“Sisterfriend, I found this place that does free energy healings every Thursday. You want to go?” I called Yoga Girl as soon I found the Clairvoyant Center of Chicago.
“Oh, absolutely. Sounds like an adventure, Sisterfriend.”
“I was thinking dinner after work and then find our way to the Center for a healing.”
“Hey, maybe we could swing by the Chakra Shoppe to see Blanche. I’m thinking I need some more crystals.”
I absolutely love Yoga Girl’s unquestioning willingness to set off on an unexpected adventure, as well as her ability to up the thrill quotient with her own contribution.
We’d been going to the Chakra Shoppe for quite some time, and have found it is the Target for the New Age, with a wide selections of crystals, incense, books, herbal teas, chakra sprays and lotions, music CDs, and candles, all organized into departments by chakra, as if they are as ubiquitous as housewares and sporting goods. Like Target, we always manage to find stuff we didn’t know we needed, and it’s hard to get in and out of there for less than one-hundred dollars.
The place is run by a woman named Blanche Black who, with a name like that, was destined to specialize in chakra balancing and healing merchandising. Wearing flowing lavender gowns, she appears to be in her fifties, but Yoga Girl and I actually suspect she’s 253 years old, born amongst the Redwoods or something, preserved only by the chakra spray that she mists into her aura every day.
We looked at the merchandise, trying on hematite rings and tigers eye neck charms, picking up rose quartz figurines.
“Looks like that crystal wants you,” Blanche said with a shoulder shrug, a no-pressure sales technique the moment we drop something. “Looks like it picked you; it jumped.”
