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Rebecca Eckler tracks down the fortune teller bringing T.O. to tears
Good news travels fast, but bad news? Off-the-charts speed. So when a woman, who calls herself an “intuitive,” develops a reputation for making the ladies of Rosedale and Forest Hill bawl their eyes out, well, it wasn’t long before everyone was talking about it.
It turns out her name is Tara Antler. Though she has a website, she operates through word of mouth. And as someone who hasn’t cried since they cancelled Sex and the City, I felt up to the challenge.
Calling herself a “facilitator,” Antler says she assists with seeing your life’s path and vision with clarity and uplifts it to its highest expression and form, thereby allowing it to manifest in this physical reality and opening the client to more possibilities than ever before imagined.
Did I mention she hears dead people as well? I headed to Antler’s address and ended up at Post City theatre columnist and author Allan Gould’s house. Weird already.
“I’m here to see Tara,” I tell him, and he directs me around to a side door, as if there’s nothing odd about people pounding on his door searching for the fortune teller who makes people cry.
Antler welcomes me with a hug. At 33, she’s very pretty with long blonde hair and a surfer look. I like her immediately. We head upstairs to her airy apartment with high ceilings and a massage table in her living room area. First, we sit and talk on her couch. “So what’s going on?” she asks.
Now, I’m quite the professional when it comes to dealing with intuitives and fortune tellers, and I never give anything away. “Not much,” I answer. She tells me that my mind is in a hundred different places and that I’m very busy. OK. Welcome to Toronto, lady.
We make small chat for a little bit, and she tells me that she’s going to read me by giving me a massage.
“Some people I can read them sitting here and then give them a massage, but I think I’ll get a better reading if I do it while massaging you.” She massages me in specific areas such as the lower back, my head, my sides. She also massages me, I learn, with her eyes closed.
“OK, I’m seeing someone. It’s your grandmother,” she says. “Actually I’m seeing two people. One is kind of a joker, and he keeps popping his head in.”
I immediately think of my great uncle, who was such a jokester and would be the type of man who would “pop” into my reading. She tells me that my grandmother didn’t really enjoy life so much (this life), which is somewhat true. She had been housebound for a good 20 years, due to arthritis.
“But now,” says Antler. “She’s really, really enjoying herself. She’s really living it up, up there.”
And this is when I start to tear. They are tears of joy that come with the thought that my grandmother is having a wonderful time and partying it up in the afterlife. “She also says to tell you that it’s all worth it.” Oh boy, here come the waterworks.
She tells me that, when it comes to relationships, I have always had one foot in and one foot out. True, except the man I have now is the man for me. She also tells me that I came into this world from a past life full of fear and that I was some sort of knight and now flit around like a fairy. Uh, OK, well, knights are cool.
She tells me that my mother and I have issues (Who doesn’t have issues with their mother?) and that I need to be more open to her, trust her more and have a bigger heart, and to know she suffers from extreme anxiety. She tells me she’s cleared that energy path and I should no longer have problems. (Two days later, I head to my cottage to spend three days with my mother and not once did she annoy me.)
I tell her there’s something I really, really want and ask her if I will get it.
“It will happen, but there’s a project you have to finish first.”
A project? I don’t really have projects. Then it hit me. The book I’ve been taking forever to write. “Yes,” she says. “That’s exactly what Spirit is saying.”
Antler has had a strong intuitive sense since her childhood. Her first memory, at age two, was of seeing angels in her crib. “But they weren’t the angels we think of. I knew they were angels, but it was just like seeing lights.”
Antler will not tell you horrific things. "I've asked the Spirit not to show me horrific things. And sometimes the Spirit will tell me not to tell clients certain things because it will deter them from their path."
She charges $120 for the first visit and $140 for follow-ups. I see a computer on her desk and I ask, “Did you Google me? I just want to know the truth.”
She says she prefers to know nothing about her clients ahead of time. Before I leave, I ask how often one should see her — is it like a facial and one should go once the season changes?
“You’ll know when you need to see me again.” And you may need to bring some Kleenex.
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Reader Comments:
where is she located?