I stood before the fireplace, staring at the sword propped against the hearth-a fine decorative piece of cutlery replicating the “Braveheart” movie sword. It was sharp and ready for use when I purchased it at the last gunshow I’d attended from a gentleman who didn’t want me advertising for him, for state law compliance and liability reasons, he told me. I went to the back bedrooms, started into one I used to sleep in, and started to back out without the light on. A feeling in my middle seemed to gently arrest me and I sat down on the floor in the dark room just staring out into nothing-I wanted to cry to relieve myself of this inner pressure building, but could not make anything come out.
I must’ve sat there 20 or more minutes, just staring out into the dark-my thoughts running into one another as they marched across my mind. I still felt strange about what she had said. I got up and dragged myself into the bedroom, got dressed for bed, and lay down, hoping to escape this new not so digestible information by inducing sleep. But, as I lay in bed and thought more about it, I decided that the information that Dorothy had given me was based upon the information that I had given her. But then again, how could I indict her for having pulled that information out of me? Did she not do what she was good at? She never said that she wasn’t going to do it. It always comes back on me, doesn’t it, that information that is stored in me? I wished at that point that I had either a good book or a teddy bear to curl up with, and forget this crap. I couldn’t close my eyes, so I said, “Guess I better do something.”
Then I then sat up in bed in the dark, and began to “think towards this person”, whether “he” might be there or not-no longer mattered-I just thought of “him” with as much strength as I could. Because if in fact something significant was revealed about this instance that she could dig out of me for me to see, that I spoke to her of-and if in fact it might be possible that there was some sort of connectedness concerning different energy patterns, here-then why did I need her or anyone else, for that matter, as a “mediator for hire”? Why couldn’t I do it myself? If in fact, this “person” was with me somehow, in any degree, outside the very real fact that there is information stored in my memory of such a connection that my lack of knowledge hinders me in better defining, what is there to stop me from any sort of communication through intent to clear with him(?) whatever seems to be ailing me? Have I not been doing it all along?
I decided that if I had anything at all to really do with this person, then I would have to assume that he was no less “a person”, therefore no less intelligent, and capable of understanding simple language, than before departing. If anything, I would deal with this logically and intelligently, if there were to be anything useful come of it. Clouding this sort of thing over with ridiculous stigmatism was of no use to anyone who had a brain, and who sought understanding. I said out loud, as if talking to a really there” person, “Okay apparently you were there and know the details. How do you want to help me? I believe I know what I have done while I have been here for 42 years, but beyond that, how could I have done anything to anyone without being conscious of it-? Help me then, if that is what you are here for.”
I reclined slowly back down on the bed down and waited with patience and an open mind. I was almost asleep, eyes half open, looking up not expecting anything but maintaining vigilance to whatever came next. I saw, once again, something that I had long forgotten about. In my mind-I suppose that’s where it was when I first saw it-maybe, maybe not-the ‘half circle’' of light as it looked years earlier as I looked up into in the night sky-except this time here in bed, there were no stars to see. Then, the bottom half of the circle appeared with the other half and it was one complete perfect light circle, but not as bright on the lower half-almost a “ghost shadow” like that of a vivid rainbow, of the first image-before it went out. Why should I see it like that now, though? “Whole” but “not whole” at the same time? What did it mean?
I was in my early thirties, living in Level Plains near Daleville, AL. I found myself having to go back home to live for a short while. I was lying on the hood of my car in the back yard, looking up into space and thinking thoughts like I did when I was younger to that “silent invisible” that seemed to understand without arguing back. As I looked up and not moving, but waiting, a “light” showing a half circle could be seen in absoluteness but I was unsure of the endurance of its’ appearance-I’d like to say a second, but in that “second”-total comprehensibility in my mind. It looked like this in the sky, but an absolute perfect half shape-and brilliant like someone had drawn it with me watching with light instead of ink; then it disappeared as fast as it appeared. It was not “white” like below or like a light bulb-it was the clearest looking light I had ever seen and have never seen since. Was this something that I had actually viewed? Or now that I thought of it, was this something that came from within me?
I caught my breath-as I tried to hold the memory of the quick flash of image with me. It looked incredible in just the fact that I could see it. It changed my whole attitude from negative to positive in that instant. I was very elevated and joyful, and I will always believe that whatever it was that happened, it was meant for me to see at that given instance. I lay on the hood of my car for I don't know how long-smiling all over. The night air gradually went from a warm blanket that surrounded me, with faint woods-n-flower smells caught in its whirlwind activity, in concert with happy chirping crickets, to a still silent chill. I don’t know how long I lay there, thinking, before I realized that the lights were all out in the house. “All the better”, I thought. I didn’t feel like talking to anyone about it. I wasn’t about to tell anyone what I had just seen. I didn’t want to spoil the effect it was having on me. I would definitely have been told that I “had imagined it”. Some things it is wise to just keep to yourself. So, I lived like that for the rest of the night until I went to bed, still glowing.
I considered again what she said about “time travel.” When I was in my late teens working the graveyard shift at a nursing home and found it utterly difficult to sleep during the day, I used to lie on my bed in my room, looking out into the deep burning blue sky. It was on those sparkling clear winter days that I tried to imagine the endless, boundless, all that I knew creation had to be-where was such the boundary? Even in my then uneducated mind, there was no “definition” for it. I had thought so deeply about it that I reached a point wherein I had scared myself because I realized at some point therein what I was in comparison to the All without end or beginning. So I used to think: “Where does time fit into no end and no beginning”? Now I am forced to think, “Where can I go from here in order to get ‘there’ again to straighten out whatever it is that I am responsible for-that which I am still unclear on?
