NO ROOM FOR IT’S ROOTS Part 1

For several months I have concentrated on the food part of Macrobiotics.  I just finished reading Confessions of a Kamikazi Cowboy again and am finding an integration of the parts into the whole.  I decided to read it again but didn’t get very far.  I was struck by something that hit me like a physical blow.

I know this sounds weird but I often see “dead” people, mostly relatives, or close friends.  Seen them all my life. They usually appear soon after they have died and sit looking at me amazed that I can see them, or perhaps that they can see me.  I can see the surprise on their faces.  Sometimes I taunt them: Didn’t know I could see dead people, did you?  Other times they’ve been there awhile, then come visit me to leave a message.  I talk to them (mentally), ask what they want to tell me and as soon as I understand their message, they’re gone.

Just before I started the MB diet a group of my relatives kept appearing.  I though it had a special meaning so I gave them my attention and said,  “It looks like I’m going to die.  Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

What I ‘absorbed’ from them had to do with sugar.  I was killing myself with sugar.  I was dying for sure, but I was doing it to myself.  I was eating little chocolate treats that “only have 12 grams of sugar in each one.”  I understood their message and cleaned the sugar out of my house.

Recently I saw that group again but their message this time was more subtle.  Sitting in their midst was my ex-husband who had inflicted more pain on me that I thought I could bear.  He looked a bit different.  Even his eyes had changed, but he wasn’t looking at me as were all the others.  He was looking off toward the side.

I exploded!  What was he doing with my family?  After all that he had done, why did they allow it?  I don’t care how different he looks, which I took to mean he had changed quite a lot.  But that didn’t take away from what he left behind, what he had set in motion before he died.  People often show up within a few days; took my mother two days, my dad, instantly. An old boyfriend didn’t take long.  I was in the bathroom which didn’t seem to matter.  He took my face in both hands and kissed the top of my head, laughing happily all the while.  So this man taking several years to show up at my psychic door told me he had come a long way from where he had been spiritually when he left this plane.

Just days ago he came back for another visit.  This time he’s alone and he’s looking straight at me but I see nothing in his eyes of the man I knew.  Still I didn’t let him off the hook.  Plowed right into him.  Does he know his cohorts are still carrying on what he started?  Of course he does, but I didn’t give him a chance to say so.  What he did was unforgivable, absolutely unforgivable.  I turned away from him, after telling him to stay away from me and my relatives.

The next day – the next day! – I decided to re-read the Cowboy.  Skipped the intro and started with the Preface — the arthritis, weight, drinking, cancer —remove any of these and you diminish the fabric of my life —my joy has been because of these.

And it hits me full force.  I see again what I was shown long ago — I’m walking up a stairway at a slant angle, slowly, laboriously, when I become aware that my husband is on a downward course on the same staircase that is only wide enough for one.  With each step he makes a ‘zzzt zzzt’ sound.  We collide violently; he, walking right over me like I wasn’t there.  I am left lying flat on the floor, barely breathing for fear of falling.  There are no longer stairs going up where I’m lying, just a flat surface that is so steep that I press to the floor to keep from sliding down, breathing ever so slightly and carefully, even pressing my fingertips down.  I hear him continuing down the steps like nothing happened.  My direction has changed.  The angle is almost straight up and down.  His direction has changed as well, he keeps moving downward, making the ‘zzzt zzzt’ sound with each step.

Because the ‘collision’ was so monstrous it stayed with me too long.  And I only saw the front.  The big, big front.  The bigger the front, the bigger the back.  When someone does something for you, you want to thank them for their kindness.  His acts were done viciously, so I couldn’t thank him, but I could forgive him.  I always knew, instinctively, that I couldn’t run from the situation I was in, that I had to go through it.  I had to come out on the other side of it with an understanding that would happen no other way.  Running away would have kept me on that long slow path.  Forgiving him is a necessary part of letting it go.  The antagonism was complementary.

If this hadn’t happened in my life I don’t think I would have found all that I’ve been learning, especially now.  It turned me in a more positive direction.  Without the pain and anguish I would have missed this book and it’s teachings about food and life.  I would have missed the man who wrote it.  I like knowing he’s in my world.

