Deep-dive into the different building block of faith

“Morning!” I smile at Bakerman as he hands me my daily bread. It’s a beautiful spring morning and I open my front door wider ushering him inside for a nice brew of tea. “I can’t ever blog about any of this stuff. It’s sordid and not what I want in my life. Why do you think my mom sees kids as possessions? I see her more as a spider in a web, controlling who is where and doing what. Do you think I see my kids as possessions? I should hope not.”

I go about my kitchen fixing two big cups of tea and adding some of my favourite biscuits on the saucer. “My mom told me I am evil. Again. She always labels me. It doesn’t bother me like it used to. She tells me I am evil, and cold, and a bad enemy to have.”

Still dwelling on the events passed now days ago: “Hmmm. She refused the four of cups card. No, she said, she is not greedy, nor jealous, nor discontent. Oh well, it doesn’t really matter. I want to stay well away from that cesspool.”

I sit down next to Bakerman at the kitchen table smiling all big eyes at him. “How’s baking? I’ve been dreaming of your chocolate cake since yesterday. I think you should bake more chocolate cake.”

“Yes keep away from toxic people,” Bakerman nods as he sips his tea.

“I will,” I say determined. “There was a reason I left in the first place. So chocolate cake, coffee and tea.”

“I did bake another chocolate cake,” Bakerman tells me shyly. “It was eaten up by Debbie’s friends.”

“I’m going to have to buy some cake, today or tomorrow. But soon,” my mouth is tasting the rich creamy chocolate just thinking of that delight. “Oooh see. It would work.”

“Plus if you use tarot to manipulate you need to cloud it in smoke and mirrored,” Bakerman sips his tea maintaining eye contact all the time.

“I don’t use it to manipulate,” I answer defensively. I’m sure I don’t. “I just read the cards before me.”

“Think of it as a tool for coaching,” Bakerman ignores my protest. “Remember everyone is looking for the good in their future only. You must find a way to give it to them by clouding the bad. Don’t remove it just cloak it. When talking about bad offer something good if they change something. Then they avoid the bad.”

“Stop being stingy, spend your money, be generous in love,” I try out a few spins on the cards I had laid down for my mother. “I told her all that. I told her abundance is living carefree. Thinking of your bank account all the time is poverty. Aah I can’t see how I can spin that in her reading. If you stop being so controlling and manipulative, you will meet a sensitive man. If you stop being greedy and stingy, you will get people to pull together and help you.”

“Ah,” Bakerman sighs as he shakes his head and puts his tea cup down. “You are challenging her core fundamentals with that.”

“I know… hoard everything, it is mine mine mine. Not sharing. No no,” I use that voice that’s just terribly annoying. “And also she decides who talks to who and which information is being passed on.”

“No all of that is your opinion,” Bakerman sets me straight again. “That’s your filters working because you know her and hate her or something like that.”

“So no it won’t go,” I sit there shaking my head vehemently. “I do. I’m sorry. Not hate, that’s too strong. I strongly dislike her. I strongly disapprove of her methods, her values and her way of living.”

“Put yourself in her shoes,” Bakerman coaxes me. “Where is she coming from and what does she want? Know that and then do a reading.”

“Her whole being goes against anything I stand for,” I continue refusing to hear reason.

“Really?” Bakerman glowers at me. “I wonder that sometimes.”

“She wants a man, to live with her and to manipulate, to pay the bills and to fix her house and garden,” I tell him disapprovingly.

“So do you,” Bakerman throws back at me. “What’s your point?”

“She wants a man so she can take him to the UK to see her brother and sister. She wants to get married just like they are,” I am desperately trying to show the shallowness. “No I don’t. I pay my own bills. Well okay, Wim pays half the house, and the water, and some of the food…”

“You don’t?” Bakerman’s face is showing growing disbelief, and definitely a tinge of amusement. “Then why do you hang onto Wim?”

“I love Wim. I like spending time with him. Love talking to him. He’s nice. Great actually,” I tell him fondly thinking of my man. “I told her that men find it boring to go and see her brother and sister and just sit around talking. They don’t want to see her childhood house or where she went to school. She confirmed indeed that her boyfriends hadn’t been that into her family and she couldn’t understand.”

