I was leaving a venue in Minneapolis when I saw a neighboring attraction, a re-staging of an award-winning immersive play by a Minnesota playwright. The play was called Minnesota Tarot Theatre. I heard my friend Adam Gorightly exclaim at a separate entrance how interested he was in this. He entered that entrance as I and my companion entered ours. My brother, David Stenshoel, was the composer for the play. Apparently that is why the director knew who I was right away. He separated me from my companion and took me to a separate room, where he said he was “going to initiate” me into The Tarot. I saw before me a large room made of wooden walls, floors, and ceilings. It was largely devoid of furniture, but on the floor were small flat lingam-shaped stones or pieces of plastic. I was to lay flat on my stomach over them, presumably to absorb their powers. After that, since the man was a theater director watching, I improvised a few wild stunts mostly to impress him, or, perhaps, because I thought it might be expected of me. I decided maybe I had been over-the-top and I finished my activity.
Then the director said, “Here is your prize for participating.” He handed me a large reel-to-reel tape deck. I walked on a high beam of wood and heard a Civil War tune plaintively played on violin, and figured my brother David had arranged and played it.
When I rejoined the other theater-goers, they, too, were involved in many activities, but of a different sort. The director rejoined me long enough to say, “Now, the next step of the game is for you to give your gift away to someone.”