“I not sure I know who I am anymore. I only know that I probably need to do something, but don’t know. What is it?” I demanded, growing impatient-feeling that everything I have finally managed to acquire of late, for stability sake is slipping away from me. As if to answer back, there was that PERSISTENT, not so seemingly still small voice again- not what one would expect as the “voice of an angel”, either, but more like it as I was now accustomed to the tone of things now, it was a low rumble of thunder indicating a storm brewing. “The danger lies in ‘clinging to dust’, instead of what is real and everlasting. Stop telling yourself that what’s happening, really isn't. How are you feeling, by the way?”
Suddenly, I wanted to just get out of that house. Had to. “Yeah! Let’s go driving!” I jumped out of my seat, then halted. “Let’s?” What am I saying? ....oh crap, I give up. Come on, then, however it is you choose to GET IN!” I was getting irate. I, or should I say, “we ??? for sanity sake, went to wash my car and fuel up. Inside the car wash seemed indeed an appropriate starting place for “coming clean”. Seems I cannot stand up for failing down. Suddenly I felt overloaded with emotion in my brain-a trigger wanting to be fired for release sake. “Why do I keep feeling like a Goddamn yo-yo?” I sighed heavily. I turned around and grabbed pen and paper because here it came again
“YOU broke a promise this morning because you are so afraid that ‘it’s going to cost you’, like she said, oh yes it is-but not in those terms. Pity that you can excel at this-that you neglect channeling your energy into anything truly worthwhile. Don’t you get it? This vicious cycle is your doing! Your refusal to deal with it. That pattern is of your own design and do you ever wear it well! That’s why you feel bad right now- either way you are going to pay a hefty price. You cannot escape this. Haven’t you been listening? So, now let me ask you: what’s it worth to you? Wrack your brain, my lady!”
“I know that. SHUT IT UP!”
Don't tell me to "shut it up"! What do you think “the big picture” is all about, anyway? You need to make some very astute comparisons here for yourself before you get further down this road you’re on. You’ve got what you need, but you’re not doing what you need to with it. There is something you refuse to face up to that you are afraid to bring out and examine, and for your own good, you must reconsider. But, the choice is yours-no one can do it for you or force you to-they can only work at encouraging you-but you have such a stronghold on this lock that bars you from yourself, that you seem so proud of having control over.”
(By now, I was exiting off of 1-85 to the Herron Street exit heading towards Prattville, still scribbling-hard and fast-writing as I was driving trying to merge with traffic. "God! I must be reckless!" I thought.)
"Lemme guess: you’re ANGRY at me, now?” I asked, daring to raise my voice, hoping to affect a calm in the thunderous voice rattling my cage.
" 'Angry ' "? How many times do I need to spell it out for you? Wbich flavor do you like-WHAT sounds good to you? It doesn’t matter how many times I say it and which version you hear-it’s the same message that you're not getting. Let's give you credit where it’s due, here. You’re not stupid, but you do have a problem and ifs obvious. See, it sits on your shoulders. Want me to define it for you? Here: it’s called a “hard head.....”
“Hey!!!” I said, smiling trying to lighten things up, “Are you that-um-entity that Dorothy spoke of?
“Oh! You have got to have that clarified, too?”
(Silence. I didn't want to hear any more of that. I was getting beat, as usual, in this battle of the wits. Then it started up again ....
“What have you learned about the behavior of opposites?”
“What are you talking about NOW?” I growled through my teeth.
“Simple to comprehend! North and south ends of magnets do a very peculiar thing when they come in close proximity to one another”.
Oh, I get it-that’s a dead give away-too easy! You must be the south end. Get it? HA. So what's your point?”
“You're the one who isn't getting it, that’s what my point is!”
“I sure would like some more of that serenity stuff right now, ya know?”
“Well, the ball’s in your court. GO GET IT”. You have been met halfway already and now it’s your turn.”
“Stop!” I said, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. God, it hurts sometimes when you need to laugh, but don’t want to.
