The Client

I had a bad feeling when I booked this client, a feeling that intensified as I watched her shuffle the cards. The Tarot reflects the truth of the individual being read for – I was not at all sure that I wanted to know this client’s truth. Dressed in a conservative gray suit, with a chin-length hairstyle and minimal make-up, she appeared to be the professional that her business card claimed she was. I took the cards from her, and dealt three cards, face up. Justice, the Devil, and Death. I took a deep breath – this should be interesting!

(c) June 2019 Bonnie Cehovet
Reproduction prohibited without written authorization from the author.

 

Ghostly Lights

The old Carrington place – the deserted house at the end of the road. That is what I am talking about. We don’t go there anymore – not since Josh’s father died, and he inherited the house. Josh still lives right here in town – but he never goes to the house. Nor does anyone else. Strange things happen there – things that we don’t talk about. Lights on in the upstairs rooms – but only when there is a storm. And no shadows across the windows.  No noises, either. Just the lights, and only during a storm. Of course, it was storming the night Josh’s father died. The night that he fell down those stairs.

(c) January 2019 Bonnie Cehovet
Reproduction prohibited without written permission from the author.

The Garden

Images from “The Magic Moon Lenormand Oracle”, Heather Mendel, 2018.

Celine stood in the doorway, gazing around the garden. It looked like a stage setting, with the soft lighting, beautifully set tables, and the A-list of couture dressed people. Mark nudged her gently forward. She smiled, saying all of the appropriate words, but she felt like a bird in a gilded cage – which was exactly what she was. Here to help raise money for yet another project connected with the arts. She felt more at home negotiating deals.  But to do what you really wanted to do, to find your joy, you had to do what you had to do.

(c) May 2018 Bonnie Cehovet
Reproduction prohibited without written permission of the author.

The Path Out

Images from the Inspirations For Survivors deck (Aunia Kahn & Russell J. Moon, Schiffer Publishing, 2012).

We have been physically ill ever since that day, the day that … well, “that” day. Then it expanded to all of our selves – our emotions, our thoughts, our spirit. We walked around like proverbial zombies, not knowing what to do, as our world crashed around us.

We had to do something, so we packed our bags. We packed what we needed, and set the rest aside. Then we sat, with our bags packed, wondering where to go. When the mind is clouded, it is difficult to see our options.

Finally, we took that first step.

(c) March 2017 Bonnie Cehovet
Reproduction prohibited without written consent from the author.

Traces

Image from “Oracle of Visions”, 2011, Ciro Marchetti.

The dream came to me clearly, as it always did. One moment I was sleeping, the next I was standing there, draped in a red, hooded cloak, holding my hands in front of me. I knew that I was deep in the forest – I always knew this. I felt that I was somehow in the center of a circle, but I never saw the other people. All I saw was the forest around me, misty, yet protective.

I knew that I was there to learn … but to learn what? This dream had been coming to me, off and on, for several years now. I always felt as if I was being watched, but that the Watcher was there to guide me in some way. That it was part of the forest, that it was my allie.

Perhaps that is the secret that I am meant to learn – that the Watcher is my allie.

(c) August 2011 Bonnie Cehovet

 

 

 

The Letter

Image from “Oracle of Visions” by Ciro Marchetti, 2011.

The scent of roses surrounded Antoinette as she sat in the morning light, sipping her coffee. This was her place of refuge, filled with quiet, and random splashes of color.  She liked her life the way it was now … calm, organised, everything in its place. She drew a rose out of the vase in front of her, careful not to prick her fingers with the thorns. Such lovely, silky, intoxicating petals. She inhaled their scent, and allowed her mind to blur at the edges.

That was exactly how she always thought of it … as her mind blurring at the edges. It was never good to bring things into too sharp a focus … the hurt was always there, waiting to become real again. It was twenty years ago today that she had received the letter … a letter that was to change her life.

Geoffrey had been very kind, as he always was. He had invited her to his family estate … an open invitation. She was welcome to stay as long as she wished. His sister would be visiting for the summer, and he felt that it would be good for her to have a companion.  Antoinette knew Virginnie well. She was a lovely lady, much too young to be dealing with the issues that she was dealing with … the death of her husband, and the very surprising details of his estate. Yes, the invitation had been accepted, but for her own reasons.

It would be good to be away from the city, away from all of the memories that pressed on her there. Her brother … well, she would not think of that. In time, her brother would regain his good name. Her father would see to that. Her mother chose seclusion as the method of preference for dealing with the situation, but Antoinette could not do that. She wanted more from life … which is why she had accepted Cyril’s proposal in the first place. He was dashing, well accepted in society, knew all the right people. Unfortunately, he seemed to also know all the wrong people. Her father tried to suggest as much, but neither she nor her brother had listened.

She had broken the engagement, of course, as soon as her brother’s troubles became evident. Cyril had not been touched by the scandal … he had seen to that. Paid people off, she imagined. No matter … her father would make things right. And in time, that is exactly what had happened. Her brother opened his own business, married well, and had a family. Her mother … well, she was ever changed by the things that had happened.

The letter was still in the drawer in Antoinette’s desk.  She would take it out from time to time, just to touch base with reality. She had accepted Geoffrey’s invitation to stay with his family. It had been a lovely, healing time. At the end of the summer, Geoffrey had asked her father for her hand in marriage, and she had accepted. She had a good life …a lovely home, an adoring husband, three healthy children. But she always wondered what life would have been like had Cyril been what she thought he was, rather than what he really was.

Antoinette placed the rose back in the vase. It was time to start her day.

(c) July 2011 Bonnie Cehovet

 

 

 

 

Moving Forward

 

 

 

Image from Ciro Marchetti’s “Oracle of Visions”, independently published, 2010/2011.

Kendra sat looking at the photo – it was exactly as she had pictured it in her dream. She was walking along the shore, with the waves lapping softly at her feet. Always moving forward, as if her feet were an inch or two above the sand, never quite touching it, but always knowing that it was there. She floated along, as if by magic.

The sound of the waves was ever present, washing away the past … all those years, all those places, all those people. She was moving forward into her own life, at warp speed it seemed at times.  There was a soft mist around her, but in her heart she felt as if she was seeing everything clearly, as if for the first time.

She looked up, and saw stone monuments floating in the sky. They represented freedom to her … freedom from her physical past, but also freedom to connect with her ancestral past. What wisdom was there for her? Where was her path taking her?

The minute she made the decision to move forward, she felt the responsibilities of life falling away. She felt herself coming into balance – a sorely needed balance. This time she would make it. This time she would rejoin her sisters, the Benet Gesserit. She remembered what the she had been told by the Reverend Mother before she left on her journey:

” I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.”

Bene Gesserit Litany Against Fear (From “Dune”, by Frank Hebert.)

(c) July 2011, Bonnie Cehovet