I'm feeling light as a feather and my mind is quiet. For the past hour, I was lying on a massage bed while Elle Marston, a Boston-based metaphysical practitioner, worked their Reiki magic on me. Now, as we share cups of decaf coffee in their studio, I'm learning that holding the energy of the universe in your palms isn't as glamorous as it seems.
In an age when it seems everyone and their mother is dabbling in tarot, crystals, and astrology, the public appears to be validating alternative-spiritual practices more and more each day. According to a 2018 Pew Research Center study, 4 in 10 Americans believe in psychics, and around 1 in 5 Americans claim to have consulted a psychic at one point in their lives, according to a 2017 YouGov study. Yet workers in alternative-spirituality industries continue to struggle with the financial and social challenges that have shadowed this kind of work for centuries.
Spiritual workers may not draw much attention from economists, but they juggle similar financial concerns as gig workers and small-business owners — while also battling misconceptions about their trade. Some people “think that I'm doing devil worship or something," Marston says with a laugh.
“I help people to remember who they are," says Gayle Stacher, 64, a New York City-based tarot reader with more than 30 years experience. “My style is more therapeutic, less predictive.” She is highly cognizant of accusations of predation and fraud attributed to tarot readers by mainstream culture and wishes the general public understood what it takes to build a career as a self-employed reader.
Many readers and healers do not identify as professional psychologists, nor do they take the place of a licensed therapist or counselor, though some say they carry out some counselor-like services. “I’m not a licensed practitioner, but I have a list of resources. This is often the beginning point of someone looking at themselves," Stacher explains. "There’s an opportunity for someone to move to a deeper place of self-understanding with a professional, and then I pass that off [to a professional].” In other words, a spiritual consultation may spark introspective questions within the client that may lead them to further self-exploration through other means.
Much like a therapist, “no one psychic or astrologer is going to have all the answers for you,” says Kitty Knorr, a 26-year-old creative coach and tarot/astrology reader. False assumptions about the omnipotent seeing powers of a reader can set up clients for disappointment, contributing to common notions of readers as frauds.
Marston, now 35, was in touch with their intuition from a young age, slowly building a career as a magic practitioner as they became inspired by other professionals. During the pandemic, they launched Open Hand Reiki in Cambridge, Massachusetts. “In therapy, you go to see someone to help rearrange your brain. With Reiki, we’re moving around stagnant feelings," Marston says. "I aim to provide a service that allows a person to feel held in that moment. Then whatever healing comes along afterward is in their own power.”
Though sometimes scoffed at, metaphysical therapies can benefit patients suffering from both physiological and psychological distress. Studies have confirmed that Reiki, for example, works better than placebo. “Almost all the hospitals in Boston have Reiki programs," Marston points out. "But the general public doesn’t understand what it is. As a whole, people think it’s super ‘woo woo.’”
Thanks to the internet, knowledge about spiritual professionals has spread among younger generations. Knorr began her career as a tarot/astrology reader on TikTok, and has since amassed more than 150,000 followers. “When 2020 came around, I started posting TikTok tarot readings," she recalls. "At the same time, a tarot/astrology niche formed on TikTok, and that’s when people started asking me for personal readings.”
Even those with a large following on social media, like Knorr, find it difficult to make ends meet. “I never put a cap on how many readings I took, out of fear," she says. "When I was feeling overwhelmed and burnt out, I started going live on TikTok and doing cheaper readings, $15 or $20, to desperately make money when I really needed it. After two years, I started to feel burnt out. Towards the end I picked up another part-time gig. Turning that side of me into a business didn’t seem sustainable.”
To fulfill their jobs responsibly, healers and readers often spend significant time outside of work learning about the history and strategies of their trade. In addition to the formal training required to become a certified Reiki healer, Marston has to do unseen labor to ensure that their practice sets up clients for success, such as customizing studio space for individual client needs and reviewing intake forms and notes from previous sessions.
“There’s the expense of self-learning," Stacher adds. "If I take a class that’s directly related to my work or buy tarot decks, oracle decks, books, that’s all a part of the expense of doing this."
Despite recognizing the value in their work, many spiritual guides struggle with the transactional aspect of the practice. Historically, those in spiritual professions have often operated on gift economies, healing the community while seekers contribute to their material needs. “With magic and healing, the tradition is that you don’t charge for these services," Marston notes. "But some people don’t want to pay. So it’s a reclaiming of your own value. It’s a lot of personal energy, so you have to charge what you’re worth to keep your doors open.”
Even while juggling two or more jobs at the same time, many spiritual workers often create paths to keep their services accessible via a sliding scale, discounts, and bartering. Marston, for example, reserves one day a month for generously discounted rates for students, service workers, and people of other low-income demographics. “I will never turn away someone from lack of funds," Marston says. "I’m open to having conversations about price. I know when I was a student, I couldn’t afford to do Reiki regularly. I remember thinking to myself, Wow, if I was doing this once a month, how would I feel? What would my mental health be like?”
Similarly, Stacher offers a sliding scale for clients who are struggling financially: “I feel like when I was young, I was hungry for that experience. People are often confused by that. I tell people to pay what you feel you can pay.”
The economic precarity of our current moment forces spiritual workers to meet their clients where they are to facilitate lasting relationships. Reflecting on their Reiki clinic, Marston says, “It has been a weird year. Everyone’s just making a little less money and has fewer clientele coming back. I know what I’m worth and that I’m good at it, but I also want it to be accessible for people. I had to figure out, in order to keep clients, how I can cater to what they can afford, given the economy.”
Spiritual guides are also susceptible to insecurity because of having to manage the residual burdens of hundreds of years of backlash against the occult. Stacher says, “I’ve had experiences when it’s been upsetting when someone doesn’t value what I do. I’ve asked my therapist, ‘Should I get a real job?’ My therapist told me, ‘You do have a real job.’”
The healers interviewed for this story are generally optimistic about the direction of their career and the recognition of alternative-spiritual work as a whole. Looking back on the course of her career, says Stacher, “I’m so proud of how much I’ve been able to move.”
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