If I did not have faith, I would say that the tarot cards were mistaken. 

I woke up feeling like death warmed over, and I said as much to my bride. She told me I looked really hot for a guy my age; I said “thanks” and patted her seeing-eye dog. To prove her point, she placed my tarot card deck before me and suggested I pick a card. I picked the “chariot” card and the result was very encouraging: ‘Victory, speed, action, determination, energy vitality, confidence.’

For those uninitiated, tarot cards date back to the 15th century. Originally they were used for some popular card games, but some special decks were created with supposed psychic powers. How it works is you fondle the deck, ask a question, pick a card and the card you tells you stuff you don’t know. 

Since the news has been so depressing, I’ve lately become a fan of many new age options, psychics, astrologists and tarot card readers. My buddy gave me my own deck for Christmas. I will often consult them with questions like, “Should I empty the dishwasher or wait until my mate does?” 

Though I’ve had fun with the cards as a form of entertainment, I’ve questioned if there was any spiritual proof of accuracy. Then I remembered when I was recently searching for my lost sunglasses, I resorted to chanting that classic ditty that we Papists were taught provides divine help locating missing items: “Saint Anthony, Saint Anthony, please come around, something is lost and it can’t be found.” 

After much reflection I’ve come to believe all that psychic stuff is at least as accurate as Saint Anthony.    

These last few weeks have been a cocktail of sickness, self-abuse and burning the candle at both ends. After recovering from a horrible, two-week cold and a mild case of COVID, I attempted to make up for lost time by recreating like a man half my age (that is, if that man half my age moved at the speed of a glacier). 

After a day of backcountry skiing with friends who were so far ahead I could not have shot them with a deer rifle, I hoped to come home and relax. No sooner had I sat down with some Irish tea and a trashy novel when I got a call from a neighbor telling me that snow melting off the roof of our rental unit was threatening to flood in through the front door. 

After a fairly big snow cycle we’ve had crazy warm temps which have caused the snow on the roof to drip like my personal plumbing. I headed over to our rental and, upon inspection, there was in fact a small, 3-inch deep lake about to make its way over the threshold. This could do some damage to both foundation and carpet while turning our place into a “swim-in-swim-out” residence. Our tenant was working a double, so I was on my own. What followed was over two hours of snow shoveling and using a pickax to create a 5-foot trench through ice to allow the run off to flow away from the front door towards Denver. 

The next day, my back, shoulders, neck — everything was sore. But according to the tarot cards, that was all in my imagination.

Misguided or not, I had faith. The fact that they told me I was not as tired as I felt was a relief. Upon reflection, I did feel kind of vital and energetic. I’ve always felt confident — though some say it’s more like conceit. 

It has been said that snow shoveling is good exercise. Somehow, I doubt that. At our local gyms and recreation centers you can find running, biking, rowing and even ladder climbing machines. I have yet to see a snow shoveling machine.  

After drinking enough mud to alter the course of the Super Bowl yet feeling no effects, I consulted the tarot cards to see if my fatigue was real or only in my imagination. That’s when, “Victory, speed, action, determination, energy vitality, confidence.” showed up. My feelings be damned — I chose to have faith in that finding. 

Nietzsche suggested, “Faith is not wanting to know what is true.”

Some other guy said, “A sad Socrates is better than a happy pig.” 

Honestly, I have no idea what that “happy pig” quote means. I asked the tarot cards and they suggested I fry up some bacon and look for my sunglasses.

Jeffrey Bergeron’s column “Biff America” publishes Mondays in the Summit Daily News. Bergeron has worked in TV and radio for more than 30 years, and his column can be read in several newspapers and magazines. He is the author of “Mind, Body, Soul.” Bergeron arrived in Breckenridge when there was plenty of parking and no stoplights. Contact him at biffbreck@yahoo.com.