A Hand Full of Dreams

Fear and excitement grip my heart. I am not a writer by nature or by training. I tell my stories in individual experiences, in five senses, in three dimensions, using space as the platform. I am excited to push my boundaries, using Vocal to advocate for myself as an artist, a man, a warrior in the battle of love against fear. I’m grateful for this opportunity to reflect on the ways I’m creating my own happiness, and to rejoice in my newfound journey of curiosity and joy. I am Anthony Giannetti (he/him), and I am ready to share my dream of bringing people wonderous spaces that cultivate genuine connection.

Feelings of gratitude and joy emerged when I heard about this contest because it includes only one requirement - that “your hobby must include scissors,” and it sparked a huge smile. It also drew judgment from me, an all-too-common judgment that I direct at myself and drag myself down with: “that’s weird.” I’ve said those words to myself many times and it has drained creativity from me, put a space between myself and my potential, and tapped into deep childhood shame. But because of this contest, I began to reflect on all the simple machines, the mass-produced tools, the consumable materials, and pieces of equipment that have served me in inspiring ways, have opened doors for me, have saved me time, have facilitated the creation of art and beauty. I love my scissors. I honor my scissors. I treasure my scissors.

Why these strong emotions surrounding inanimate objects began to emerge was clear - they help me manifest my dream and my purpose in life. My dream is objectively small, yet to me, it’s the biggest, boldest quest of my life – to design and host the world’s first and only one-on-one immersive magical experience; a miniature world that carries you away with playful tricks on your senses, gives you insight into your authentic self, connects and grounds you to the world and your fate in it, yet fits into a 10x10 tent. The same tents used to sell veggies at the market, to demonstrate the newest gizmo at a convention, to shield the ticket taker at the local fair from the summer sun. I envision taking my hobby out of my home and touring local farmers' markets, arts festivals, craft fairs, and oddities/curiosities events.

My vision is to create a close-up show incorporating magical realism under the guise of a palm reader. Anyone who attends won’t know it’s an act, and they won’t know they’re going to encounter magic. It’s an intimate experience, where I invite the guest to sit across from me while I use the lines, mounts, and features on their palm to connect to the qualities, intentions, and deeper desires of the person. The hands are where universal source energy enters our body; the reading of the hands is like reading a map of human personality. The ancient practice requires education, concentration, and intuition. Tracing the lines on the palm sends a tingle down your spine, you can feel the mystery and possibility, you lean in with anticipation, you crave the truth, the truth about who you are behind the stories you tell yourself. And as your senses engage with the environment, you become lost in the atmosphere, but when you witness an illusion, you squint your eyes, distrusting your reality. Nevertheless, you smile heartily at the causal impossibility of it all. Is it theater or is this palm reader a genuine oracle, a healer, a teacher?

My vision is clear...

At the end of a row of vendors, a short distance from the hustle and bustle of the market, there is a quiet unassuming sandy tan but colorfully decorated tent, flags and flaps billowing peacefully in the breeze on the mast of a tall, gently rotating windmill. Outside is a man sitting quietly on a circular pillow, looking out into the distance thoughtfully, a small bowl in front of him, golden and smoking, wafting an odor of sacred incense and caramel and vanilla and leather couch. He catches your eyes and his eyes are piercing, a bright blue-white, an impossible color you’ve never seen before. He has a long beard, a wise posture, a strange outfit from parts unknown. He stands up and beckons you towards him, tapping a sign outside the tent that says “Palm Readings: Discover Your Truest Self” - and so you feel drawn in.

Once inside, it’s warm and cozy and crowded with all kinds of strange and curious objects. There’s a stone cauldron bubbling and oozing a light mist, twinkling glass beads are hanging from the ceiling, there are heavy tapestries with colorful patterns, soft and warm lights, and flames in lamps and candles surrounding you. Divination tools are scattered about, the ones you judge as stereotypical, tarot cards and crystal balls, but this is the first place you've ever been where you feel, you know, they belong. You sense safety but there's also something unsure as you wonder what’s going to happen. There are dangling pieces of stained glass art, rich embroideries with golden tassels, arabesque shelves full of bones and plants, and containers with strange glittery liquids.