Inside Prattville Walmart: The first thing I see, stepping in the door, around the comer, is a RACK OF BOOKS??????? “No, no, n-o-o-o-o! Look at the f-l-o-o-o-o-o-o-r!” I tell myself. I look at the floor at the bottom of the rack and then glanced upward by mistake. A book entitled, “HELP ME! I'M MARRIED!” on the bottom rack. “G-0-D!” I grit my teeth and grin, trying to keep from laughing-the title just struck me as toooo funny. I know that if I can’t contain myself I will be making an ass out of myself in public, and there will be no one else to point a finger at. I look up to see a woman customer standing at the check out counter smiling at me as if wondering what is up with this grown woman. I can see her eyes dancing, too-she isn’t fooling me. I ducked into the isles, trying to “get lost” from sight.
By evening, I am feeling “unsettled” again in the pit of my solar plexus area, for no real reason. So, I went over to where that now “confounded” portrait print, that I now regarded it as, lay on the table and snapped at it as though it might actually comprehend. I had to target something I could see, was my mad logic I suppose. “Go away! I'm tired of you!” Then I thought, “What the hell am I doing? What I am doing, I am doing to myself, NO ‘self control’! Then I thought out loud again to nothing or no one, “This is just me ‘reacting’ to ‘logical situations’ again-there’s no evidence to support any of this and I may be just doing it to myself again.” “Oh, you want a-n-o-t-h-e-r sleepless night?” something seemed to tease inside my mind. I shook my head as if in gesture of a ‘sanity check’, then said out loud, “I plan to sleep like a DEAD MAN,” I boasted in self-defense, then caught myself, “Lisa, shut UP while you’re still ahead!” I warn.
I have trouble getting to sleep. Why am I not surprised? Seems that each time I try to command myself to relax, I would tense up suddenly, most notably in my calves. So I would tense my legs and try and relax them as a counteraction to the sensation. Then change positions, but the feeling persisted. I gave up. “Please let me go to sleep!” I wanted to cry myself to sleep but nothing would come out. So I couldn’t relieve my senses in that manner. I folded like a cheap tent. “Okay. Have it your way.” I relaxed, gradually drifted off after some time while I was trying to discern what should be considered real and what was not. I didn’t get to come to a decision. Briefly, it seems, I slept. But it was not worth asking for.
I dreamed I was on an interstate, seemingly headed north, unsure of the reason why I was driving on it in the first place. The road ahead seemed unclear-a dark uncertainty about it. There were about two or three cars some distance ahead of me. Suddenly, a law enforcement car has its lights turned on, siren sounding warbling as the vehicle makes a mad dash off the ramp-it came seemingly out of nowhere-and then crossing over as the driver sped up to get ahead of me into the same lane as I. He was parallel with one of the cars in the left lane. He began aggressively and persistently blowing the horn as if the driver wanted the other car driver’s attention. This, in turn, seemed to agitate the driver of that car, and the driver then began misbehaving on the road, speeding up. This dance went back and forth for a moment, and I felt I was too close to what might become a tragic situation.
I put on the breaks to put distance between myself, and what I anticipated might happen. Someone almost rear-ended me-a driver in whitish van-because of my action in the process. The van-seemingly, oversized to me-then pulled in front of me and further prevented me from seeing ahead at the action of these two whom I felt were flirting with disaster. Unable to see what was going on, I then heard the sound of tires skidding and then a very loud bump-glass sounded like it had literally exploded. So, I was unable to see the entire sequence of events to understand exactly what caused the crash, but the sound of the wreck made me feel “heartsick” in the pit of my stomach. I opened my eyes in the dark room I slept in and the first thing I became concerned over was my older brother who had just gotten back onto the police force. As I knew he was working tonight, this elevated my concern of the possibility of something having happened to someone I love so much.
Awake and worried now, I saw in my mind’s eye, the logical: various colored lights at the scene of an accident. I closed my eyes and tried to go back to sleep. I could not get the tragic scene, and worse than that, the feeling out of my mind. It felt too real-frightfully so-although I knew I had been dreaming. I tried to close my eyes again to block the image out of my mind, but I opened them to pitch dark again.
