Okay, look, I’m the kind of person who doesn’t just trust a quick Google search when my life is feeling like a dumpster fire. When I decided I needed to get some clarity on whether to pack up and leave Portland, or stick it out for another year, I didn’t want some flaky reader doing a cheap five-minute spread. I wanted the real deal. So, I started what I call The Portland Reader Deep Dive of 2024.
The Initial Grind: Sifting Through the Noise
My first move was to totally ignore the big, sponsored ads. Anyone paying for the top spot is usually pushing a commercial agenda, not spiritual guidance. I figured the best readers are busy and word-of-mouth keeps them afloat. So, I dove headfirst into the local rabbit holes.
I started with Reddit, specifically the r/Portland sub. I scanned every single thread that mentioned “Tarot,” “witchcraft,” or “spiritual reader” over the last three years. I wasn’t looking for recommendations that said, “Oh, this lady is nice.” I was looking for patterns—the same names popping up again and again, especially in threads where people were arguing about who was too good. When you see three different people calling the same person “unsettlingly accurate,” you know you’re on the right track.
Then I hit up the blogs for the weirder parts of town—Hawthorne, Belmont, and SE 82nd. I was physically looking for tiny, handwritten signs in shop windows, not sleek websites. I wrote down any storefront name that looked like it hadn’t changed since 1995. That’s how I managed to pull together a shortlist of four very different types of readers. It was a proper, messy list of names, phone numbers scribbled on napkins, and maybe a partial address.
The Practice: Booking and Going
I decided to book three separate sessions. I figured one reading is an opinion, two is a coincidence, but three readings with different people who all land on the same general truth? That’s something I can trust. I didn’t tell any of them what the others had said. My process was simple: I was going to them with one single, big question on my mind: “Should I stay or should I go?”
The first place I visited was this tiny little spot tucked behind a coffee shop on Division. The lady, let’s call her “Vee,” was super old school. She pulled out her beat-up decks, and I swear, the whole room smelled like old library books and frankincense. She didn’t ask a ton of questions. She just started shuffling and spit out the cards. She looked at the Tower, reversed, and immediately said my current situation was a beautiful disaster I was refusing to walk away from. She advised patience, saying the path forward wasn’t visible yet. It was soft, comforting, but maybe a little general.
The second reading was with a guy named “Jax” who operated out of a brightly lit co-op space downtown. This one was all digital booking and smooth transactions. He used one of those big, artistic decks, and his style was way more direct, almost like a life coach. He didn’t mince words. He slammed down the Ten of Swords and told me I was carrying the weight of someone else’s decision. He urged me to draw a clean line, essentially telling me to stop waiting for the universe and make the move myself. Total opposite of Vee, and honestly, a little aggressive for my taste, though maybe I needed that kick in the butt.
My third and final stop took me way out into the suburbs, to a home reader who only saw people on Tuesdays. Her name was “Theodora.” She had a small website but no social media, which I immediately liked. When I sat down, she looked at me and didn’t even touch the cards for the first five minutes. She just asked me why I was truly there. I spilled everything—the relationship drama, the job offer on the East Coast, the fear of starting over. When she finally laid out the cards, she didn’t focus on the “stay or go” choice. She focused on the Hanged Man and the Empress. She told me the cards weren’t telling me what to do, but that I already knew the answer, and my fear was spiritual paralysis. She said, “When you stop looking at the world upside down, the Empress will greet you.” She handed me a piece of paper and told me to write down my three biggest fears and then burn it when I got home.
The Core Lesson: Why Theodora Was the Best
So, why did I go through all this effort? Why not just flip a coin? Look, the reason I got so obsessive about finding the best reader is because I was fresh off a gigantic mistake I made last year—a business venture I rushed into without consulting anyone. And I mean, anyone. I was overconfident and it cratered, taking most of my savings with it.
I thought being a “rational” adult meant ignoring intuition and just crunching numbers. That belief system cost me a year of my life and a pile of debt I’m still paying off. I realized that the numbers hadn’t worked, so maybe it was time to try a different approach, you know? The desperation of that financial failure is what fueled me to find someone who could truly connect the dots in a way my spreadsheet never could.
This is what I learned from Theodora and why she was the top pick:
- She made me talk first. The best readers aren’t testing their skills; they’re testing your honesty with yourself.
- She didn’t tell me what to do. She told me why I was unable to decide.
- Her advice was practical—burn the fears, clear the energy. It wasn’t just mystical mumbo-jumbo.
Vee and Jax had moments of truth, no doubt. But Theodora helped me realize that the reading wasn’t about the cards; it was about forcing me to confront the decision I’d been avoiding. That’s what you pay for when you’re looking for the best in Portland. You pay for the shove you need to start moving again.
I ended up staying in Portland, by the way. Once I burned that stupid list of fears, the entire situation suddenly looked different. The clarity wasn’t in the cards; it was in the process of the search itself. You gotta do the homework if you want the real answers. That’s my only takeaway.