Sunday, 08 April 2001: 1 watched the dawn approach and thought how tired I was and could not go through the day without rest. I got up, feeling like I had been sleep deprived too much now, and although I really didn’t have to be anywhere, I sure would have liked for my brain to “take a rest”. I got coffee and sat down, thinking about the night before. I had decided that I would not stay in the house all day like I did yesterday. I felt like I absolutely must get out of the house. I rode around town, with no real intention, no place to be at any time. Suddenly I felt hungry and I thought it would be nice to stop in and have one of those yummy sandwiches I am addicted to because they are also healthy!
Around noon, I pulled up to the Atlanta Bread Company, ordered my sandwich with iced tea and started to drive off. Then I saw a parking lot with no one in it and decided that this was as good a place as any to enjoy eating it. As I sat in the parking lot I got what I guess I will have to accept as a reasonable answer to the question I had asked earlier in the day. I took a bite of it and as I was chewing, thoughts began streaming forth. I put my sandwich down and scrambled in the car for something to write with and write on. I started writing frantically to keep up with what was coming out:
“You want things to be logical. One of the first things you learned through the study of electro, that in order to identify and repair where there is a problem the first thing you must do is to trace back to the last known source of power. You are familiar with the techniques of healing. Having been exposed much to that field as well, you understand that in order to get at the root of illness, it is necessary to examine the origins of the problem. In either case, to affect a cure you must be on it’s level of understanding of the origins of disease-both problems originate in what is referred to as machines-the animated temple called the body and the inanimate architecture of iron ore. By now, you should be aware of a matter of imbalance-you feel this more when you refuse to deal with it. A misunderstanding has been pushed aside for too long now, and forgotten. To your mind, perhaps, it never happened. So, think, now: why else would you be faced with this if you did nothing? The answer is clear-you only have to open your mind to see it.”
The answer was straightforward and made perfect sense. This got me to thinking seriously. If I deal with what ever I am supposed to “fix” it-then what? Will things change from as I know them to be-that which we look at and say-hey-I know this place and recognize it as I have seen it, or I know about that-this serves to validate what I know about myself? But then again, aren’t scientists, yesterday and today, always reminding us through discoveries that the physical universe, as we know it, is always in a “constant state of change” anyway? Point taken, how will I know where I am to go back to in order to fix something with someone? Knowing this, does it really make any difference if we attempt to change something to produce a state of harmony where it is lacking-or just try and live with it? Would it be for better? Or for worse?” The thoughts stopped as I started thinking about what just occurred. I started in on my sandwich again, and sipped the ice tea - man that tea was s-o-o-o-o good! I looked out across the street-taking in the neighborhood I had passed so often but never noticed for being in a hurry to get elsewhere. The feeling flowed again, and the thoughts started back up:
“Now comes the time to reflect on some things you learned before. You were encouraged in a rather unpleasant manner, through avenues of necessity, to steer away from the crowd at school in order that you might learn to think things out for yourself. You in your limited inexperience in life blamed the Father. There is no blame with the Father, ever. You were never sure where to place the blame for your misfortune, so you did only what your childish, undeveloped intellect could avail itself to-and up until recently, you continued to do so. It was a painful thing for a child-that’s true, but what would have been the use in trying to get you as a child to see that there was a higher purpose in such necessity to get you to where you are now? It would have only served to confuse you in your pain. But now that you have vision from wisdom of experience, it is easier to explain it to you. The fact is that you have arrived at this point only to now understand that you are still in one piece having survived all that you have, and learned to a much higher degree than those whom you thought to be barbaric towards you. Those with certain levels of lower energy, indeed lie susceptible to being used to such degree, and you would only have followed the crowd into oblivion and you would not be where you are today, knowing what you know, preparing you still for what will come to you. But you think you have been deprived when in fact you have been given more than you are willing to open your eyes and see. In the movie “Labyrinth” the little worm told Sarah; “Things are not what they seem in this labyrinth”- the labyrinth is like a mind game. Finding your way out means having to go in, and figuring out where you are and what you’re going to do to get out of the mess you got yourself into in the first place.”
“God! Who is this? It dang sure ain’t me!” I thought, astonished at the content of what I had written.
“You know who I am”.
“What is your name?” I wondered out loud.
No response.
I sat, stunned at the stuff I had just written down. “I wonder if I will ever do that again?” I could hear “the roaring of the silence” in my ears.
09 April 11:30 Monday - My intent is to use my lunch hour to go to the gas company again to see if I can settle my debt in small payments. “They keep jacking up the price, dammit! Raising the price of anything doesn’t increase it’s value one bit, and one of these days I am going to tell them just that, as calmly as I possibly can!”, I consoled myself. As I go down Bell Street from the base and get to the square intersection, I suddenly decide, without warning, in route to my intended destination, that I would go to the sandwich shop-although I knew I was too tired to eat, totally forgetting about the gas company. I drive reasonably for a change. I pull into the lot and sit for a moment, feeling no hurry to go in - after all, I am not really that hungry. I look down at the bundle of keys in my hand.
And the previous owner of this? I will always remember his smile and the way his eyes lit up when he laughed-even to this day, the memory of him still makes me smile-such are the real treasures in our lives “human art” in action! Mike is a good looking highly intelligent black man in the Naval Reserves, and this was his. He had a beautiful wife named Marissa. Such a sweet, classy couple they were. “Hmm”. I sighed a fatigued breath and considered how tired I didn’t realize I was becoming, as I ‘daze-gazed’ in disregard at the clump of keys in my hand. I had not contemplated, for the longest time, where my own travels might be taking me-I was just taking it for granted the security that I have right now, and was hoping that it would be a permanent thing, just for once in my life. There was consolation in the idea that it was possible if I would only bend every effort.
I walk into the sandwich house, and it is not as crowded as it appears on the outside. I put in my order and as I do, I hear familiar of music coming out of the ceiling speakers, but couldn’t readily identify it. “Will that be to go or, for here, ma’am?” says the cute little college-aged girl. I wasn’t paying attention to her that much, couldn’t decide whether to answer her or not because I had become sort of distracted by familiar music that I couldn’t identify mainly because of the restaurant noise-wherein one sound seemed to be trying to drown the other sound out. “Ah, I think .... I think I will eat it here. I really do need to sit down for a little while”, I said to her, smiling. As I thought of it, it was a good idea to sit down and relax and enjoy no thinking for a while.