I lay awake again until first signs of daylight. I was tired again. I stayed in bed and drifted-not sleeping, but just drifting in and out of different levels of consciousness, thinking about things and why they might be causing me to be going through this "psychological" torment. After a while, something seemed to be directing thought towards me, “You want sleep, and I want something. If I can ever get it out of you, then we both can rest.” “Easter morning”, I then realized. “He is risen”, I thought, joylessly. Then I thought, “Oh, yes of course, Him too. You bet!”
April 15 Sunday I noticed something silvery falling off the eaves of the house. It looked like rain, I wasn't sure, so I got up and pulled the sheers open and sure enough, it was coming down. I made coffee and finished “picking up” around the house, whereas I didn’t get to do so yesterday. 11:30 came around and I decided that I would get out of the house and go get one of those sandwiches I liked from the bread company.
I was halfway there, nearing the exit of the 231 loop, headed towards Clay Street, with it still raining, when it occurred to me that driving there was senseless, considering it was Easter morning. But then again, I didn’t seem to have much “sense” left in me. As I got onto the interstate going south, I saw on the other side, an accident. Several emergency vehicles were on the scene, and the ambulance departing the area going north was not making a mad dash to leave.
“Oh, no!” I thought, worried. “Lord, please help those people”, I prayed. I could not see clearly, but when I got parallel to the scene, a dark compact car, similar to the shape of the one I saw in my dream was sitting next to a reddish colored pick-up truck that was crunched inward on the driver’s side, from the door jamb forward, to the front fender, like someone had side-swiped it. I am thinking that if the victims have survived, it would be a miracle. Past the scene going into the Atlanta highway, I’m somewhat shaken by this and how it reminded me of that dream just hours before, and somewhat more cautious now. A thought comes at me: “Unfortunate. Nonetheless, you saw this coming. In a way, you should take a good look at yourself in comparison to this. When are you going to stop thinking that anything else that has happened is less real? This, too, is unfortunate, that you won’t. Indeed, you are reckless”
April 15:Sunday night. I once again had accepted the events and things that had been going on with me as something that warrants a more thorough investigation. Once again, I felt at case. I slept peacefully.
April 16-afternoon: I call mom from work in the afternoon and spoke with her, just to touch base with her and perhaps, try and touch on what I knew as reality: so I asked her point blank if she believed in angels. I wanted to know that perhaps if anything, I was dealing with something good. She wanted to know why I asked and I cautiously said, “Well, I kinda don’t feel that I’ve been alone lately- does that sound crazy?” “Do you think someone is living with you?” she asked specifically. Did she have to ask that? “Who do you think it is?” She asked. “I haven’t the slightest idea”, I lied. “Your Aunt Lois?” “Well no,” I said, certain that this was not characteristic of the Aunt Lois I knew all of my life. “I don’t particularly get that feeling” “Maybe a relative?” “I don’t think so”. “Who, then?” “Mother, I can’t tell you.” If I told her that, then I would find myself explaining everything else in order to justify why I thought so. “Why not?” Now, I’ve been told all my life that I am just like my mother and this is why we can’t get along, although I deny half of it. But, whereas prodding someone until they give in, I definitely have to differ with anyone that I am just like her. I know when to quit-usually after the second try. But, Mom? We all have moms and I don’t really have to explain this, do I?
“Because”, I thought to myself, “there are some things that you just don't discuss with relatives and close friends”. Experience tells me that they are not too understanding. An uninterested uninvolved bystander with an objective viewpoint is a safer bet. And so I danced around the subject with her about “to whom this might possibly concern”. That much she could not squeeze out of me if my life depended on it. She said, “Well, Lisa, I can tell you that I have never doubted that we all do have angels watching over us, but I don’t think we are supposed to know who they are.” “How do you know?” I wanted to know, my heart starting to shake a little in that something hit me hard as a realization that there might be more to this and more credible that my imagination, as I suspected half the time. I had asked, “Who was the name”, and didn’t get an answer the other day. It was hot in the house, but I felt “chilled” inside. I no longer thought this a “joke”, but started looking at the situation with a more serious attitude.
