A Mysterious World of Magic
I stepped back onto the narrow stoop of the NYC apartment building Tamra lived in with her husband and young daughter. I watched as she ducked her head to get into the black limo with government license plates. The wind swept through her unmanageable, long black curly hair and she glanced at me before climbing into the vehicle. Her eyes were wild and I wondered if she knew what was coming. Why wouldn’t she? She was the best Chazah, seer, psychic, I had ever met in my life. Her knowledge and reputation were widespread. I was honored, grateful and blessed to have her as my teacher and mentor.
It was the ‘80’s. Ronald Reagan was the 40th President and heavily into Astrology. He held his inauguration twice. First came the official one followed by a second on an astrologically auspicious day.
She had packed her small white travel bag which contained Turkish coffee, the copper Turkish coffee pot and her overused silver ladle for melting frankincense tears. Tamra didn’t need to say where she was going or whom she was reading for. It was implied. It’s not every year a black limo comes to whisk you away to Washington DC. for the day. This happened monthly for a few years.
Tamra was a French Moroccan, Israeli, Chazah or Seer. She taught me to read coffee grinds, create magic rituals and perform spells that would assist clients in getting what they wanted in their lives. I learned to reunite lovers, remove lovers, break up relationships, get instant cash, spells for pregnancy, spells for unwanted pregnancies, spells for luck, white light, black magic, you name it, there was a spell and a ritual for it and Tamra taught me much of what she knew, while keeping special secrets and potions for herself, until she believed I was ready for them. She taught me to be careful and cautious of what I knew and the importance of not teaching these to the uninitiated. She warned of the dangers in this work and the great responsibility that comes with it. Perhaps it’s the main reason I have avoided prescribing potions and spells.
“You need white roses in your home every Friday in honor of Our Lady of Guadeloupe.”
“I’m not Catholic!” I replied.
“Neither am I!” She laughed. ” We just obey God’s calling,” she said in her thick accent.
My mentor insisted I purchase a bouquet of fresh white roses each Friday to purify my home, my energy and my life as I continued the work she taught.
It’s been thirty years since Tamra and I last spoke. One day her phone was disconnected. I drove to her home. She no longer lived there. No one knew where she had gone.