As I walk down to the order pick-up area to get my sandwich and pay for it, the music sounds like motif of Beethoven’s but I am not sure-I’ve listened to his stuff long enough to readily identify anything-now, Tchaikovsky, for certain, I can. I asked the girl behind the counter, “Are you playing Beethoven music today?” “I think so, I don’t really know,” she seemed to be amused that I even asked the question. I cocked my head towards the ceiling and begin to really listen to it, and then the familiarity of it was obvious, as it got more intense. I got still and listened. Kreuitzer Sonata? Why, yes, dammit, it was. A longer version of what I had heard before-no wonder I didn’t recognize it so fast. So, it gradually sneaked up on me. “Oh, yeah”, I sighed heavily. I picked a table, sat down and began unwrapping my sandwich, taking in the sounds of the now recognized piece. I pick up one half of the sandwich, raised it to my mouth and as I continued to listen, the music seems more of a source of insistence to beg of my attention now than anything, as the psychic words come back to me: “he’s haunting you”.
The sounds in the restaurant seemed to be at a minimum at this time-I noticed. The more the music played, the more annoying it seemed. I put the sandwich down and nervously started poking holes in the wrapping paper with my toothpick, my thoughts going in several different directions. Then I thought, “Look, this is ridiculous!” I am now feeling irritated to the point with the two different situations in mind and I think of how logically coincidental and perfectly all right it is, that this music is playing. Then, I think of how I suddenly decided to divert off a path of intent, wound up here at this time-only to have purchased a $6.00 sandwich with no ambition to eat it-when I should have been taking care of a financial transaction that I started out to accomplish.
I hurriedly stuffed the sandwich in a ‘to-go’ bag and left, kicking myself all the way back to base. I pulled up in my respective parking area, and sat for a few minutes, staring into nothing. I sat and thought about what my younger brother told me years ago when we were in our early twenties. We used to have our little talks about things that we thought were “weird and way out”. He told me that “people’s minds are haunted, not places”. As I sat in silent contemplation about this, and tried to reason against her assertion about “someone haunting me”, my younger brother’s comment seemed to support what she said more than what I preferred to deny, because if I maintained against the “time travel” bit, then what can possibly be the explanation?
I went home and spent the afternoon arguing it out with myself, over and over in my mind. I tried to sleep but again, I never was able to shut my eyes. Two glasses of wine later I was still peaking at high strung energy and still couldn’t close my eyes. “Where in God’s name is this energy coming from now that I DON’T need??” I must be getting immune to alcohol! Finally! Too late in life, though! Bad timing, old girl!” The great debate raged on. I was still wide-awake when the alarm clock sounded. I hit the snooze button several times before finally deciding that I needed to get going, because I was now ready to fall asleep.
10 April 07:30. I make it to work, go into Col King’s office. I do my morning greeting to him and he looks worse than I do-like death warmed over-pardon my choice of words here-okay: washed out. “Sir, you look very tired”, I couldn’t help telling him. Indeed, he was, but tried to manage a smile as usual. “I didn’t get a wink of sleep and I am wider awake than you seem to be,” I told him. I was usually very careful of what I said to upper level management. He smiled a sad smile and said softly, “I’m glad someone is around here”. I guessed his problem was that some key people working for him weren’t performing their duties to standard (again) and that he was receiving a lot of repercussion from the General who was next up his chain of command.
10:00. I call Col King’s wife and tell her I am on my way to volunteer a hand to her as she prepares the luncheon for our division. “Oh, could you please bring some ice and cups?” she asks. “Be glad to!” I responded. I ask SSgt Johnson if she is doing anything urgent and if she’d like to ride with me to help Mrs. King out. She agreed. “Where can we get ice real quick? I’m running late”, then, “Oh!” I remembered, “The Commissary”. SSgt Johnson said, “Or we can go to Calhoun’s (a food liner just outside the base gate)- it’s closer”. “Oh, yeah, good catch! And I bet we won't have to wait in line, either!” I replied. We walk into the store. “Hey; maam, could you please point me to the ice?” I was in a hurrrrrrrrrry! to get in and get out-I hated grocery shopping. The attendant actively ignored me-and I gave her an indignant look. “You little bitch.” I thought, through clenched teeth, my gaze riveted on her like a martial arts ‘evil eye’. One of the men waiting in her line said to me, “It’s on the other side of the store, by the beer, ma’am”. “By the beeeeer, aye?” “Thank ya sir!” I said with a chipmunk voice-over. I was operating off silly-goofy time, no doubt. He was a nice man-even if he did look like a bum. I don’t like beer but a nice frosty one sounded good now.
As I walk around to the ice bin I hear words to an “oldie”. I slowed my pace, to the ice bin, tuning into the song and tuning everything else out to listen to something familiar “…..how can it be-you’re a different space and time in a place I used to know, long ago...Deja Vu, could you be the dream that I once knew...I keep remembering me, I keep remembering you...” Suddenly I felt irate, and without realizing it, I jerked the ice door open, before I realized SSgt Johnson was coming up behind me. She was saying something; I didn't catch her comment completely. I quickly recovered and turned to her, “um, I’m sorry”, I said with a pasted on smile at her. “I didn’t get any sleep last night.” At the check out the words seemed to get louder over the clerk’s voice….“…..somewhere before-in a place I used to know, long ago Déjà vu…” How much ma’am?” I had not heard her. I was ready to get out of the store before I made an ass out of myself. My nerves were shot on top of the fact that I was actually physically hurting all over for sleep. I fought at times that morning to keep my knees from buckling under my own weight.