She started on me again. “Is this someone I know about?” Like I said, she doesn’t know when to quit. “W-e-1-1, maybe; maybe not.” “Who?” she kept chiseling away at me. I was almost sorry I’d even phone her at that point. “Somebody.” I said without thinking. “Damn! What are you doing?” Now I was using an actual character reference of “person”! “Do you know who this somebody is?” I wouldn’t answer that, but I told her in general that I was having an unusual string of experiences that I’d been having without going into detail; then told her about going to see a psychic. “Oh, you did?” she said with surprise in her voice. “Yeah, I did.” “What for?” she asked. “I just told you.” “You couldn’t tell me?” she asked. “Hell no, mother”, I thought. Then I said, “Well, no, not about this, but you always told me that if I felt I couldn’t talk to you that I had better talk to someone.” She told me then, “Well, Lisa you know that these people ask you questions in a slight manner before answering you”. I said, ‘I know that mother, I just needed someone to talk to at the time, and she just happened to be the first available person at 10:00 that night and I really needed to talk to someone.”
I had to make a quick exit. “Hey mom, maybe I’ll tell you more about it later. I just can’t do it right now.” She relented then, getting the message, but said to me, “Well, Lisa, next time you are inclined to throw your money away like that, you just come down and see me with it and I will find a better way to justify spending it for you”. Thanks mom, I thought sarcastically. I knew I could count on you for something smart-assed as the last word from an all-wise voice of authority. God, I love her unconditionally, but God forbid: she is not the person for me to excavate “deep issues” with. Can’t she just listen without lecturing for a change? There really is no one to talk to, (so maybe that is why I am having to write it?)-maybe when I’m dead and gone, they’ll find something useful to do with this effort.
Thereafter, I became real “down” on myself and couldn’t pull myself out of it. I wanted to just “snap my fingers” and have everything back to “normal” before all of this. I wasn’t getting things done at work as I felt that I should or wish that I could for job satisfaction and goal striving sake. I was always having to do things as “last minute”-crucial stuff, like a house threatening to slide off its foundation. I exerted extra energy in trying to ensure that I didn’t misstep and let things fall through the cracks. I didn’t want to fail in anything at work. I drove down the winding Jasmine Hill road from Winn Dixie in Wetumpka, which seemed longer than ever this evening. By the time I had gotten home, I was in tears. I parked the car in the garage and stayed there, and calmed down. Then, I felt alone suddenly, too soon, for no reason. I cautiously got out of the car, and as I turned around I thought that I saw a “barely there” shadow hurriedly walking away from me towards the living room wall, then nothing. I shook my head, certain my bleary tear stained eyes were playing tricks on me. I grabbed and opened the half jug of the Paisano, and instead of pouring it into a glass, as usual, I just turned it up and started drinking out of it-too fast too soon-I just wanted to fill that void and numb it, and close my eyes and go to steep as fast as I could, so that I would not have to think anymore.
April 16, 7:30 PM. I tried to focus on sleeping and how good it would feel, as the night before. I couldn’t concentrate on resting because I was getting those sensations again in the leg, then on the side of the head if pressure were being applied to both sides of it. I turned over, readjusting myself, to see if that would make any difference. Yes, it made a difference, in temporarily disrupting the sensations that came right back, and still I could not close my eyes. I could not believe that something seemed very much to have me completely by my mind, now, and I could not rest as a result. So, the only thing left to do was vent. I had to blow off steam. I sat straight up in bed and talked into blackness:
“I must congratulate whoever or whatever is causing this for the ability to be CONSISTENT”, I thought angrily, now thoroughly fed up with the process, “something that you seem to be better at than me!” “Oh, no, you’re consistent too-an equal and opposite unwavering reaction”, there seemed to say with a touch of humor coloring the air about me. “The problem you’re having is that you have so much to place blame with, that you don’t where to lay it down first." I couldn’t take these “insults” anymore. I became very arguable. “I’ll tell you what my problem is! My problem is that I can’t possibly believe in anything if I CAN'T SEE IT!. 1 can't see you-now maybe that is what my problem is! But you see me-I don't think THAT’S FAIR! But, I am NOT afraid of you! And you wanna know SOMETHING ELSE? The whole problem with me is that right now we are each other's problem! THAT is what I am having a problem with! So, in knowing that, I don’t have a problem!”
“How many times is it going to be like this before someone admits a stalemate?”
