DEEPLY AWAKE: ENTANLGED By Kathy Vik
What I am about to share with you is unique, to Deeply Awake, an maybe to you, too.
Before we begin, I need to explain a couple things.
There have been massive changes within my consciousness, and this has been going on for about three weeks. It was, until recently, standard that my time feeling bad was loosening up, getting ready for a showdown, maybe, but, still always present, and something I actively worked on.
I can see now the sheer force of will, and I am staggered. The unwillingness to be ok with discomfort, with not liking, with judgments which made my skin feel like glass an my backache.
I cannot pinpoint a day, although, if I looked over my notes, I could probably get it down to an hour, a minute, that one shining moment when momentum had finally and for all time been achieved, but, this, again would be a personal journey, and there would be little I wold have in my hands for you at its end.
Walking, then, from this now hazy moment of starlight and sweat,when things finally shifted and I could no longer access the darker variations of thought, has been glorious, and has been proof to me that the death motif alive and well in the ascension philosophy is no mere metaphor.
I have been working on this puzzle for a while. In an essay where I describe a visit to a local channel, doing a group reading, I told you about the gesture this kind soul bestowed on my shoulders, tapping his cane to one shoulder, then the other, and this had been precipitated by a question, asked in suffering and fear. How do I get my new life to start? The old one is dying and I don’t know what to do.
I have not re-read that essay in a long time, but today I will. Peter had smiled at me so indulgent, in his altered state, and they had said, Oh, no, it’s really not like that at all. You carry the new with the old. You have led a master’s life. Why on earth would you want to discard that? This is about bringing what you learned along for the new life you carry. Words to that effect.
It was a puzzle, it was highly unsatisfying to hear that. I wanted my old life to end and, maybe in a flash, or with some sort of fanfare or ritual, this new me could just freaking take over already.
Instead, probably a year has passes, and more changes than I could chronicle, though I wrote down the big ones.
And here I am, having lived as an exposed nerve in the blogosphere, telling you everything, leaving nothing to the imagination, fully embodying this notion that life is best lived without shame, and, here I am, silent to you, when the biggest shifts are occurring.
And it is all just as it should be, so complex and lyrical it is dizzying and moves me to tears in gratitude. I feel love so thick and real now, I move with it, I breathe it, and my laughter sends out its sparks, turning everything firey and clean.
So, this, this is not channeling.
And that is what I have been ramping up to say, dear reader, precious friend, my own.
I have long had an argument with channeling. Not because the content is not amazing, because, well, just look at it, it’s a gift, it’s mind blowing and prescient and beautiful. And I have had ample proof that it is real, for me, for me, just and always, only for me, and, then, by extension, maybe you, but, you see, a part of me always really really resented this separation. It makes no sense to me really. Not really. It is a false division. Necessary at present only because our DNA was not wired for sound, and we are still well within incredibly low agreement fields. They are breaking apart, but still tenacious.
So, channel is purposeful and good and true, for me, but, how does one live it, that was the question, the secret tiniest of shame I felt, having to channel to get the good stuff.
This I see changing now.
I will tell you next of the crow. Each reader must know what it is I am going to be doing with this next part of my life. I will need your help. Your encouragement. Maybe even some of your support. And I will make a case that will have you, by its end, convinced that you are on the right side of history, here, standing with your arms wrapped around me, and each other, but for now, because we always have to start somewhere, I will now tell you of the tornado, and why May 25 is a day I will forevermore honor and celebrate. It is my graduation day. It is my anniversary. It is my marker, this date, and it is nice to see a pattern, you know?
What I offer you now was written two hours after the event described. I was beyond abstracted, and mention it. I did not want to write it,I needed to write it, and there is an immediacy in it that I hope I have not edited out. I left things just as raw as I could.
I know I am not the only one. That one thought has kept me sane more times than I can count. I am not the only one.
And so, dear reader, I want for you to make some sense of this story, once you have heard it, inside your own skin. And then, I want to hear from you, I really do, and I want for you to tell me your thoughts, your reactions, and , if you have had such an event take place, please, share it here, or with me privately. I know I’m not the only one.
This idea of new life/old life, it is not that simple, and yet, after all the work, the trust, the walkabouts and the changes, sometimes I think it does come down to perfect, perfect moments. Those that will shine for me,that I takeout at night sometimes, just to fill my room with sparkles before my eyes close. Miracles are afoot, they always have been, but now, oh, now, we are on new ground, ground opening up for us, pulling us onward now, magnetically singing to our atomic structure, walking us home.
