Page 66 of Sort of Seeing Someone

“Not to tell Liv?” I guess.

She nods her head.

Nora procures three large scented candles, all iterations of seasonal scents: Pumpkin Spice, Apple Cider, and Pecan Pie. Next to them, she sets a lighter along with three sheets of computer paper and a fancy black pen. I begin to read the intro paragraph to the ritual.

“This is a Cord Cutting Ritual to help break free of the etheric cords that tie us down from the ability to conceive. The ceremony also removes old, stagnant, useless cords that drain the energy and disrupt the aura needed to conceive.”

“Wow, that’s exactly what Liv needs,” Nora comments. “A compete aura overhaul.”

She should talk.

“Step One: Create a sacred space. In a quiet area, light three candles and place them in front of you in a line from left to right,” I read aloud.

I don’t know howsacredthe coach house is, but I get up to draw the blinds as Nora light the candles. It feels dim and cozy for it being the middle of a sunny day. We take a seat across from each other with the candles between us.

“Step Two: Take five deep breaths with your eyes closed as you hold your crystal to your belly.”

“That’s all you, Moonie,” says Nora. She’s officially reached her threshold as an active participant. “Really focus on grounding yourself,” Nora whispers from the sidelines.

After five breaths, I read Step Three to myself:Set your crystal down and pick up a pen and the first piece of paper.

“What’s it say to do next?” Nora asks.

“We have to write a few sentences about her past and what she’s ready to let go of. Then we fold the paper and put it in front of the first candle,” I explain.

Step three is innately harder because we are approaching this exercise as ifweare Liv. I take a moment to think about what she’d say is holding her back.

“Societal expectations,” Nora suggests. “Or maybe too much sugar and butter?”

I go with societal expectations.

“Step Four says to grab the second piece of paper and write a few sentences about where she is in her present. This can include both positive items as well as struggles,” I read. “Then we fold that one and place it in front of the middle candle.”

Again, we try to channel Liv. Nora suggests the frustration that’s tied to the clinical aspects of trying to get pregnant. We both agree on adding resentment toward Ted about his conveniently long hours and distracting job as a busy veterinarian in a big city that’s constantly plagued by cases of dog flu.

“Step Five is to grab the last piece of paper and write down the manifestations for the future. We’ll put that one in front of the candle on the right,” I explain.

This one is easy. We keep it short, sweet, and to the point. I write the word BABY in all capital letters and underline it with a heavy hand. Done.

Step Six has me picking up the crystal again and taking another five deep belly breaths.

“Now what?” asks an anxious Nora.

“We set shit on fire,” I say, pointing to Step Seven in the book. Nora reads the page from a safe distance.

“Pick up the piece of paper representing the past and hold it to the flame of the candle on the left. Let the paper burn as you repeat the following: ‘I declare to cut and remove all cords and karmic ties, across all planes of time, across all dimensions and past lives that do not serve my [sister’s] ability to conceive in this lifetime.’”

A beat of hesitation pulses through me, and a bit through Nora as well, as we wonder if burning paper will set off any alarms. The last thing Nora needs right now is for Esteban, who is working from home today, to be distracted by a chirping smoke detector because his wife and her little sister are having a séance of sorts in the coach house.

“Maybe we should skip this part,” I say.

“We can’t,” says a determined Nora. “We have to stick to the steps.”

I put the paper to the flame and whisper the words from the page.

Step Eight has me picking up the piece of paper representing the present and holding it to the flame of the candle in the middle. I let the paper burn as I repeat the following:

“I declare any soul imprints that are not beneficial for my [sister’s] fertility become dissolved immediately into a space of love.”

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