my client to make wise and compassionate choices for themselves and others.

If you’re a reader or a healer, don’t be afraid of a good joke. It may be precisely what you need to get your client to listen with both ears and their whole heart.

And if you are a client and the intuitive gets you giggling, it may be the wisest, most spiritually incisive thing they can do for you at that moment.

And, so, we end once more with the Swami’s words: “It’s time to take humor seriously, and seriousness humorously.”