“No kiddin’! Finally! Someone admits it!” I shot back without thinking, but just reacting.
Nothing. No Response. Silence hung in the air like a silver halo of clarity. The only thing I was aware of now was my breathing. I felt like I had just gotten something huge off of my chest. I had blown my top, and the pressure was off me now. I felt a tremendous sense of release from grief, like something lifted off my conscience. I felt a sense of freedom somehow, but wasn't sure of what to do with it. Then it hit me. I backtracked, and thought about what I just blurted out. What was that bottom line, again? Not up until then, did I really realize that it was me who hadn’t been “getting it”. I felt then like I had just lost the argument. At this point, there was no fight in me.
By 11:45, 1 had cooled down because I sensed that this “battle” somehow had run it’s course, and that there had to be an end to it somewhere. I was hoping that the hour was finally upon me for it. Now that I had blown off steam, what had been so suspect many times before was still in front of me as the fog cleared from my senses. It had been there again and again and it was the only thing left standing to observe after this final stage in the whole conflicting process. I remembered then what the psychic said to me about someone wanting me to see something, but that person could not get me to see it because I was blocking the effort, somehow, but that I didn't know what I was doing to cause it, and that was what was frustrating me, and preventing the other from succeeding in the assistance of it.
What a tangled web we certainly do weave! I was realizing more and more the very real coinciding differences in my acceptance of things happening as really having happened in a progression of events that was turning into the story of my life at present and being at rest, then rejecting it and being restless, as becoming a set pattern. Was my conscience working for me or against me, here? If there was anything that I was not seeing, and complaining about not being able to see, then this must be it. Otherwise, just like any good salesman who knew when to quit talking, why the sudden deafening silence?
I then, for some reason, realized something: if you want to understand someone, put yourself in his shoes. I opened my eyes. “What? What has this got to do with anyth....... oh, no”. As I turned my eyes to the right and looked in the direction of the large mirror on the wall, I thought I heard a quick “zap” to the right of my head, like “nervous electrical discharge”-a lightning quick “something”. I sighed, tired of thinking at all, closed my eyes and turned my attention back to my thoughts. “Mirror? Shoes?” I became relaxed. So, how do I get out of all this?”
Then, I remembered an ad many years ago in the back of a magazine, with a figure sitting cross-legged in a robe, and the caption said, “The only way out, is in.” I thought to myself, “I have to go into me in order to get out of this problem?” “You wanted to know something. You wanted to solve something on your own terms because you didn’t believe anyone else. So, look.” “Look at what?” I wondered. “Think”. “Think? I’m tired of that!” Silence, again.. This always seemed to be a cue for me.
“Look”, I thought. “What’s there to see?” Then, I remembered that “picture”. Think-about what? I started to drift off to sleep after a moment.
Tonight-17 April I must say that was one heck of an experience. There is no sense in telling myself it never happened. “I may have an angel, indeed. It doesn’t matter who it is”. Indeed, in my flying dreams and my falling dreams I have sensed to varying degrees, “another” that I have never been able to turn around to witness the face of the warm presence of strength. Most folks who would hear this comment knows right away what I am saying. They too, have felt it.
I read the words to the song and they never meant anything till now. so near, so far .... ah, wherever I am there you are also"; how very similar indeed, are those words in this song near, far, wherever you are ... I believe that the heart does go on. Yes indeed, how similar are the thoughts of human beings around the world that does suggest a base continuity of connectedness, no matter "where we are" or "when we are". I can see what it really means. So, I heard it again for the very first time, tonight. Now, it is like an endless loop recording, forever and ever around and around in my mind.
Next day, I have a fire in a wheel barrow, outside. So what of all the books-especially the one on the “singing for life”? Well, today, I thought about all of the money I spent on those books that I have never read but sit and collect dust instead. I wondered out loud why I did that to the know-it-all somewhere in front of me, beside me or behind me. I was ready for anything that would be “pull out of the air”.
“Are you sure you’re ready to hear it?” came the response.
“It’s now or never”. I encouraged in full reception to it.