I hope you feel the immediacy of these events. This is the story I wanted so much to be alive to write, and would have liked to have been told, as I braced for impact, laughing, crying and holding my brother, Bob.
I have a readership, and, I used to feel that my greatest responsibility was to them, in a way, my first responsibility, and so, I was willing to write about anything, and the work pushed my life, and my life pushed the work. And I wrote and wrote and wrote. When something sparkly happened, it went out.
But this, even though I started this out as a Deeply Awake, this, no, my friend, I just don’t want to share it with them just yet. I want to tell you of this night, and maybe part of it is reality testing, and maybe, just a little, it might always be about that, just a little. And maybe, just maybe, with context, you might come to understand why I am sort of hardwired with doubt.
How could I not be, knowing what I know, or imagining what I imagine? And this then is the the point of telling you, of writing and posting month after month, now year after year, and sharing with the world out there, too. Without doing so, this stuff just never feels entirely real.
I thought, on the way home, I wouldn’t be writing to you about this for your approval, or your awe, my god, never awe, please, but just because I am witness to miracles, and they are best shared, and they are not seen by many, not really that many at all. And this miracle, above all others, must be honored, asked how it would prefer being given away. This it deserves.
I was at work, it was getting late in the shift, so I was going around to the units, getting report for the night shift nurse. It was after 6, and I had had a very odd day. I felt very nearly absent, at times. I kept feeling pulled away, and then I would find myself having forgotten to give that pill or this treatment, and found it had been a long time since I’d last been fully present. Odd.
I was halfway done, on station 4, jotting a couple notes, happy to be going home soon. And then I heard a siren. At first, I just sat there, wondering what I should do next, if I should react, and how.
I checked my phone, but there was nothing. I thought I’d better go up front and see if I could find out if there was a threat or not.
I don’t remember how it happened, but it got clearer and clearer to me as I made it to the front of the building that something was very wrong, off, different, new. Then I heard a big, reedy male voice, coming from the air itself, outside, talking. I found a door to the courtyard off 5, and there was Leisa and Melvin, leaning into the wind and rain, straining to hear. I yelled, “I can’t hear! What is he saying!?” to Leisa. And then I heard it. “Seek shelter now.”
Seek shelter now.
I took off to the front, the lobby. On the way, I didn’t check the weather radio in the supervisor office. I went outside.
Out there was Darla and Dakota, and they were looking all around and wondering. The sky was sick, it was spinning and it was alive, the whole sky. There was blue, way out east, and this was reassuring, but all around us was sick, spinning grey clouds.
And then, I looked up. Just up. And there, in front of me was what I have been dreaming about, a lot, I remembered. All the nights of feeling the spin, seeing clouds, knowing I was dying then, that this was how I die. I knew those clouds, and I could feel them, and I knew I was in deep shit.
Even with this evidence, I heard myself babbling on about tornadoes I’d been through, what they’d felt like, how they smelled and tasted. I said I couldn’t see green skies. I couldn’t hear the train in the sky. I watched, only vaguely knowing I had to do something about this.
They were not being shy about what they had planned. I looked up directly up, in front of me again, then, and the clouds got white, a little bit, and then, in that swirling grey white mass, they parted. Just sort of drew apart. My chattering was stilled. Those circling clouds parted, and the sky was green. Sort of a sea green to lime green. Darla and Dakota were sort of turning, looking, and concluding that there was not a problem. I said, no. I said, look up. It’s RIGHT THERE. That’s a tornado. This is real.
Then I felt what I always do in these sorts of situations, but nothing like this has happened, not to this degree. I knew what to do. I knew where to go. By that time, the night supervisor Arlynn was there, she approached me, and I was calm, I was quiet, and I was forceful with her. It’s the real deal. We are in danger. We have no time. We are already late.
She’s an old nurse, for goodness sake. She knows the drill. But something about it, a loaded gun pointed at you, a tornado less than a mile away, it turns a person gushy and makes them want to have someone tell them what to do. She was sort of stunned and paralyzed. So, I had to get pushy. I made her get me on the intercom, because I did not know the code to activate the all-house pager. I announced overhead that a tornado was imminent, and they needed to get into the core of the building, away from windows.
I told her I’ take 2, she could take 3. I got to 2, and I called out, and I love my body and voice when this happens, and it very, very rarely does, only in medical emergencies, really, maybe once or twice in real life, but, there came the voice. Ultimate authority. Clear. Surprising me. I like it, it feels good, so natural, but, a part of me at this point has stepped aside, unwilling to provide commentary.