The preparation of the luncheon went on schedule. I tried to look cheerful while the other ladies shared comparative notes. I was no good at socializing so I never seemed to fit into this little “joyous” exchange of conversation women liked to do-maybe I need to FORCE myself into it! I just couldn’t tune into them for thinking about how one event seemed to be following another lately, as I went back over the now known sequence of events-wondering what the outcome of all this will reveal to me. I wanted to know, and wished that a crystal ball really could be a useful, functional thing, after all. Their sparkly conversation faded in and out. I thought to myself, ‘I feel like--do I know me?’ I was so tired. Breathing was a chore, it seemed. I had put a salad together and was now frosting the cake noticing, that Mrs. King was scrambling-looking in vain for something.
“Can I help you with anything, Kitty?” “I’m just looking for the bacon bits-I thought I had some but maybe I’m out of them.” “Yeah, like I'm out of a few things-I understand, lady”, I thought to myself I then replied, “Hmm, most people would put those in their refrigerator”. “Well, could you look, please?”, she asked. I opened the refrigerator door and there they were, right on the door in front of me. They all looked at each other and laughed, after having combed the kitchen for the little bottle. “Pure logic, that’s all”, I grinned. “Things are hanging around-just like you left them”.
As I closed the refrigerator, I felt the coot and crisp gentle breeze coming into the kitchen window Kitty had opened as a breather to the now warm room that smelled absolutely wonderful of fresh baked dinner rolls. I turned around and paused, looking out at the sunny view, savoring the moment, feeling turned inside out. “Well, at least I haven’t lost all of my senses!” I mused. Eventually, everyone arrived, and the food on my plate looked really good, but I didn’t have an appetite. I picked at my plate, trying to look alive and interested with everyone else. I left the lunch party early and went to another building I used to work at to pick up a plaque reserved for me: a beautifully engraved piece to place on the granite stone marker “Memorial” in respect to the Declass Team I worked with, and as I got out of my car there was once again the uneasy “gut feel”.
I go back to the office from there, and soon as my little buns hit my chair to get something done at my desk, a high pitched whining electronic version of “Fur Elise” sounds off in a cubicle over the partitions-which one I can’t be sure. “SHIT!-I mean-DAMN!” I put my foot down hard, run around to my counterpart’s space. He’s talking on the phone. His cell phone. Okay, that’s what it was. He looks up at me to see what I want. I wave him off, shaking my head. Big deal. I take a deep breath and instruct myself to stop flying off the handle before I get hurt. “See?” I say to myself, “You’re just giving yourself a bad day, so cool it!”
I thought about what Col Sikes had said about her PCS to DC being moved up to June this year. We had projected October initially for this. She asked me if I would house sit for her for the next two years. Which meant I, too, would be moving again! But this was going to be a good move! I just hope tonight I will get some sleep. That would help more than anything right now. My eyes are not focused. I still am unsure there is anything going on except maybe I am “psyching” myself out. I need to QUIT focusing on this and focus on THE REAL WORLD.
I thought about what Col Sikes had said about her PCS to DC being moved up to June this year. We had projected October initially for this. She asked me if I would house sit for her for the next two years. Which meant I, too, would be moving again! But this was going to be a good move! I just hope tonight I will get some sleep. That would help more than anything right now. My eyes are not focused. I still am unsure there is anything going on except maybe I am “psyching” myself out. I need to QUIT focusing on this and focus on THE REAL WORLD.
End of log 16:41 10 April
11 April. I ob served that my concept of the real world as I know it, seems to be rearranging so that I can see it at a different angle or level. But, why? At least I deserve an explanation-which no doubt I will get, seeing how things have been going lately. Sometimes I feel as if someone else has been in the driver seat of my motor controls lately. I had given the psychic my word that I would go back to her on Saturday 14th at 09:00. “What if I don't go?” I thought, with some uncertainty, feeling that I might miss something important, despite my wariness. For what real reason should I trust her? I more readily trust that which has caused disturbances that has rippled the calm surface of my daily life; the reason being that it is these experiences in my life that tells me who I am and where I have been and what I have done; in other words-my “security blanket”. Equally important, though, is that which currently weighs down on me: did I do something that I didn’t realize that I did at that time? The question dangles in the air in front of me with no satisfactory answer either way. If I did “fall through the cracks” of my own “space” via my companion’s psyche, then that would explain the “went back in time” part. Perhaps I should talk to my companion again, after all and clarify some things I am curious about, now. What fun, then, to be able to transfer one’s self via the medium of thought and be with someone in a place like that, huh, without setting up mental coercion that occurs from trying too hard”. Paul and I were not “trying” to accomplish anything-it just flowed naturally and easily. The idea of contacting Paul again does not “flow so easily”, however. I have to be hard driven to have to do that. I don’t hate Paul. I just don’t “like” a lot of things about Paul. I’m certain the feeling’s mutual.
Lunch time: I feel a nagging that doesn’t allow room for an appetite. Again, GOOD TIMING!! I want “something” but the idea of food turns me sour. Well, back to the bookstore I go-this time down to the one at the Mall on the other side of the street from Barnes and Nobles. Ahhhh! What is this?? The author “offers fresh insight into a subject that has been much maligned. Now THIS sounds like something that might be good! I hurried home with it later after work, and began reading it. Two or three days later, much to my dismay, I have found out that again, we do not judge a book by its cover. What looked good and sensible and straightforward, only serves to draw anger and resentment out of me towards this author; just from flipping through her publication, I have noticed too many ‘ifs’, ‘ands’, ‘probablys’, ‘perhaps’, ‘most likelys’ and ‘buts’ in her story, although I have not yet seen the product of the author that she holds in such high disdain throughout through out her text, along with other authors’ works. She is doing some pretty heavy advertising for him to the point that I feel all the more curious as to what she is so defensive about”, I am thinking.