“You think if you can read so much into your life about what you believe is real-this life you live, you can compensate for what you aren’t willing to admit that you know so little of. Just as you have to open up to music in order to learn to respond to it, you cannot close yourself off from who you truly are-as you have erroneously done in the past. You see now how dangerous it is.”
“God!” “You know what I find irritating about you?”
“Yes.”
I raised my eyebrows, almost turning around, “What, then?”
“That I can be honest with you when you can’t. It’s easier for me to point it out, as it is difficult to face oneself in the mirror. But it will be easier on you if you’ll accept the truth, whatever that mirror is showing you. And what you must do for yourself is make a conscious choice. You have the free will to choose taking the lower path, which constitutes dying, or the higher path, which accelerates living. You can continue to turn away and ignore and no matter how many steps you take to distance yourself from the truth about yourself, it will never end up like you prefer, even in your dreams. The essence of truth is eternal and you cannot alter that just by desiring it to be a certain way when it is not. That is error.
In summary, my fear of death is almost non-existent, now. It is a comfort to be free of a fear of something that I know is inevitable. Why this string of occurrences that led me to this revelation, all I can say is that it remains to be discovered. Too, I know that I won’t cross over alone, not after all of this. End of log. Nothing follows! xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
21 April Noon. Yeah, right-nothing follows, as always. I think I understand why this thing is still running like it's in control of itself. guess I haven’t heard the fat lady sing-do I have to??'?? I am wondering if I should give this “psychic” thing another try. Dorothy told me not to go see “another reader”. I wasn’t going to, but I was going to talk to Col XXX, who is a very understanding person in so many ways, someone I can trust. But I haven't seen her, lately. As I sit at the now infamous Bread Company eating my favorite sandwich-that flavor that I will always associate with this string of events now, I feel the need to really talk to someone, and I ask for a phone book from the counter. Very few choices for “readers” in this city-being where it is-in the heart of the South. I act on instinct with a choice.
I call the Psychic Center, halfway expecting a “frumpy grumpy”. I find that the voice on the other end is friendly-more open and receptive. Nice change! After talking with this lady on the phone, I feet more comfortable in going to see her. I do, and as I am speaking with her, sitting on her couch, I noticed that she has a pair of fairly large white Egyptian figures seated side by side on the table in front of me-whereas in the other psychic’s domain was the Buddha figure (just an observation, here). I commented about the statues and told her the lady I went to before (didn’t call her name) had mentioned something about Egypt and then I tried to explain what she said regarding a pyramid. I asked abpout the graceful figurines, “Who is that”? She said, “That is King Tut, and his wife”. She is very easy to converse with, and best of all: NO RIDDLES!!!! She speaks plain English!
She then proceeded to tell me how she came about owning them. She said, “It is my personal belief that everything has a match to it, somewhere, that there cannot be one without another”. “Oh yeah, that is my idea about the duality in nature, too, but I don't have enough knowledge in this area in order to argue the point and win whereas so called soul mates are concerned because I believe strictly in individuality-that God, himself is individual-but that is not to say I am right about soul mates or reincarnation- I just have my own conclusions about that” I said.
“Yes, I understand what you are saying”, she said softly, smiling. “But we do agree that duality does exist throughout nature. My challenge that I like to take is to find the missing counterpart and bring them together, and I enjoy doing such. It used to be that I owned King Tut by himself, and I was always looking for the match to this figurine. I never could find it and I gave up on it.”
“One day, my husband came running in excited to me and said, ‘Honey! Guess what? I found her!’ I said, ‘you found who?’ He said, ‘I found King Tut’s wife!’ And that is what I am doing with both of them together!” she smiled at me. I really liked this young woman-she was a breath of fresh air to me after all of the previous upsets! She wanted to hear what I had told the other woman and so I repeated I told her about the progression of events and how when I tried to get on with my life, things happened that interrupted by capacity to do that, and when I turned my mind back to it, things stopped happening.
She said, smiling, “What that sounds like to me is that someone doesn’t want you to ignore and forget about this, but to deal with it.” Guess there’s no getting around it, then-having heard it from two different (pardon me – THREE- different) sources. She was such a pleasant personality. Still, when am I going to get to make time for it? And how am I going to do it?
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