The Truth Is Out There If You Know Who To Ask
How Wendy Tividad became the music industry's most sought-after intuitive reader.
By Corrine Ciani
Photos by Yana Yatsuk
Published
In Sherman Oaks, California, lies a doormat that reads “Namaste.”
With outstretched hands and a smile, Wendy Tividad, a highly sought-after intuitive reader and teacher, opens the door. She stands before me in a white floor-length dress with lengthy blonde locks and hot pink acrylics, both shimmering in the Valley breeze. She welcomes me into her home, which is embellished with a myriad of crystals, buddhas, and optimistic artwork. This is where she lives, and by the looks of it, I’m getting the sense that this is where she plays.
Wendy provides intuitive readings in person and over Skype that go for a minimum suggested gratitude donation of $300-600 per hour of reading. Her regulars include well-known creatives in the entertainment industry, including but not limited to musicians, writers, TV creators, and actors, whom she asks I not explicitly name in order to protect their identity. She makes it clear that she wouldn’t refer to herself as a psychic but rather connects more with the description of “a ball of light.”
“I don't even like to call myself anything because it's limiting. There are all these different ‘clair’s’: clairvoyant, clairaudient, clairsentient. I would say I read energy, and everything is energy,” she tells me. If she had to define what she does, she would describe it as soul-hacking. As one quite invested in my soul, I follow her to the room in her house where it all happens.
For an idea of the look of her reading room, her website, pureheartsessions.com, is an aesthetically accurate reference. All directions point to pink. Each object exhibits a particular softness—faux-fur sheep rugs, love letters on the wall, plush blankets, and chairs for guests to decompress in, all while bathed in natural light. Gustave Doré's depiction of Dante’s Divine Comedia drawing of Paradiso hangs on the wall. Spiritual novels, signifiers, and mementos line the shelves. The first song written by her daughter, Harmony Tividad and Avery Tucker, of the band formerly known as Girlpool, is framed. A handwritten card on display catches my eye and reads, “EVERYONE WISHES YOU WERE THEIR MOM.”
“Look, just don’t make me out to be some freak, okay?” she asks as I take a seat.