“I see reality has caught up at last,” Bakerman won’t let me off so easily. “I have a good memory of your past conversations. I even met Mr threesome. No until this moment you have the same or similar values taught you by your mother. So sorry. Face your truths. Don’t change them like your mother does just to suit your ego please. When you face your truths you can then change them and improve by breaking the chains put on you by your mother.”

“Okay… this is hard. So I am stingy?” I am angry now and my eyes are wide and my chin is sticking out.

“Yes it is but worth the effort,” Bakerman won’t be put off by my show.

“I think of my kids as possessions? I want Wim for his money? I am promiscuous?” I continue in the same strong tense.

“I don’t know what you think about your kids,” Bakerman replies too cool for school.

“I think I am the only one capable of looking after them,” I confess. “I’m scared I fail them as a mother.”

“Well promiscuous is a no brainer, now is it?” Bakerman puts his finger there where it hurts the most.

“I try to teach them values and wonder if I’m too hard,” I try to ignore his accusation, but then face him head on. “I’m better than I used to be. And nothing happened with Paul. Just a mind fuck, remember. I am good and I am loyal. I am.”

“You would be better off thinking about how you bring up you kids your way or if doing it the way people suggest in magazines and other politically correct methods that don’t work,” Bakerman brings up his favourite subject again. I still haven’t forgotten about my argument with Dorothy in the supermarket. “Your choice. I know you are better then you used to be and I hope you keep to it.”

“I don’t have time for magazines,” I snort. “So yes it is my way. I will keep it. I like little house on the prairie.”

“Ok then you have nothing to fear,” Bakerman states. “You are a great mom.”

“I am, I hope,” I smile broadly at this compliment. “My kids are happy.”

“Your kids are not shy or timid,” Bakerman confirms. “They seem balanced.”

“That’s always a good indicator,” I say approvingly glowing with visible pride. “They are. They are developing nicely into teenagers. They have conversation. They laugh and cuddle and talk to me about their stuff.”

“Ok so stop doubting your ability,” Bakerman nudges me gently. “Fix Fiona. The rest will follow. Find faith in something.”

“Faith in what?” I ask bewildered. “I can make happy kids. I can attract new clients. I do love Wim.”

“Now have empathy for your mother,” Bakerman insists. “She wants her youth back. She still thinks her fanny had great value. It’s hard to realize it’s just old, more wrinkled and smellier than before.”

“Ugh yuk!” I exclaim in disgust. That’s the last thing I want to be thinking about.

“Faith in yourself, a higher power,” Bakerman continues. “The universe.”

“Yes I have that,” I feel happy and on track for once. “And I think I’m healing slowly. She doesn’t get to me like she used to. Why do you think she hates me? Is it because of Graham?”

“This dislike you have with your mother is out there in the universe,” Bakerman mystifies. “It’s in your Aura. It is attracting more toxic energy. She dislikes you because of you behaviour patterns over the years you have been alive.”

“Yes makes sense,” I acknowledge.

“Well some habits you keep and the ones that bring a negative result you change or find a better way to deal with them,” Bakerman instructs as if it’s that easy to find the bad habits and then decide just like that how to improve on those weak spots.

“Which ones bring me negative stuff?” I want to know. I mean, I really don’t know. He makes it sound so easy, so obvious.

“I don’t know,” Bakerman throws the theoretical ball back at me. “Start with how you deal with your mother. Or Wim’s kids.”

“Wim’s kids is starting to go well,” I think out loud. “So how can I deal with my mother if the relationship is toxic? I could be evil right now and publish this on my blog. Or I could just swallow it, avoid stirring angry blood, and just continue smiling. The last option seems best.”

“Yes indeed it is,” Bakerman heeds me warning. “You deal with your mother on a very superficial basis. Nothing more.”

Imagination may be your magic carpet into a brief moment of escapism. So is my writing of pure fiction. Imagine for a moment that you lost everything you have right now, and then how happy you would feel if you got it back again. Just like Alice when she received her own thimble as a trophee, we learn to value again that which was already ours. Cogitate on that for a while. Then forget about it. And remember, we’re living in the richest countries in the world and are more fortunate than billions of people on this planet. Yet we still want more, and more, and more. Imagine that.

* Disclaimer : Any resemblance between the fictional characters in this story and any persons, living or dead, is a miracle by chance more than by choice.


Lighten up

Bakerman didn’t show for my morning delivery of freshly baked buns, so I decide to call him on the phone to check whether everything is okay.