The man sits down at a low table and invites you to sit across from him in a comfortable chair. The chair is Victorian, cushioned and plush, homey. You peek around and admire the dried herbs and plants and vines and cacti, and something gooey. To his left is a curly metallic and glass tea set, and he offers you a dark brown elixir, a very special blend of tea he says, and you are invited to allow it to uplift you, to ease some of your resistance. So you accept, with a shrug, willing to go with the flow. He’s speaking to himself in silly but focused whispers as he adds some ingredients and flourishes. And he pours the tea carefully, with sacredness and calm that puts you at ease. You pick up the cup - it smells rooty and real, not like a cup of Earl Gray, but like medicine. A little dark lump floating in the cup begins to unfurl and a lovely flower slowly blooms. He says “I always feel a cup of tea warms my hands as well as my heart, I just breathe more deeply. Hopefully, it may to ease you into an open and lighter mindset, so that you can benefit from what you learn here.” When he speaks to you he looks you in the eyes and he doesn’t look away until you do.

"I invite you to relax, you are here for the experience. I’ll ask you to let go of any expectations, unburden yourself of whatever you told yourself needs to happen, free yourself from any hopes for things to turn out one way or another. Remember that this is a snapshot of a larger journey. Anything you learn today can change tomorrow. This isn’t only about you, this is about now."

He reaches out and begins to cleanse your hand, massaging it gently while rubbing in a lavender-scented oil. He's intentional about how he moves your hand around, poking here and there, narrowing his eyes to examine a feature.

He looks closely at you, then sits back and looks behind and above you, and says “I judge that your light has a powerful source but is dimmed by your shadows, all the things you carried into this tent. I'd like to purify you so that you can let go of all the baggage and burdens, so you may be fully present in this space.” He pulls out a long bundle of black sage, wrapped in twine and charred from use. He holds it up for you to see - and Poof! Out of nowhere, a flame emerges with no source, no sound. The charred end of the sage is alight and smoking abundantly, he blows it out and lies it gently in an abalone shell with beautiful pearly inlays and uses a black raven feather to waft the sage around you. Astonished but too uncertain to say anything, you accept it, you take a deep breath and feel relaxed and clear. He explains the rituals of smudge and it’s captivating to hear how deep the roots of the ceremonies go.

He still looks uneasy, then sits back and asks, “are you feeling connected to your heart, feeling honest? I want you to unlock the part of yourself that is resisting to opening up, unlock your desires and your truth. I’m going to place a key in your hand, an old key, one that I found has an inner-knowing, a skeleton key for the human psyche if you will. I’m going to ask you to put your hand out, hold it level and steady, I’m going to place the key on your palm, and I want you to relax and think about using that key, unlocking a hidden place within, whatever that looks like for you, turning the key in your mind." You hold your hand straight out, straight as an arrow, and he lies the key in it. You close your eyes and breathe, feeling disbelief, but you sigh it out and let go for just a moment. Right then, you feel a movement, a ghost feeling in your hand, and you open your eyes to see the key slowly rotating. What is going on here? What was in that tea? He thanks you for being willing and puts the key away in a wooden box, a box with a peculiarly serious looking lock.

He prepares the table for the palm reading. He lies out a notepad, brings some candles closer, he looks around behind him for something, and while he's busy rummaging you hear a screechy noise coming from a dark corner of the tent, then there's a rattle of metal, a clanging sound, and a 2-foot iron birdcage in the back of the tent covered in a white cloth begins knocking and shaking, and you hear a strange crying roaring sound, and see two puffs of smoke emerge of a little hole as if they shot out from the nostrils of a lizard or dragon ready to spit fire. But you don’t see the dragon under the thick opaque cover. You just sense it's presence, and shake your head in disbelief. The busy palm reader turns, looking frustrated for just a moment, and yells at it in an exotic language you don't recognize, mixed with aggressive hisses, and the sounds settle down. You feel uneasy and start to understand that this feeling might be exactly what he wants. And he turns and says “don’t worry about that, he won’t bother us.”