Too, something about the manner in which this woman writes just naturally provokes a feeling of wrathfulness I haven't felt in a while-I see white smoke coming out from between my gritted teeth and feel fire shooting out of my eyes like two search beacons looking for her. There is something about this book that I detect out of order, but can’t put my finger right on it. I threw the book into the corner of the room so hard that it split the back of it.
“Ooops, did I hurt the wall?” I wonder. I go over to examine the sheet rock. No marks, surprisingly enough
"Whew! Good…that’s something I don’t have to worry about replacing.”
I pick it up and the book is permanently “split” on it’s binder and something catches my eye that is in poetry form:
On the hill I sit gazing
Into the far off blue
Looking at the distant field
Where I you beloved found
Far am I separated from you
Between hill
Through time and space…
“Hey-that’s pretty neat-that kind of stuff is right down my alley –how sweet! Wow…well, I think I can hold onto this just a little longer….I want to read this again later.”
11 April. Last night I got home, I pitched a royal fit-cursed myself-saying to myself that I was crazy as hell. What had I managed to do, here? To console myself, I did exactly what I criticize other women for doing: I sat down with a bowl of Hog Heaven ice cream, drowned and floating in pure (?) Hershey’s Cocoa Syrup. Now that’s what I call “DEATH BY CHOCOLATE”! Inasmuch as I love to have it this way, I had to force it down; it had no taste to it.
April 12: 07:45. 1 am sitting at my desk now, trying to GET SOMETHING DONE to justify my paycheck! I am making progress, updating schedules, trying to “stay low”. I feel “shell-shocked” in a manner of speaking. Col King calls this morning to say he is running late in getting out of the health and wellness center shower, and wants to know when his first scheduled meeting is. I look at his schedule. “10:30, sir!” I respond confidently. “Thanks, Lisa-I’m going home to take a shower and will be there as soon as possible”. “Look dude”, I think, feeling a little embarrassed, thinking about my boss looking like a drowned rat, “I don’t care what you’re doing with yourself so long as you’re alive and kicking!” Major Anderson, an attractive and very professionally polished black lady with a great sense of humor, came to my desk soon as I hung up, “Okay Lisa!” she says, sounding optimistic and expectant, “Is our meeting still on at 10:00?” “Ma’am?” I ask, the question seemingly out of rhyme with what I just told Col King. “You know, the meeting with Major G, myself, Lt C, K and Col King”. “T-Today?” I ask again, cautiously. “Supposed to be”, she responded with some uncertainty towards me now-her smile disappearing. “Umm, let me verify this.” I looked on Col King’s Calendar.
A wave of nausea hit me. “Oh shit'”, I said under my breath, embarrassed. WHA T NOW????? “Oh gosh”, I said to her, trying to control my panic and keep embarrassment from showing, “I looked on yesterday’s calendar and told him he didn’t have anything until 10:30 today! I’ll try to catch him before he leaves the fitness center. He just called!” I assured her. She said, laughing at me, “Okay”, and walked to the back. I phone the fitness center immediately. “Cot K just called me- try to catch him before he leaves.” I ordered. “One moment, ma’am”. The attendant put me on hold.
I heard 3 measures of a slow country song, then a rich deep voice, “Talk about forever-r-r-r.....” The voice drawled as the music continued. “What?" I think. It sounded like the old style of country music-something Meryl Haggard would do. "Oh, no .... my brain hurts", I moaned to myself. “I wish you would just S-T-O-P it!!” I screamed in my mind no one there. I then wondered what in the hell compelled me to address the whoever-the-hell-you-are in the "you" sense. Before I could hear anymore of the song, the attendant came back on the line. “He’s already gone, ma’am.” I left a message at his house, and reported back to Major A. quickly. She said, laughing, “I’m sure he’ll be here long before 10:00. Don’t worry about it”. I hung up the phone and sat still in disbelief. How could I have missed that? That was an important meeting, and not to one person alone.
I angrily assaulted the imaginary whoever that I was no longer sure of this purported person with me or not, but at least I had SOMETHING to “target” and beat up on. “OBVIOUSLY, I’m at this point DEPRIVED-thank you VERY MUCH!-of sleep, and feel like maybe it’s time for a little religion in my life, after all! But JUST A LITTLE! Maybe instead of paying any of this crap any further heed, I should be focusing my concentration in on some serenity since I ain’t gonna get it through YOUR good graces!” I thought forcefully with my teeth clenched in the direction of “someone?” perhaps. I was slowly beginning to suspect WHO at this point. I only hoped this person was having fun because it would be over soon enough. So I do an electronic search “spiritual self help” was all I could think of to divert my mind from myself: The options? The first two was “Serenity Prayer” and “The Spiritwalk Reader”.
Readings
Serenity Prayer
God, grant me the Serenity
To accept the things I cannot change,
Courage to change the things I can,
and Wisdom to know the difference.
to Reinhold Niebuhr (1892-1971). It was adapted by the founders of Alcoholics Anonymous as a centerpiece of the various 12 step programs. Niebuhr acknowledged that
similar prayers may have " been spooking around for years, even centuries,
but I don't think so. I honestly do believe that I wrote it myself."
I have read elsewhere that he had conceded its derivation as a translation
of a traditional German prayer. The earliest publication, seems to be attributed to
Friedrich Christoph Oetinger (1702-1782), a German theologian and theosophist.
I read in a pamphlet which we gave patients in a treatment facility that The Serenity
Prayer was written by Friedrich Christoph which was a transposition of my father's
name (Christoph Fredrich Ebsen). Also the name Johann Christoph Oetinger, deacon
in Weinnsberg from 1762 to 1769, has been associated with the prayer. Although we
have no certainty about origins, we know that it was Niebuhr who translated the prayer
into English, expanded and elaborated it, and brought it to prominence in the
United States. We can thank the Recovery Movement for its current universality.
What follows is Niebuhr's original long version of The Serenity Prayer.
