Holding Time In Our Hands


Time is such an elusive quality, she thought. Can we really hold it in our hands? Time just seemed to slip away, for no reason. It was there, and then it wasn’t. The times that she tried to hold onto it were the times when she became the most frustrated.

Life went so much better when she ignored time, when it held only a minimal place in her life. Time seemed to be the curtain opening and closing on the performance of life.

The ebb and flow of life was just that – movement that was never meant to end.

(c) August 2017 Bonnie Cehovet
Reproduction prohibited without written permission.




In the beginning, it was all just a project – create a new world, and see where it goes. It had people, animals, vegetation, water, soil – everything needed for life. And so there was life. I wanted to be hands off in this project – in that everyone and everything had their own free will. So be it – everyone and everything made their own decisions, and reaped their consequences. There are always consequences.

The current consequence – chaos. Chaos of mind, chaos of heart. History repeating itself – which should never, ever happen. I will stand back, and we will see where this goes.

(c) February 2017 Bonnie Cehovet
Reproduction prohibited without permission from the author.

Midnight Serenade

Image is that of The Lovers, from the “Margarete Petersen Tarot”.

Looking into the mirror she saw herself … as she was all those many years ago. Hopeful, filled with energy, ready to take on the world. Take on the world? She actually thought that she could create her own world … and for a while, she had. Then life took over. She put the mirror away, and lived the life that was presented to her. Everything was so clear, so “black and white”.

Then she started wanting her life back. Not to just live a life, because she was already doing that. She wanted to live her life, on her own terms.  The sharp, sharp scissors came out, and she started snipping things away. The collage that was her life started to change, to morph, to take on new form. Somehow, the mirror appeared in front of her again, as if by magic. She began to see new shapes in it, new hope.

Life began to get a bit scary, as new things opened up for her. She began to look at things, and people, in a new way. The light came back into her eyes … her backbone became straighter. The visions in her mind were swirling around with great urgency, urging her forward into the unknown. The voices became much clearer. Oh, yes, this particular mirror came equipped with images and voices.

With one last look at the mirror, with its antique gold frame, she calmly walked through the gateway that it was offering her, never to turn back.

(c) October 2011 Bonnie Cehovet


The Diary

I stood there, with the diary in my hand. One whole year out of my life – one whole year! Each day nicely annotated- this project finished, this project started. Lunch meetings here, dinner meetings there. A few days spent on the California coast, a few up in Canada. Good times with friends, old and new. Networking with new contacts, in a new field. This was the fun stuff – something that I did because I enjoyed it. It was not my field – I really had no business working in it. But my strengths came into play here – my ability to research, my ability to write a good letter.

And so it was, that over the course of the year, I developed a solid presence in this new field – a very small cog in the larger scheme of things, but one that kept things moving smoothly.  A site that was respected became more so – it’s voice heard on an unobtrusive but consistent basis,accurately reflecting the world that it moved in.

The projects undertaken – each of them successful in their own right. Two books published, another on its way. Radio shows, speaking engagements,  book signings – they all became part of life. A very new and different life.  Still, a low profile was maintained. Still, it all seems like a dream.

Is my new house real? Did I actually move back to a city that I had spent seventeen years in? Am I finding what I expected to here? Am I happy here? Okay – define happy! Does lack of unhappiness indicate happiness? Does having work that you lo ve to do make you happy?

If I throw the diary away,does that wipe away the traces of this past year? Am I back at square one, in my old house, in my old life? Does the contract sitting on that table over there vanish too? The one that wants me to write a trilogy? If there is no evidence, was the life still well lived?

There is a lot of pain in that diary, along with the good times. The joy is balanced with the sorrow, the path at times not well lit. Let me place this diary with all of my other diaries. They are my touchstones, my proof that there was a life. Someday someone may want to know that.

Image from the “Tarot Lovers Diary 2011”, Karyn Easton, www.paranormality.com.

(c) February 2011 Bonnie Cehovet