He rejoins you at the table and asks you to hold up your hand, then lie it down once more, and begins to look closely at your dominant hand, asking questions about what you do and where you're from. He's using a magnifying glass and one of those compasses for making circles back in elementary school to measure small markings on your palm, taking little notes now and then. He seems confused, darting back and forth between two parts of your hand. He grabs a black leather book and he riffles through it. Every page is blank. He's looking for something that isn't there. He takes a deep, intentional breath, places his palm on the cover of the book, then he opens it again. Every page is littered with odd symbols you’ve neber seen before, something tells you they are ancient and witchy. And he nods in understanding and goes back to his work on your palm, never looking at you to see how you reacted to what just happened.

The palm reader asks you to put both hands in front of him. He pulls out a long narrow wooden stick and starts tracing the lines on your hands, just playfully moving around them, it's tickling you but also peaceful. As he traces he begins humming, his voice is deep. It's not a tune you recognize, maybe not a tune at all, it's the timeless, made-up tune of a man fumbling alone in his study, and you feel special, like you're privy to something private. You pause a moment, the sound is getting louder; slowly it builds, it grows, it surrounds you. It vibrates the entire tent, fills the space, it's deep and it’s reverberating. The chair is buzzing, the air is buzzing, the beads dangling from the ceiling jingle, the objects on the tabletop rattle and shimmy. Then he stops. The room falls silent, eerie. He speaks to you, jolting you out of your hypnosis.

He begins to describe in detail what he's seeing, all the while explaining things about your communication skills, the ways you learn, how patterns in your romantic life play out, how your energy moves over time, which areas of your life you are rigid and you are flexible, how to improve your willpower, why you're focused on ambition when you have all this untapped creativity available that will get you closer to your dreams. He's gently engaging and informing you as he goes, asking you personal questions, important questions. He doesn’t seem to be predicting the future, he’s identifying things about you that you hide, that you deny. You feel the resistance, but this place and this man, he's giving you permission to be with the hard things. And he’s helping you realize that they aren’t serving you, that you want to take another look at them. Yea, he’s right, these patterns aren’t helpful. He reminds you to breathe at regular intervals, to relax and remain in heart space. He pokes and prods and feels around and then comes back again. He lifts a bone-tipped magnifying glass, swivels a lamp overhead, and examines closely.

He’s reading your fate line and he seems blocked. He shifts, looking antsy, then takes a deep breath to refocus. He closes his eyes, keeps them closed, an audible breath of intention, and while he's doing that you notice a crystal ball on a table several feet away starts to glow, grow brighter, change colors, and you see the palm reader's face change as he meditates with his eyes closed; he looks angry and the crystal is red, he smiles and it turns yellow, then it quickly turns black when he opens his eyes and the light is gone. Now he leans into your fate line, and before he begins touching your hand he rubs his fingers together and smoke emerges from them in a little cloud, and that's impossible, but so many impossible things have happened in the last 20 minutes. This man sees you, he makes you feel like you matter. His questions burn in your heart while you wait with rapt attention and bewilderment for what's next. That's when he looks right into your eyes and says exactly what you need to hear. "I can't predict your fate; your fate is not on your hands, it’s in your hands. You have the power to choose.”

