The first time she met me for a reading, Myra wore a baggy, dark blue maxi dress that swamped her completely. Almost as if she wanted to hide away forever and never be noticed by anyone.
As the reading progressed it became clear that Myra, a secretary, was as shy and introverted as her dress suggested. Myra had few friends and couldn’t recall the last time she shared her feelings with anyone.
And that was why she finally decided to see me – because something earth-shattering had happened in her quiet life and she desperately needed to talk to someone who could help:
Myra was in love, and she didn’t know what to do.
“His name is Henry. We attend the same gym for Pilates classes. I’ve known him for a year. We chat sometimes. I wonder if I have a chance with him.”
Myra drew the cards from the Tarot deck and handed them to me, as I laid out a relationship spread to discern what might come out of Myra and Henry’s friendship.
The cards didn’t look too promising. The Knight of Swords on Henry’s end told me he really only was interested in his career; as for Myra, the Seven of Cups gently suggested that she manage her expectations more realistically.
Myra’s face fell when I told her the news.
“I’m not surprised,” Myra mumbled as her eyes scanned the cards on the table. “All my life, I never said anything to the guys I liked. They treated me like a friend when I wanted to be more.” She sighed sadly. “No one wants the plain Jane.”
– Don’t say that, Myra. You’ve made friends with Henry, and friendship is a good starting point. Maybe you could suggest a quick coffee with him after Pilates, or an activity date together. What are you interested in?
Myra’s eyes lit up slightly. “I don’t really have any interest or special gift. But I’m pretty good at Pilates.” A hint of pride shimmered in her quiet voice.
Oops. The Tarot deck I’d been shuffling splintered in my hands, and two cards popped out. Eight of Pentacles – mastering a skill; Ace of Cups – potential for joy. Spirit was suggesting an idea. I smiled at Myra.
– Well then. You have a talent for Pilates. If that makes you happy, work on it. As for Henry, enjoy his friendship and let’s see where the Universe takes this.
“Yes. We’ll see.” Myra was smiling now, and we moved on to other topics for the rest of the reading.
* * *
Myra texted me a few days after the reading.
“I thought about what you said, and I’ve decided to take the Pilates instructor’s course. When I told Henry my plans, he was happy for me and said I would make a great coach. We went for coffee after class.”
Myra was choosing the path of learning, growth and self-love; she was bravely stepping out of her comfort zone. I replied the best way I knew:
– Awesome! <3 🙂
* * *
I didn’t hear from Myra for another six months. But when she called me one evening, the tremor in her voice told me something was wrong.
– How’s the Pilates course?
“I’m graduating in… four months. Yeah.”
– Nice. How’s it going with Henry?
“… He’s fine. I saw him just now at class.”
A long pause.
– Myra, are you okay?
Silence. A jagged sigh, and a stifled sob.
“He’s been posted to Dubai for five years. He’s leaving tomorrow.”
Then the sobs began in earnest. Myra was crying.
* * *
I didn’t hear from Myra again until about six months after that phone call. But when we met for a second reading, I was amazed at the difference.
Myra was no longer the diffident, self-doubting young lady I’d first met a year ago. Her eyes met mine and she smiled warmly, taking her seat across the table.
“I got my Pilates instructor’s certificate! It was hard work, but all worth it. I’ve never felt so proud of myself before.
“Thank you for encouraging me to develop my talent, Kelly. Before I met you, I never felt confident enough to do much with my life. But I’ve come so far, and now I’m a part-time Pilates coach. I love it.
“Last weekend, one of my students thanked me for helping to ease her chronic backache with Pilates. And it struck me: I just made a difference in someone’s life. I can actually do that. Now I want to be a blessing to others as much as I can, with whatever gifts I have.”
There was a quiet self-assurance about the new Myra. I knew that Myra’s life wasn’t perfect, and she was still looking for love, as we all do in different ways. But while looking for love, she had found her calling. Now all was well with her soul, and that was what truly mattered.
* * * * *
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The stories on this website (including the above recount) are based on Kelly’s personal and professional experiences as a lightworker. Some details have been changed to protect the identities of the individuals involved.