LexTalk

Have you ever felt the presence of a loved one who has passed on? A fleeting moment that makes you pause and wonder if they’re trying to reach out? Recently, I sought answers to this very feeling. Using The Lost Book of Nostradamus tarot deck, I asked the cards if my mom, who passed away in 2020, has been trying to reach out to me – and if so, how?

The cards I pulled were: The Hierophant (Reversed), 13 of Spheres (Revered), and 6 of Moons (Upright). Accompanying these cards was a hauntingly poetic couplet:

“Eyes closed, but open to ancient imagination. Monkish habits will count for nothing. Put in chains, at the end of a harsh cable, in the year when Mars, Venus, Sun appear in Summer. When two malignities of the scorpion conjoin, the Great Lord is murdered in his room.”

What followed was one of the most emotional and profound readings I’ve ever experienced. It felt like a message not just for me, but for anyone seeking connection, hope, and meaning.

The Cards Speak: A Journey of Connection

The first card, The Hierophant (Reversed), was a call to release expectations. Traditionally, the Hierophant represents structure, rules, and spiritual authority. Reversed, it suggested that my mom’s messages wouldn’t come in conventional ways. Instead of obvious signs or rituals, she might be reaching out through subtler, more personal methods – ones that require me to trust my intuition rather than looking for external validation.

The 13 of Spheres (Reversed) deepened this theme, pointing to a disconnect between my conscious search and the spiritual connection I seek. This card reminded me to stop looking outward for answers and turn inward instead. It whispered of celestial signs, moments of quiet reflections, and the importance of slowing down to truly feel her presence.

The came the 6 of Moons (Upright), a card of nostalgia, love, and cherished memories. This was my confirmation. My mom is still with me, not just in spirit but in the emotions and memories tied to her. It reminded me of lighthouses – something she loved and something I now see as a symbol of her. Like a lighthouse guiding ships safely home, her presence guides me, steady and constant, even when I feel lost.

The Mystery of the Couplet

The accompanying couplet from The Lost Book of Nostradamus added an air of mysticism to the reading. Its cryptic words felt like a riddle, but when paired with the cards, a deeper meaning emerged:

• “Eyes closed, but open to ancient imagination.” This line encouraged me to trust my intuition and embrace the unseen. My mom’s messages aren’t something I’ll “see” with my eyes but something I’ll feel in my heart and soul.
• “Monkish habits will count for nothing.” This was a reminder to let go of rigid practices or rituals. My mom isn’t bound by structured methods of communication; her presence is fluid, spontaneous, and deeply personal.
• “Put in chains, at the end of a harsh cable, in the year when Mars, Venus, Sun appear in Summer.” This line hinted at celestial events or astrological alignments. Perhaps her messages will become clearer during a significant cosmic moment, inviting me to look to the stars for connection.
• “When two malignities of the scorpion conjoin, the Great Lord is murdered in his room.” While cryptic, this felt symbolic of transformation. It suggested that I may need to let go of old ways of thinking or being to fully embrace her messages. It reminded me that endings often bring new beginnings, and transformation is a part of connection.

Finding Hope in the Unknown

This reading was more than an answer to my question; it was a journey of understanding. My mom’s presence isn’t confined to the physical world or obvious signs. It’s in the quiet moments of reflection, the memories ties to her favorite lighthouses, and the ways she continues to inspire me to trust my intuition.

For anyone wondering if a loved one is trying to reach out to you, my answer is this: they are. Their love transcends time and space, manifesting in ways that are as unique as the bond you shared. It might come through a memory, a feeling, or even a subtle nudge to look up at the stars.

The cards, the couplet, and my intuition all pointed to one undeniable truth: love never fades. It changes form, but it’s always there, guiding us like a lighthouse in the dark.

Have you ever felt the presence of a loved one who passed? I’d love to hear your storied in the comments. Let’s remind each other that connection is eternal, and love is the bridge that keeps us close, no matter the distance.

(If you enjoyed this post, don’t forget to subscribe to LexTalk for more reflections, stories, and inspiration.)