You sit in silence a moment. He asks you how you feel and you answer. He looks into your eyes and thanks you with tremendous sincere respect, saying nothing else. He offers to write a brief note or quote, whatever comes to him, and you accept. He turns around and you see him grab an ink pen made of glass and dips it into a blood-red liquid, maybe blood itself, and writes on a tattered sheet he pulls from beside him. Then he hands it to you folded up and asks that you don’t open it until you get home. He asks if he can stamp it with his name and contact info, inviting you to reconnect. You walk out of the tent and it’s bright outside, you feel light and happy and heavy and real, all at the same time. It was marvelous and magical. You are enchanted, you have work to do and you want to do it. As you’re walking away, you hear an intense high-pitched bell-like sound, a tuning fork knocked against a table, and this clear sound echoes inside of you, leaving your entire body ringing and aligned as you slowly walk away. You open the paper to get a quick glance as soon as you know he can't see you. There's nothing there. When you arrive home a few hours later, there is a message on the slip of paper, and you feel tears welling up as what's written hits you directly in the heart.

I feel tremendous energy of willingness, desire, and intensity to make this experience a reality. I get chills when I think of the possibilities and the impacts. It's the small actions that I take each day that will create this space. The space I’m building, one small feature at a time, will be peaceful, like an herbalist’s hut from a fantasy novel, covered in dried flowers, strange crafts, curious knickknacks, bottles of colorful liquids, smelling of spices, colorful yet natural. The whole experience is about using the senses to draw attention to the moment, so guests will be fully emotionally present and engrossed as I do my best to give people insight into their true selves, letting them know that their happiness is available to them, and conjuring childhood innocence and joy in the presence of real magic. My purpose, my goal in life, is to use this dream to co-create a more loving world by making a meaningful human connection through delivering spectacularly joyful experiences that immerse you in fantasy, yet affirm your real life.

Manifesting my dream is about more than making myself feel happy. It’s about allowing myself to be happy by carrying a message to the world that it’s ok to be who you authentically are, even if that doesn’t fit the box that your past and your family tried to put you in. As a single father, I realized that I was asking my 4-year old son Leo to always be himself, to dream big, and know that his dreams are possible. Yet I wasn’t modeling that for him – I was stuck in my corporate 9-5, spending my free time on the couch, distracting myself from the joy in my life, exchanging passion for comfort, choosing safety over risk, playing it small. It was only when I sought professional support for my mental health challenges that I began to pull myself out of depression by focusing on creating my own happiness and cultivating a conscious presence in the world. I have denied for too long the man I am, mostly because being creative, crafty, and spiritual was not masculine enough for me to be accepted by those who I hold dear. I feared rejection more than I desired happiness. But my vision for myself and the world has been too strong to let it sit by while I live a mundane life without the delights of imagination and connection.

In following my curiosity, I discovered that the growing enterprise of immerse experiences attracted me like a magnet – I work at a local haunted house each year, I love the expansion of VR/AR technology, and I’m obsessed with escape rooms and similar experiences. So I thought about what I could do to create an immersive experience, not as a business but as a way for me to meet new people, be the showman I know is inside me, connect genuinely and deeply with others, and give people a sensory explosion to carry with them in their hearts. I use the word "hobby" because it takes away so much of the pressure of needing to be a money-making project, of having to be for others and not just myself. It's belong to me, my hobby is reading palms, my hobby is curating experiences for others. Embracing that, I’m now constantly engaging in new ideas and crafts, I’m developing illusions and tricks that are just magical enough to have you guessing what’s real and what’s a show. This magical realism is the key to unlocking the inner child in everyone – that space floating between real and impossible.

What’s most amazing is that this pursuit of happiness doesn’t feel like a sacrifice, not in the same way that my job feels like I’m sacrificing my mental health, or my limited time with my son feels like I’m sacrificing self-care. No, this feels like it is self-care. I’m giving myself the gift of embracing the most authentic expression of my purpose. It’s not a compromise, it’s a promise to myself that I’m going to be the unabashed, powerful, awesome me. So often it’s difficult to make time for my hobbies, yet I’m finding ways to slip in a video on palm reading while I’m making my son’s lunch, to stay up that extra 10 minutes to practice a sleight-of-hand illusion just a few more times, to be brave enough to mention to anyone and everyone that this is going to happen, that I’m committed.