The Serenity Prayer
God, give us grace to accept with serenity
the things that cannot be changed,
courage to change the things
which should be changed,
and the wisdom to distinguish
the one from the other.
Living one day at a time,
Enjoying one moment at a time,
Accepting hardship as a pathway to peace,
Taking, as Jesus did,
This sinful world as it is,
Not as I would have it,
Trusting that You will make all things right,
If I surrender to Your will,
So that I may be reasonably happy in this life,
And supremely happy with You forever in the next.
Amen.
~ Reinhold Niebuhr
The Serenity Prayer
God, grant me the Serenity
to accept the things
I cannot change
Courage
to change the
things I can
and Wisdom
to know the difference.
Living one day at a time,
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardship as the
pathway to peace.
Taking, as He did, this
sinful world as it is,
not as I would have it.
Trusting that He will make
all things right if I
surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy
in this life, and supremely
happy with Him forever in
the next.
Amen
~ Reinhold Niebuhr (1943)
“Okay, I am NOT an alcoholic--just what were you thinking???” I contended in a barely audible voice at thin air. No answer. “Oh what’s the point?” I settled down and looked again. "….similar prayers may have 'been spooking around for years', even centuries? A translation of a traditional German prayer?" I never knew that. But, I had a creeping self conscious sense of “knowing” that perhaps I have been being “talked to” for something that I don’t know about yet, by a Ger-man.
It then occurred to me that, "Besides, wasn't Beethoven an 'alcoholic? Ah-ha. One finger pointing at me equals THREE fingers pointing back at you, Baby! You know what they say: look for the OBVIOUS!"
I have never considered this before. I am relieved to think this!!! And now, I really must stop writing!
End of log. Evening, 12 April 01 The end. the last end!
Friday, April 13 afternoon: Just something noteworthy to consider, so that I can put this matter to rest: I went to bed around 6:30 last night. I slept until the alarm clock went off at 5:30 this morning. I waited for anything else to occur. No disturbances of any kind. My mind cal@ I drifted off. I feel at peace this morning.
Friday, April 13 07:00 Friday evening: I am sitting at the dining table, contemplating that picture again, as I am thinking about things of late. By now, somehow, it seems like a trusted companion-it certainly seems to have a lot of “personality” to it. Maybe I'm doing it to myself-I don't know, but I don't feel entirely alone as I did before. I just feel sometimes like I can “talk” whereas I can't talk normally. I never felt like I could do this on this level before, yet here I am doing it-for whatever reason. I just haven't gotten this much out of being in my own company before-except when I used to run off to the woods as a teenager, and sit and "talk" to a "thinking" someone I dare say. One would think a grown woman would be able to find better things to do with herself, huh? But I just could not resist this! By now, I was busting to ask the question, knowing I probably would be better off not doing so, but I just had to do it:
“I must ask, so don’t be offended. Are you “dead”, or are you “alive””? I asked, as if I am addressing this person, my mouth curving into a smirk.
“Why does that matter?” The question shot back. My eyes fly open. “I must be crazy!” I thought, "but, we already know that now. Look, I asked you first”.
“My question requires more consideration”, a thought cut back in without delay, feeling like it almost had a voice.
“WHHHHHAT??” I exclaimed, snapping my head up and sitting straight suddenly, backing off in my chair from the colorful 11x14 print in front of me, my eyes afraid to look at those eye, now SUPER conscious and feeling spooked for certain in a way that I thought if I turned around I would see someone. I pull in my breath and try to find something less mysterious to focus on: the pencil in his hand-which the hand looks just as real as the rest of what’s represented in the portrait reproduction. “This is crazy what you’re doing to yourself”, I thought.
“You’re question is more difficult to answer.” I think back, more bravely now.
“Well how do you think I feel about yours? You didn’t really consider it. You were just trying to be……funny."
“Holy Mommy”. I should abandon this—really-whatever I call myself doing, while I am still ahead-that is, if I plan on trying to sleep comfortably tonight! What the hell am I doing, here? I think I had better go talk to someone. Who, though? Would I be better off than right now?? No. Because this seems to follow me everywhere anyway. Besides, what-who-ever didn’t seem interested in harming. That is consoling to consider. Okay, THAT settles it! Time to confront! So, here goes nothing:
So I thought, “Well, that’s because I am not sure what death would mean to me. I’ve never done it. You have.”
“Don’t you remember in one of you lessons that you abandoned at the BEHEST of your closest friends and your relatives where you learned that ‘we don’t die, we change’? Change is the necessary that one can continue existence on a higher level and use what one has learned to a greater end-like a act of expansion”.
“I’m sure I am talking inside my own head here”.
"Sure you are. That’s because as you understand things about yourself you also can get a whiff of intuition about the next person.
Kindred spirits we are.”
“Halt! One moment now”, I thought, “Why am I thinking this ‘we’ shit-where did that come from?”
I sensed as I do when I know I’m being laughed at.
“If you don’t know yourself, then how can you expect to read into another as you’ve been trying to do lately? You have to allocate enough time unto yourself in order to practice this. This person, too, avoided the meaningless conversation of the general crowd because he strictly managed his time to the point of getting as much done as he felt he could squeeze out of the effort. If something wasn’t worth his discussion beyond idle blather, he parted company, with haste. In his life, he accomplished much on that account, as any halfwit can see, or better, hear-do you like my choice of words?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“The obstacle course set before you, by the way, in military boot camp was not something for you to overcome and then be satisfied in overcoming and then slowing down. At the time, ‘boot camp’ was the biggest obstacle course, in your life at the time, or so you thought. Just because you jumped the fence and made it over, doesn’t mean that you are scott free.
“Before you chose to enter the military, getting away from your problems at home, you thought, not a day went by wherein something brought tears to your eyes, and you spent many a day feeling sorry for yourself, and at a level that you could not see yourself, one observing at a distance could determine that you believed you were not in the position to pull yourself out of it. Your beliefs about yourself were primarily what were keeping you from you own advancement. So you were stuck in your own self-made little world of chaos that kept you spinning like a cycle instead of seeing the road stretching out ahead of you.