“Howdi,” I start out, and already the excitement of hearing him made me totally forget my reason for calling him. “Did my mom’s tarot yesterday. She pulled the death card twice. Does this mean I am going to die?”

I pull a horrified face which I am sure he can’t see at the other end of the line. “Went to see the solicitor yesterday. To see for marriage contract with Wim. Brrr… very scary. And also to sort out custody for Willem should anything happen to me. If I die, Willem goes to his godparents, Wim and Buidi.”

My chatter is ongoing on I’m half wondering if Bakerman is amused or trying to get a word in somewhere. “Also writing up an offer for a new client. I really want this one. It would mean 1.400 Euro monthly recurring. What can I do to make sure I get this client? Any magic or woohoo I can do?”

I pause for a moment for the magic to set in. Then I finally request a response from him: “What kind of lessons do you teach Mary?”

“Hi,” Bakerman breathes amused down the phone. “The death card means change. Not a physical death. Are you doing a prenuptial agreement? Let’s hope nothing untoward happens to you as your family will break up and the kids will lose touch.”

“Yes split contract, prenuptial,” I emphasize the cleanliness of the deal. “It’s scary though. I want to get married but last time I didnt like being married.  If I die and if Willem goes to Wim or Buidi, they will maintain contact with the kids.”

“I see,” Bakerman is making sense of the ongoings. “Are you going to live together?”

“No,” I laugh out loud at the crazy suggestion. “Later when the kids are at uni.”

“Then what’s the point?” Bakerman asks me a little annoyed.

“The feeling, the intention, the love,” I spell it out for him. “The commitment.”

“Really?” Bakerman sounds unconvinced. “Oh well that’s great. Sounds wonderful.”

“It’s good and slow enough for me,” I beam at him determined not to get unbalanced in my personal conviction.

“When will this happen?” Bakerman continues prodding the reality of my plans.

“After Wim’s chemo therapy,” I announce a little too sure of myself. “I guess September. We’ll get the contract sorted now and then set a date when health permits.”

“Very cool,” Bakerman is humouring me, I can tell. “This way you get to keep your cake after you have eaten it.”

“We’re doing things backwards: buy a house, have a baby, get married… live together,” I know just by saying this that I am the rule, not the exception, but I chose to ignore the uneasy feeling creeping up on me. “ Yessss! How do I make sure to get this client?”

“Fantastic,” Bakerman susses me for now.

“Come on, a magic phrase or whatever?” I plead him to give me a feather of confidence to hold onto.

“Which client?” Bakerman questions me.

“The tourism agency one,” I go on very excited. “They want social media, Adwords and analytics.”

“What do they want?” Bakerman pretends he didn’t hear me first time. “Oh.”

“I am quoting 2.800 set-up fee and 1.400 monthly recurrent,” I go on divulging the details of the calculations I made based on the prospects business requirements.

“Can you use Mechelen as a reference?” Bakerman has got his business thinking cap on. “You will guarantee the results are true.”

“Yes I could,” I realize this is the ultimate referral which should convince my prospect of experience and quality of work. “Okay. The results are true?”

“Use Mechelen,” Bakerman emphasizes.

“Excellent idea,” I congratulate him for being such a fantastic consultant.

“Yes after you have done social media, AdWords and analytics the dashboard will reflect unbiased and true results,” Bakerman points out my own unique selling propositions. “You don’t spin the result like others do.”

“Oooh okay,” I breathe excitedly. “Is my price ok?”

“Things will start to pick up now,” Bakerman predicts ahead. “February is always a bad month. Although it’s a very good month for holidays.”

“Super,” I am happy at this thought of business picking up and income increasing. “Things will be good by the time the Star returns. Mid November she’s back.”

“I can’t say if your price is good or not as I don’t know the market value,” Bakerman points out. “Better a bit high than a bit low.”

“Okay, will review before sending,” I decide content with the outcome of this conversation.

“Good girl,” Bakerman teases me.

“How are you?” I finally recall my reason for calling him. His absence this morning to deliver my daily bread.

“I am sick with flu,” Bakerman informs me matter of factly.

“Oooh poor you,” my cheeks burn slightly red that I had not inquired before.

“Had hoped to get going now but set back another week,” Bakerman informs me I’ll be without my daily bread for a few more days. Bummer, you start enjoying little routines and it feels awful when these fall away abruptly.

