A voice made me leave my hubby so I could be a star

A voice urged me to leave the hus­band I loved

Chat It's Fate - - Contents - Ro­many Ro­many, 49, from Brighton

D an­c­ing around the fire, I whis­pered my heartfelt plea to the god of the flames.

‘Please, give me my own magic show. Show me how,’ I begged, over and over again.

I was at a mu­sic and per­form­ing arts fes­ti­val called Firedance in Cal­i­for­nia, USA. I’d trav­elled alone to Cal­i­for­nia, leav­ing my hus­band Martin at home in the UK. An artist and per­former, my real dream was to be a pro­fes­sional ma­gi­cian with my own show – but some­how, it al­ways seemed just be­yond my grasp. It was al­most as if I was be­ing blocked.

Mys­ti­cal rev­e­la­tion

Af­ter a night of wild revelry and danc­ing, next day, I de­cided to go for a hike in the for­est to clear my head. I put my train­ers on and marched briskly down the leafy trail. As the sun be­gan to set, I en­joyed a mo­ment of com­plete soli­tude. I was miles away from the near­est hu­man be­ing. The only sound was the crack­ing of twigs un­der my feet.

Then, out of nowhere, I heard a voice speak.

‘Leave Martin,’ the voice or­dered me. ‘Sell your house. Go to Las Ve­gas.’

Psy­chic all my life, I re­alised at once that the ‘voice’ wasn’t from some­one who was phys­i­cally present, there with me in the for­est.

Spirit pres­ence

The voice was from spirit. But why was it telling me to leave Martin, my hus­band of five years? I loved him dearly. I didn’t want to leave him.

I turned around and walked back to the fes­ti­val camp­site, deep in thought.

This voice, with­out sound but ab­so­lutely clear, had ac­tu­ally spo­ken to me twice be­fore - in a loo in Por­tu­gal and again in my flat in Shep­herd’s Bush. Both times it had told me to leave Martin, but I’d ig­nored it. I couldn’t bear to think how much Martin and I would both suf­fer if we parted.

This time, though, I knew it was an­swer­ing my prayer from last night. If I wanted to be a suc­cess­ful ma­gi­cian, I had to give up my mar­riage. The mes­sage from spirit was crys­tal clear. What was I go­ing to do….? Martin and I had mar­ried in Linz,

The voice told me to move to Las Ve­gas

Aus­tria at the street fes­ti­val where we met as fel­low per­form­ers. I was 27 at the time. He was a jug­gler and walked up to me with a flower. He was a gor­geous, tall Ger­man and on our first date, he turned to me in the moon­light and said, ‘I think I love you.’

We hadn’t wasted any time, de­cided to

get mar­ried right there and then. Ours was a huge wed­ding, cel­e­brated by ev­ery­one present at the fes­ti­val. A pa­gan priest­ess bound our wrists to­gether with silk and we jumped over a broom made of birch to mark the start of our lives to­gether. We were happy. We set up home in Brighton, per­formed to­gether with a jug­gling and knife-throw­ing act, and planned to start a fam­ily one day. There was a ter­ri­ble time when I thought I was go­ing to lose Martin as he de­vel­oped a tu­mour the size of a grape­fruit be­tween his heart, lungs and spine, but he had it suc­cess­fully re­moved. I felt enor­mously lucky to still have him. Now, hav­ing been through so much to­gether, spirit was telling me to leave him. I knew that, hav­ing asked me three times, the voice wouldn’t ask me again. This was my last chance. It was as if the Uni­verse was say­ing to me ‘You can have this, but you’ve got to show faith.’

If I stayed with Martin, I knew I wouldn’t go down the path that would lead to my dream of hav­ing a suc­cess­ful magic show.

De­ci­sion time

By the time I got back to my tent, I’d made up my mind. I sat on the floor and wept for my lost mar­riage, for the pain and con­fu­sion I’d cause when I broke all my prom­ises to Martin. I wept for the fun we’d miss, the chil­dren we’d never have, and for our grow­ing old to­gether.

I wrote Martin a letter telling him I was leav­ing and didn’t hand it to him un­til we were back home in Brighton. His face crum­pled when he read it, break­ing my heart. ‘But we’re go­ing to be to­gether for­ever,’ he said, burst­ing into tears. ‘I heard a voice,’ I be­gan – but stopped, re­al­is­ing it didn’t make sense. I wanted to com­fort him, to put my arms around him and say it was all a stupid mis­take and of course I wasn’t leav­ing – but I couldn’t. I’d made my de­ci­sion and my path was set. Come what may, I’d be leav­ing the UK for Las Ve­gas in four months’ time. It was the hard­est four months of my life. I loved Martin, and the longer I was at home, the more I felt that I couldn’t give a damn about any voice - but it was too late. Martin moved on, and started a new re­la­tion­ship with some­one else, and hav­ing made the de­ci­sion to sep­a­rate, I had no choice but to ac­cept it.