You were doing all right, after you got out of tech school. You had a sense of the fact that you could do so much more than you had imagined you could do after you got ‘the boot’ in Basic Training. Less tears, or should I remind you, very little tears, and more accomplishment, better use of your time.
Then, when you got to tech school for the second time, you made the mistake of allowing yourself to be totally pulled in by another. You met this young man that you “clicked with” almost automatically and you mistook the cue to be a good sign for you. His outward whirl of energy overwhelmed your own and you were determined to keep up with it rather than going at your own steady pace that you needed to properly assimilate things for yourself. You’ve missed much on that account because you allowed yourself to be railroaded off the path meant for you that you started out on but connected to another in a disastrous way-jumping the tracks. You’d agreed before, that apparently you lost sight of that you’d use your free time for self-improvement and exploration. Instead of using your free time to get to know yourself better as you had promised to do earlier on, you weren’t paying mind to the fact that this person had a charisma that he liked to use to his gain, and you abandoned yourself.
Recognizing his needs/demands above yours as you felt his goals were more important than your own slowed you in your path, as your attention is primarily one-sided and therefore consumed by him. You were under the illusion that eventually your association would get better on this crumbling foundation-you operating from within your self-made confinement barred you from the truth of the matter.
When you heard the name “Beethoven”, you instinctively recognized Beethoven as a higher authoritative source of knowledge above your companion, because now you no longer felt alone in the constantly growing cold company of someone who always elevated himself higher than you in an arrogant sort of way. That gave you a measure of strength and now you felt your feet on a higher plane of stable-ness. This moment of contact elevated you-but as you got what you hoped for you were not ready for it-do not rush into theses things-nothing happens before it’s due The reason you did was you had become desperate enough in your want to reconcile yourself with “something” vital you knew was lacking in the association of someone with which the interpersonal relationship was based on deteriorating base; due to the haste and waste of your talents and energies strewn here and abroad instead of responsibly gathering them up together for purpose of strength and stamina to sustain yourself when you needed.
Your lack of wisdom is cause that you became pulled in and all over with him-that you neglected taking care of your own energy until one day you realized something was wrong, and you never really realized how much of your time energy and talents were being directed more so on him rather than where it really should have been concentrated, and that was about the time your companion was informed that synthesizers did not become anyone who had any determination at being their best. Certainly, as near as he was artistically to being to the top, he would have done well to have taken it to heart, because now look: the fruits of his actions is that you see he is not doing what he is supposed to be doing-he sits behind the wrong keyboard, now, questioning why the two of you stopped where you are now and didn’t progress together to where he wanted to be-where he wants to be you would be way off your kilter.
You and he came to the end of your paths together here. And that is right for you ---what is yours-your sacred energy is not for his sustainment. This charade went on long enough until the point just before it was entirely too stifling and counterproductive for you to adequately handle your circumstances. So in the end you required assistance as his energy was set and strong too much so for you to dismiss. The push-pull effect was disorienting to you.
You lacked the strength to quit, so dissonance had to be increased to get you off his hook. The suffering and pain was good lesson for you therefore, in retrospect, that understand the consequences of ignoring your needs to the satisfaction of another, impeding your own growth to which you are responsible. Everything has an end to an end, as relationship does demonstrate in that you have learned much through trial and error. This you will not look back on, as there is much still to accomplish on your part.
“So, now. Will you continue with the notion that I am ‘not r-e-a-1-1-y here’? Why must you?”
I got tickled at that thought.
It started again, “You need to adopt a stricter self discipline.”
“What? Why do you say that?” Thinking I’d already had my fill of it in so many ways.
“Because you have allowed your conscious mind to become such in that you prefer to let it go on it’s unguarded way to devise methods to deal with that which you mistakenly believe is driving you up the wall. Like me-for instance. So, you deploy a front of humor when you think that things are becoming illogical to you and lack “common sense”. You have yet another lesson coming. So now, let me ask you this, is humor logical?
“Have you ever heard the expression, “It’s a sure thing”? Oooops there I go again humoring myself.
“Is that your answer?”
“Yes”. I let out a laugh-couldn’t hold it then.
“If I might interject while the occasion permits, we’d get along a lot better if that attitude of “a sure thing” was geared more properly towards me. But, true. Humor dispels negativity and evil in its seemingly greatest forms that hinder the progression of humanity and stumps growth towards more desirable end attainments. What a blessing, eh?”
“Oh, yes. Thank you-for everything.” I felt so much calmer and less need to guard myself from something now.
“Thank Him”.
The thoughts stopped. I felt alone again. Really alone, although I knew no one was really there. That was strange to me. Knowing you’re alone but not feeling like it, but when an energy drops and leaves, it’s instantly recognizable the absence of it. I sat now, my mind system feeling somewhat altered. It was at that stage that something dawned on me: that the mention of Beethoven being the person Paul spoke of was becoming more of a surety than before, as APPARENTLY my mind must be opening up like a vault revealing it’s safe-kept secrets back to me, and releasing information back to me, but unless I had a way of knowing for 100% certain I wasn’t going to rest until I was absolutely sure. It just seemed strangely helpful that having this “image” that I’ve had now for a few weeks in front of me helped me to focus-in on my own thoughts, but what I didn’t want was to fool myself in any way at all-I don’t want to live a lie-where’s the good in that? So there’s always a lingering element of doubt that keeps me in check, and on this road to discovering, until I find a way to clarify my suspicions. Funny how that damn flick about Beethoven spurred a disagreement with Mother and actuated me onto this path. Who gets the blame for this one? No need to point fingers at this point as that isn’t the larger issue here, apparently.
