THE LAST column of the year is always the hardest. Not because I’ve run out of ideas—nope, y’all are way too weird and interesting for that to happen—but because I get a little overwhelmed with transitions.
Most folks are dancing a Tecktonik jig to see 2017 left behind in the rearview mirror like a mountain of used cat litter and broken lawn furniture, and believe me, I’m vogueing and jerking right along with you.
This year has brought dung storms both figurative and literal, from the plutocratic crapnado in Washington to the rivers of raw sewage unleashed by hurricanes in Texas and Puerto Rico.
2017 will also go down as the year the impossibly surreal became everyday reality, evidenced by the talking turd in the White House and how squiggle-shaped eyebrows became a thing.
There have been some majestic moments, too, like when the sun disappeared into totality and some of the patriarchy’s most loathsome pervs got fired.
Still, it’s been a lot to handle, and if next year is going to be as dizzyingly irrational as this one, I’d like to be prepared, ideally by booking a seat on Space X’s first Uber to Mars. If that waiting list is too long, I’ll settle for a trip on one of the Pentagon’s UFOs.
At the very least, it would be nice to have a few clues on what to expect here on earth in 2018, which is why I put in a call to The Savannah Psychic. It seems plenty of other folks clamoring to know what’s in store for the next year, because TSP has been making the rounds at holiday parties all month, the lines for her readings snaking around the crudité tables at Custard Boutique and Paris Market. I never caught a glimpse of her at these gatherings, however, as I was too busy chatting up the punch bowl.
You’d think nothing else could shock me after this upside-down year, but it was a bombshell to discover that the city’s eponymous clairvoyant is not a wizened crone wearing a turban and wielding tarot cards in Colonial Cemetery.
Instead I was delightfully surprised to meet Christi Powell, a chic, quick-witted blond in pearls who looks more likely to prepare my taxes than reveal the secrets of the universe, which is awesome because haven’t we all learned by now that defying expectations is what this year was all about?
Describing herself as a “recovering corporate ladder climber,” Christi moved to Savannah via Chicago after a transcendental vacation led her away from a soul-sucking work environment and the biting cold to begin a new career as a professional oracle in the Hostess City.
She first realized she was psychic as a child in the Midwest, but shut down her gifts after several disturbing premonitions came true.
“You can’t talk about that stuff in Kansas,” she says drolly as we add sugar to our tea.
I swirl my cup around so she can read the leaves, but Christi just laughs.
“I don’t use any tools or anything,” she explains, adding that she honed her abilities in her late 20s at Chicago’s InVision School, founded in 2003 with the philosophy that everyone has psychic capacities that can be developed. “Some people have more natural proficiency that others, but it’s really an innate human gift.”
“So, no crystal ball?” I ask, thinking this situation isn’t nearly weird enough for the end of 2017.
“No, but I can pull one up on my phone if you like,” she offers with a grin.
I shrug and spill out my list of burning questions for 2018, including what will go into the vacated Save-A-lot on Bull Street, how many Congressional seats will get flipped in November, and most importantly, will the Dawgs win the Rose Bowl on New Year’s Day and what will the point spread be so I can bet on it and become fabulously rich?
Again, Christi shakes her head with a tinkling giggle. “I don’t do that either. What I do is work with energy, clearing out and healing old patterns and identifying possibilities.”
She admits she sees potential outcomes “like a movie,” but doesn’t present them as immutable conclusions.
“When you put energy into the future, it changes it everything,” clarifies the thoroughly modern medium, agreeing that this is in the same vein as the quantum physics theorem that demonstrates how observation affects results.
“Everyone has free will, and everyone has the right to a surprise.”
She also scoffs at New Year’s resolutions, which she says set people up for failure.
“Let go of expectations, and better things will come in,” she counsels. “The best ways to invite positivity in your life is change up your routine—it can be a simply as getting new bedding or going to a different coffeeshop. Doing anything new that excites you is empowering.”
Christi gives private readings and performs healings for a growing list of clients, but doesn’t encourage regular visitations—“I’m not a therapist, and I don’t want people to use me as a crutch.” She says she’d rather help people help themselves and has developed a five-week program for athletes, actor and entrepreneurs to help focus their visions and manifest them into the physical plane.
She promises she has her off-days, cracking jokes about not predicting a recent plumbing fiasco at her downtown carriage house and tagging posts on the @TheSavannahPsychic Insta account with #psychicfail.
Nevertheless, when she closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths, the countenance of the cute 30-something transforms, her voice becoming slower and deeper.
She begins with answering my general questions, offering a study of Savannah itself, which she describes as a “very feminine essence held down somewhat by old Southern traditions, but constantly filling with fresh, creative energy,” boding well for prosperity and peace in 2018.
Moving on to the convoluted cloud of my personal life, she astonished me by revealing intimate knowledge she couldn’t possibly have been aware of, then “blew up” my aura to ensure that I’m not carrying over any stale energy from the old year. There was a subtle sensation, like my aura finally got to take off a pair of too-tight Spanx.
I wasn’t able to get the UGA game results out of Christi, but she did mention getting a glimpse of me frolicking in the South of France, so that’s cool.
While our friendly neighborhood soothsayer reminds that the future is never set in stone, she predicts that 2018 could be pretty darn super, as long as I keep the hand-wringing neurosis under control—a recommendation she extends to all.
“Having fun is the quickest way to clear energy,” she advises. “The best way to bring in the good stuff is to lighten up.”
So let’s heft 2017 onto the Great Garbage Fire of Auld Lang Syne, rejoice and raise a toast: Here’s to a brand spanking New Year bursting with possibilities, the future ready to be written by our own hands.