But I knew it was meant to be. The deal was struck, the price agreed – and the magic set in mo­tion.

Mov­ing away

So there I was, in my 30s with­out chil­dren, a part­ner, a home or any debts. All I wanted was that sure-fire act - and I didn’t care how long it took or what it cost.

Sit­ting on the plane to Ve­gas, leav­ing Eng­land be­hind me, I had the sense that I was chang­ing my life for­ever.

Once I got to Ve­gas, I planned to study with Jeff Mcbride, an ac­quain­tance of mine and a megas­tar in the world of magic. I hadn’t ac­tu­ally or­gan­ised any­thing be­fore­hand, so I went to see him as soon as I ar­rived in Las Ve­gas.

‘I’m sorry, Ro­many, but I’m about to leave for a tour of Ja­pan,’ he told me.

My heart sank. Oh my God! I’d left Martin and now my dream was col­laps­ing al­ready. Had I just made the worst mis­take of my life…?

The price was paid and the magic be­gan

But Jeff had an­other ques­tion for me. ‘Ro­many, do you ou want to put on your own show for one night in my the­atre when I get back?’ he asked. ‘Yes!’ I blurted ex­cit­edly. ‘What have I done?’ I moaned to my pale face in the mir­ror when I got back to my ho­tel room. You see – I didn’t ac­tu­ally have an act! I’d per­formed a few bits and pieces in front of friends, and that was it.

Yet I’d just agreed to put on a pro­fes­sional magic show in front of a de­mand­ing Ve­gas au­di­ence in just a few short weeks!

I spent ev­ery wak­ing mo­ment un­til Jeff got back in my ho­tel room, prac­tic­ing magic tricks in front of the mir­ror.

Jeff was a huge Las Ve­gas star. I was shak­ing as he in­tro­duced me to the au­di­ence.

‘Ladies and gen­tle­men, I give you….ro­many Ro­many!’

And I was up! I did my best, but I was way be­yond my com­fort zone. I for­got an en­tire 10-minute chunk of the mid­dle of my act and a con­fetti ex­plo­sion failed to go off.

Af­ter­wards, Jeff bounded back­stage. I braced my­self for a tick­ing-off – but he was beam­ing.

‘Wow! That was great! Did you hear them all laugh­ing?’ he said ex­cit­edly. ‘You’re a hit, Ro­many!’

Smil­ing faces

I could hardly be­lieve what he was say­ing – but as I walked into the foyer, I was met by a crowd of happy, beam­ing faces. ‘They’re smil­ing, they’re con­tent, that’s all I need to do,’ I re­alised. I de­cided then and there to ap­ply for a visa, so I could stay in Ve­gas. It was the start of some­thing, well, mag­i­cal. I be­came the only woman to win The Magic Cir­cle Ma­gi­cian of the Year and the Las Ve­gas Golden Lion award. I’ve per­formed all over the world and have even en­ter­tained His High­ness Prince Charles! That’s how magic works, you see. You set your in­ten­tion, you let it go, and then the in­fi­nite wis­dom of the Uni­verse sets the cogs in mo­tion. The Uni­verse had granted my re­quest for a suc­cess­ful act. But now I had an­other ask. I wanted a life part­ner.

Mak­ing it hap­pen

Once again, I set my in­ten­tion. I cleared out half my wardrobe, slept only on one side of the bed and bought a large teddy bear into whose fluffy ear I whis­pered, ‘I love you,’ each night.

It took a whole year be­fore my now-hus­band Johnny showed up. He was a Bud­dhist and a for­mer monk.

He liked me, but had no idea he was in it for the long haul. I gave him time. As I rode my bike, I whis­pered to the wind, ‘he loves me,’ man­u­fac­tur­ing the feel­ing that he did. Af­ter a year, he moved in and was sur­prised to find so much room in my wardrobe for his clothes!

I have no re­grets what­so­ever about leav­ing Martin. It freed him to live his life. He now has three chil­dren and seems very happy. We’re still friends and al­though he lives in Ger­many, he oc­ca­sion­ally comes to stay. The voice that told me to leave Martin still speaks to me. Not of­ten, but when it does, I lis­ten. I al­ways trust what it says and take the leap it re­quires. Magic has its own tim­ing, its own quirky way of things work­ing out in per­fect time and space. Find your joy, pay close at­ten­tion to the cos­mic signs and re­mem­ber, be care­ful what you tell the an­gels, be­cause I swear they’re al­ways lis­ten­ing!

I asked the Uni­verse for a life part­ner

Ma­gi­cian: Life’s am­bi­tion

Jug­gler: My man

Street fes­ti­val: Love match

Per­form­ers: Martin and me

My mag­i­cal life!

Johnny: Happy to­gether

Royal au­di­ence: Prince Charles

Spun Into Gold – A Story Of Show­biz Dreams, Ad­dic­tion & Find­ing Real Magic by Ro­many Ro­many is avail­able at Ama­zon.co.uk, priced £9.99

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