Saturday 14 April 10:00 AM: I am realizing, after last night, that I should no longer wish to shut this writing off-although I suspect that my nervous system could benefit from doing so-but I get the feeling this would not be the time. Am I tempting fate, though? Seems so, as I feel I have fallen on another one of my swords. This is another weird twist and so I have to write it down! This morning, I made a conscious decision to lay in bed and let the time pass, knowing that the hour was approaching that I promised to return to the psychic's house at 09:00. “I am sure that I don’t want to go back.” I tell myself. I got up and made a fresh cup of coffee and went to the living room, opened the curtains as wide as possible to let in some light to this dark and dreary house. “Oh man-what a beautiful green and flowery world outside!” Green, green, green and bright it was, too, as my living quarters was literally in the woods with the rest of the neighbors. I had not noticed how much spring had advanced any more than I had been aware of modem history and current events taking place around me for the past three months. I’d been resigned to this house shut-in in the evenings straight away from work and shut in at work straight away from here every morning before the sun could come up. Now, the green world was a big surprise to my eyes!
I now feel so “out of sorts” with my immediate environment. Leaving home each morning, having to watch the other guy behind his wheel to keep myself from being pulverized to make it to work in one piece was all I seemed to be concerned with. Personally I am now wondering why anyone would risk getting killed going to work for someone else-risking your life for another’s sake on different more critical issues seem more noble, however. I leave work late, head for home, get inside and lock myself in and not go out except for groceries later at night, head straight to the music box, put on classical music, eat, bathe, turn it off, go to bed-without even turning the T.V on for any news. Somehow turning that T.V. for the news seems the wrong thing to do, having divorced myself from the TV and the radio-engaging in music without lyrics instead-because I am at least talented enough to make up my own words to any music, if I want. Then, sometimes, I think it best not to do that.
As I sipped my coffee and reveled in the serenity of the morning, I thought, “How nice it is to wake up relaxed like this and be as lazy as I want!” I was smiling and feeling free from anything that burdened my mind and spirits previously. “What can possibly go wrong?” I could think of nothing. “So don’t -divert those thoughts now, while you still can!” I instruct myself. So, I deliberately focus my attention on the chandelier hanging low over the dining table, light bouncing off it’s antiquated structure, making it appear more elegant looking than when lit by artificial bulbs, then dropping my gaze down on the china hutch sitting in front of me on the other side of the table, that has the cups Aunt Lois had collected from all over.
“Well! There's one to consider”, I thought. A novelty cup called “Fortune Teller’s Cup”. It even has the little booklet with it, still. Aunt Lois-she was always good at keeping things like collectors items in “mint condition”, and was forever getting onto me when I would lose or break things people gave me. Aunt Lois had given me a cup just like this one on my birthday in my early twenties-because she knew I was curious about “curios”. She got it when she visited England on one of her genealogy excursions. Of course, she had given it to me for that reason only-novelty. I often thought of how superstitious the English were purported to be. I smiled at the thought of Aunt Lois, funny little lady she always-but she could be serious too. I miss her. I was not able to come home to see her before she had passed on while I was in Arizona.
I took the cup’s little book out, and thought, “Hey, what are you doing? You don’t r-e-a-1-1-y believe this stuff”. Of course I didn’t! “Tea leaves are for tossing out the door, not dabbling in, and anyone who does do it obviously thinks they have nothing better to do”, I declared. But just for sentimentality sake, I opened the first flap. “Cup symbols, heh heh”.
I opened the second one where it tri-folded. The first thing I noticed on this page was a drawing of a knife and it stated, “knife: symbol of discord, separation and unhappiness”.
The image memory of the dream about the dark haired man whose face I couldn’t see with the knife in his left hand that I was trying to bar from my room came back to life in my mind, and I froze as I took in the details of the door opening, that knife in his hand making it’s point with me as he was trying to force his way through, me running to the door and pushing it back, feeling cold solid smooth surface of it, even now I can remember the real feel of that. As I brought myself back out of that thought-I realized I was holding my breath. Somehow relating this to the meaning of that dream that I had no ground of understanding to decipher it before, was indeed like a “stab of an answer”, and I bent over involuntarily in the chair. I began to think more in depth about the dream. His dreamy, but vague seeming features, I still struggled and groped with the blurred vision of the unidentified face-trying to connect it with someone-anyone. “Do I know this person? This is irritating! Crazy! Oh, God! What if I turn around one day and I suddenly see him and find him to actually be someone I know-or don’t know-which would be worse?" The thought itself, is spooky feeling.
The discord part I think could be memorable of being with Paul all of that time that culminating into strife. The “separation and unhappiness” part I don’t get. When I parted company from Paul, I had not been happier. In fact when that dream occurred, and I had parted company with him then, I had begun to release the “discordant” feelings and unwind, and Paul certainly seemed to be broadcasting no distress signals, either. Then again, perhaps this is nothing, and I should just disregard it. I think I will, and see “how goes it”.
I look around the room, trying to refocus on something pleasant. Then I began thinking about all the free-flowing information like currents of thought waves that seemed to have no known logical origins, that when I consulted with the psychic, she confirmed that “someone was trying to tell me something in order to help me” and which can only be associated with something she says I did that I need to rectify. My stomach felt unsettled, afraid of anything else that might be delivered to me in a moment of unexpectedness. My stomach had that butterfly effect in it. “Maybe there is something I’m not seeing about myself,” I thought. Then a thought flickered, “If you will get yourself out of your way, you CAN see.” It was at this point that the obvious was becoming more evident: the consistent persistent pattern: when I conceded to the possibility that I am sharing my space, things would settle down. Then, when I would think my imagination was working overtime and I dismiss the possibilities, things started happening again. As morning graduated into noon, I began to feel guilty for not going back to see Dorothy. But then, I really thought that I couldn’t afford to, considering my finances and that I didn’t have money to gamble with. Besides, I had real obligations in contrast to this obvious “ethereal and intangible” imaginary matter at hand that I could not prove with hard evidence, even if I had it to do.
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