Having benefitted from a focus on mental health, I realized that the Create Your Own Happiness campaign is my opportunity to educate and contribute to removing the stigma of seeking help. Specific to this challenge, I realized the comfort that my orange-handled Fiskar scissors provide me. The familiarity quiets the voice of my fears of failure, and honestly, my fears of success. What a pair of scissors has made possible for myself and other artists is astonishing. I often feel like a conduit for the creative energy that flows through me, sometimes in drips, sometimes in a tsunami, and when it flows I need to get to work, quickly and efficiently. Taking action means using the tools and equipment that get things done, and one of the most frustrating and debilitating issues is using ineffective tools. I flow with ease when I’m engaged with my "good" scissors, the old-school orange-handled ones, because their reliability allows me to focus on the piece, not on the process. My scissors need to be agile, effective on dozens of different materials, comfortable, and smooth – I use them to cut imperceptible edges of a tarot card so I can immediately pick that card from the shuffled deck, a card like “Strength,” which is the one that so many people NEED to see; to trim the stems of the dried flowers I use in my potions and decorations to create a fragrant and safe space; to snip sheets of magician’s flash paper to the exact correct size for fire illusions (that one is very important!); to piece together the vision board that drives me toward my dream; to cut the invisible wire that holds up my displays; to literally shape the world I’m working to create from nothing.

As it stands now, I’m creating the experience as money, time, and materials become available. I’m sourcing as much as possible from thrift store finds, garage sales, dollar stores, and other bargain bins. Fashioning a luxurious and mysterious atmosphere requires creative crafting, lots of YouTube tutorials, help from mom, and an eye for hidden treasures. My goal is to take my hobby from home to full-fledged public performance by September 2021, in time for the autumn market circuit. With the funds and tools from this award, I’ll be able to afford a quality tent to protect from bad weather and heat, DIY some of the technical set design pieces that run many of the illusions, and even create a one-of-a-kind windmill that will serve as a flagpole with gorgeous tattered and colorful remnant fabrics while also supplying clean energy to run the illusions. I want to be agile, portable, and environmentally conscious.

I feel a deep desire to win the Create Your Own Happiness Challenge, and I’m setting the intention to manifest it without setting the expectation. I don't need anything to come from this work because this article itself is my therapy, my work, my re-centering of purpose. I don't want to win for validation, my joy has allowed me to not seek validation outside myself, but because I can scale my vision and carry my purpose further with the award. As a man in the world of creative craft, I often feel vulnerable and afraid to be myself, and I want to legitimize my dreams, to show the people who think I'm foolish for pursuing my happiness that connection and joy matter more than the material wealth and scarcity mindset.

As a mental health advocate, I have a deep appreciation for the tools that facilitate my work, that allow for innovative, focused flow, that help me see what’s possible for myself and my dream.

I am practicing expanding my perspective and showing up with an informed outlook on the world. I understand I may not be your ideal candidate for the first prize, but I believe strongly in equality amongst creators and I believe I hold the same intention as you do, to support under-represented people in the arts. I’m choosing to enter the contest with a full heart and to ask nothing more than that you consider me a spider, weaving a web where each strand is another person who sits in my tent, and they, in turn, connect to the next and the next, building a web sticky with love. I can contribute to creating human connection that carries outside that tent, to the lives of the people who feel seen and heard and understood and loved when they have their true self shone to them. I want to deliver experiences that become a brilliant light radiating love on a larger scale than my craft table. I desire to be selected to take my vision to people, to everyone, and I hope that aligns with your intentions. I create my own happiness when I use my passion to serve others.

With love and gratitude,

Anthony Giannetti

Stage name (still in beta-testing, lol) Anton the Cairomantic*

*chiromancy is the technical term for divination using the hands