The Witch Told Me…

I drank the last mouthful of coffee and then handed over my cup. She turned it over into a saucer and let it stand for a moment.

Everyone leaned as she lift the cup and examined the design that the coffee left on the saucer.coffee grounds

She didn’t speak English so one of the girls translated. She told me it was a gift. A gift she had received from her grandmother. She had the gift of seeing. A witch I guess, a good one.

She looked at me with old, kind eyes. She was a young woman but her eyes were older than any I had ever seen before and so beautiful.

She said something to the women translating, she replied and they exchanged several words with no translation. I asked what she was saying. The translator told me she wasn’t sure if she should tell me what she sees. I might be upset.

I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t need to consider, I just said, tell me. It’s okay, tell me whatever you see.

And then she began.

She said she saw deep sadness. It had happened many years ago and it was the center of my life at that time. She said I was still deeply moved by this loss.

I knew immediately what it meant. I understood the reference. How could I forget.

And then she went on to mention a pregnancy in my family and an  unexpected illness. Then she spoke about my voice, that it is strong and is getting stronger.

And she saw a good future with light and joy, success in business and love.

It all made sense. I lost my father all those years ago and it created a deep sadness that I have always carried with me. And all the other things she said came true.

And yet, though I believe she really had a gift, she really could see; I don’t rely on Fortune Tellers.

I rely on Storytellers.

Because I see again and again that the story we chose to tell becomes our reality. That the story we believe, is our truth. That story defines our happiness and our success.

And as we journey through this life we gather experiences and we tell them as stories. And when we forget that we are the creator of our story, we can blame others for our conflicts and unhappiness.

And when we remember that every story has another way to tell it and that every experience is an opportunity for learning and growth, we can tell empowered stories that define a good life, a fulfilled life.

No not necessarily a rosy colored happy ending, but a life of meaning. Because an empowered story of our own creation defines a good life.

No need for fortune tellers. Just good stories.

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3 comments on “The Witch Told Me…

  1. You did not specify the link between the story the fortuneteller told which rang true for you, & came to pass), & how you authored or created that story & thus that future. You imply It’s there. Gap. Frustrating.

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