“Are you being spoilt?” I want to know.

“No,” Bakerman replies short.

“No oranges and honey?” I ask incredulously. “Why not?”

“I like to be left alone to sleep,” Bakerman gives a totally plausible yet surprising answer.

“Where’s Debbie?” I ask checking if all other factors remain constant.

“She is around,” Bakerman answers my real question.

“So I’m bothering you?” my cheeks are still a high colour of pink and I’m happy he can’t see that.

“No,” Bakerman smiles. “I don’t agree that as a man I am useless when sick. I think we suffer equally as much. But life goes on. Having my tummy rubbed is fun but at the right time and for the right reason. But for flu I just need tea, vitamin C, food and sleep.”

“Agree,” I sigh relieved. “Men do make a fuss. Or life just ends there and then.”

“Yes they do become babies,” Bakerman chuckles.

“Got to go,” I jump up looking at the time horrified. “I have a conf call.”

I head back off to my desk and computer my head spinning with new ideas. I have a few new ideas how to approach this prospect with promises on how to manage and analyze their social media marketing in one dashboard, how to use analytics tools to improve their advertising performance. And I am also feeling optimistic and confident with the marketing support I am getting from my friend Bakerman. Right now I feel like yes, I can succeed!

* Disclaimer : Any resemblance between the fictional characters in this story and any persons, living or dead, is a miracle by chance more than by choice.

Get card gifted

The tarot cards… such an intriguing topic, full of mystery and fear of the unknown. I have been playing with the tarot cards for years now with friends of mine. When I use the word “playing” I in no way wish to incur that I have no respect for the cards. On the contrary. I believe the tarot should always be approached with the upmost respect. In the first place because you are dealing with people’s emotions, their hopes and dreams. This is not something you would want to toy with light heartedly.

However, I do like to keep a ludicrous aspect in the cards. After all, it’s just a party trick, right ? It would not be good for anybody’s sanity to take the cards too serious. Nor would I want to convey an all too heavy weight. Nothing is written in stone. People change. Situations evolve. The tarot deck, as my lawyer explained it, is just a means to guide along an intimate conversation. It provides building blocks which will allow an intuitive and insightful discussion to unfold between 2 people who are seeking hidden answers to matters close to one’s heart.

Pure ritual

I love laying out the tarot, for my friends but also for customers who find my intuitive tarot website about spirituality in a fast-paced world. I like to take my time to get to know each stranger who reaches out to me. Together we can tap into our mutual intuition and use the collective unconscious to find the best solutions to any given situation. I always seize the opportunity to interweave my own personal coaching advise to help these souls back on track.

I have been practicing the tarot for some time, but only recently decided to open up my practice to the wider world. Being a digital consultant, I managed to launch my website in less than an hour and enjoy giving readings to numerous people who call me. My name figures prominently on my website. It is something I am in fact proud to be doing.

My boyfriend encouraged me to explore this avenue much deeper, as he noticed how much joy I put into reading for my clients and how much I get for it in return : the happiness to have guided someone yet again along the path of happiness and personal freedom. Yet when I revealed my business to some other friends, I was unpleasantly surprised to find out that they did not share my enthusiasm.


Anyone can read the tarot

In my opinion, we are all gifted in some way. This is what the Buddhists call Dharma. It is up to each and everyone of us to find out what we are good at and what we really love to do in life. We find happiness along our way when we go out to share with the world those talents which make us unique. Which is why I believe anybody can read the tarot. You just need to tap into your own intuition and have a beautiful channel from which you are reading.

So great was my disappointment when my friends disagreed with me doing the tarot. And for which reasons ? They believed I had not had the right initiations. That I was not gifted enough. That the tarot is something to be feared and only to be approached with the greatest apprehension and respect. That this is an idea which should be theirs by right to explore and not mine. In short, the message felt very negative and very condescending.

I decided I had to stop my tarot reading temporarily. At least until I felt confident enough again to spread my words of inner healing to a wider public. I just love to coach people back to happiness.

This is my wider message to any woman out there. Irrespective whether you believe in the tarot of not. Don’t let anyone else determine your value. Don’t let anyone tell you what you can or can’t do. The world is your oyster. You need nobody’s permission to be great.

Go do what you love to do and be happy.

— The universe (here and now)