I think I’m growing roots.  And I can stand alone.

…and the man or woman who would have remained a sunny garden-flower, with no room for its roots and too much sunshine for its head, by the falling of the walls and the neglect of the gardener, is made the banian of the forest, yielding shade and fruit to wide neighbourhoods of men.

Ralph Waldo Emerson
Compensation

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VISIONS Part 4

 

This is the first major, breath-taking vision that I remember. I was married and had young children when it happened. I was so stunned by it and it’s presentation that I actually told my husband about it. Big mistake.

It was night. I was sitting in the passenger side of a car, just sitting there like I was waiting for something or someone. The door on the driver’s side opened and a man got in. I didn’t know him but I knew of him, had heard of him. I was surprised to see him. I didn’t seem to think it odd how he looked; acted like I didn’t see the Western hat, the huge sunglasses, and that the bottom of his face, beneath the sunglasses, was covered with a mask. The mask was formed like a human face. He had a presence that was unique. In the vision I knew who he was. I was engaged to be married in the vision. He said, “You’re not going marry him, you’re going to marry me.!” Perplexed, I just looked at him. He started the car and drove off as I thought, “He’s a good driver.”

We drove to an old house which was in my neighborhood; the house was from another century. The outside of the house was the same. Inside it was totally different. Much bigger, with a ton of people milling about like they were having a party. My ‘fiancee’ was there, standing by a long table with some other people. He was my real-life husband. He was wearing a suit that he had when we got married but no longer owned. The Man with me gave him the same message: “She’s not going to marry you; she’s going to marry me.” Then we turned our back on the party and, hand in hand, walked toward the stairs.

The stairs were very wide and covered with furniture. From side to side, from top to bottom, chairs, sofas, tables, whatever, the stairs were covered with furniture. We just looked at each other and started to climb over it. If I had trouble as I struggled to climb over the barrier,  he helped me, pulling me across the obstacle that blocked the way,  both of us laughing all the while.

I don’t know how long we climbed or how many floors, but suddenly we were at the top. We stepped onto a landing that faced a wall. Suddenly I had to use the bathroom. There was a door to our left that he opened. It was supposed to be a bathroom. It was much larger than most bathrooms and had no fixtures except a large toilet bowl in the middle of the room. No tank, no sink, just boxes stacked around the walls like the room was used for storage.

It was the toilet bowl that claimed my attention immediately. Not one like you see in a home, but one that is always used in public restroom – big white bowl with a black seat that was split in the front the way those black seats always are, not a complete circle. A public toilet. I was dismayed but said nothing. Still, I didn’t want to sit on a public toilet. Toilets in a dream have to do with cleansing. And this was a public toilet.

I closed the door as he waited outside, then the scene changed. I was up on the bowl with a foot on either side of the seat, stooping down. (Sorry about the graphics). I heard voices and looked back at the door that I had entered. It, too, had changed. It was wood on the bottom and a single pane of glass formed the top half. Outside the door was the Man and an old lady. He was saying to her, “Take care of her. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

I turned to look at the room around me with boxes on the floor and stacked against the walls. When I turned back around, the Man and the old lady were gone. Suddenly I noticed another door right beside the one I had entered. Earlier when we stopped on the the landing we faced a wall that apparently had another room on the other side of it. Now there was a door that I hadn’t noticed before. It led into that room and it, too, was half wood, half glass. There was a wall phone beside the door on the inside of that room. Standing directly in front of the door with the handset to his ear was my husband at that time. He was looking me straight in the eye. We looked at each other for a minute, then the vision vanished.

 

~~~~~Bathrooms have to do with cleansing. The boxes represent the psychological content of our Consciousness that we have stored in our brains that eventually must be looked at, considered and emptied. That’s the cleansing of the brain of the past. It’s part of spiritual growth.

As I finished writing each of these posts back in the Spring of 2014, I published them on a forum. They didn’t stay up long as I felt I had bared my soul, and it was unnerving. I couldn’t rest till I deleted them.

I see them differently now.