I evacuated that dining room in no time. I put the fear of god into them, sitting as they were in a glass encased tomb. I made it plain, they have no choice, this is not up for discussion, because I know something they don’t, and what I do now with what I know is more important than little will and bitching about inconvenience.
They did great. We floundered a bit at first, but then I saw it. Move them all out into the hall way, away from windows. Let them sit tight. So we ran it like a fire evac, used the magnetic deals on the doors, up if someone was in the room, but pulling the washer away from the magnet and letting it dangle if that room was clear.
I saw Arlynn in the back hallway of 2, doing her best.
The thing was, there were three more units, and I had just got the hang of this thing. I found myself up front again, needing to talk to everyone, telling them what I learned, how to do this better than I’d thought up at first. I wanted to use the intercom. And I didn’t know the code. I got out the supervisor book, and I start crying as I realized it’s not there. There is no way to warn them. I can’t help them, because these fuckers don’t take their very serious job seriously.
I thought, I am never coming back. I can’t be part of it anymore. I can’t stand idly by anymore. And then Rhonda comes up and sees I’m upset and I turn to her, it doesn’t have to be like this. I wept, as I shook. I can’t do what I need to do in this emergency because they are so disorganized. They don’t understand how important all this is. I’m no longer looking at the pages I’m turning, so blind with rage for these people’s failure to care, no precision, no responsibility, no thinking ahead and preparing people, making certain none of us talk with each other. God.
I just decided, Arlynn isn’t a monkey, and she saw what I was doing on 2, and she can just copy that. And she did, it turned out, but when it looked too tricky, I somehow found out that she’d left the bed bound in their rooms. My third announcement corrected for that…
I pushed on, to 3,and there was one of ours, in his bed, acting assholish as usual, refusing to get out of bed. I heard he was being a dick, so I said, honey, in this state, he just needs a whiff of me.
I marched in there, and he’s on the phone, and actually putting me off So I tell him, I know it’s very rude of me to speak so forcefully, but this cannot wait. He tried to engage in conversation with the guy on the phone again! So I laughed, and I said, you don’t understand. We are moving you out of this room, in your bed, and you really don’t have to like it. It’s happening.
His whining ceased and instead he yelled at me, “I have a right to refuse! And I refuse to be moved!” And I am thinking, I will not have him get in his own way about this. I laughed again then, and that other thing took over. I pointed my finger (I purposefully never do that) at him and said, Good! Yes! Yes! You have the right to refuse, and you can refuse loudly and angrily while we’re pulling your bed out of this room. And we did. And he was insufferable the entire time.
I got done with this nonsense, and went down a hallway, but realized I didn’t know where to go. And what I thought was, I’m not sure where I want to die. Who do I want to die with? I didn’t feel comfortable anywhere, as I thought about the units. And so, I went outside, out front again. By then, the clouds were massive, truly ponderous.
So exhilarated, so sure, so dead on. I can feel it now. Knowing I was confronting that which I had been fearing, in my cells, what I had been preparing for. And it was raining like a motherfucker. And then, I heard it coming, and then, there was hail. But it was just baby hail. Lots of it. And I got so close, out in the rain, wind whipping, weird sucking feeling in me, and I was laughing and crying and hollering, Is that all you got? Is that all you got? And I giggled and shook my head and moved my body, and I felt good, very real, very alive. The sky was alive too, dark, moving, constantly moving.
And so, I understood this was real, it was possible that this is how I die, and, isn’t that something, tonight is that night of nights.
I stopped at the supervisor office to give one last message. It was simple and true. I told them that even though it was, at this point, risking their own health, I needed all staff to go pull the remaining patients in their rooms out into the hallways. That it would be over soon. Hang tight. We are safe.
I headed back to 5 then. I knew where I had to be.
I was greeted by Leisa, and she understood I would stay here now. I found my dear friend Don, and I boomed, Oh, my friend Don! You must be in HOG HEAVEN!
He sat, there, meek, one of many, and he sort of jerked up straight, cocked his head and said, “I am!” through his big, toothless grin that I am glad I have with me now. I put my arm around him and asked him if he was ok. He told me yeah, but his weather radio was alarming and it was making him not feel good, and asked me if I would turn it off. I was hugging him, by then knowing it was almost on us. It was time. I told him, ahh, let’s just let it ride, OK?
He said again, that it was making him feel real bad. It would not be a good storm for him if that alarm continued.
So, I disengaged from Don, the sentinel, the one who was built into the system to make sure we were ready for this outcome, this odd day in May. I go into his room, as people are telling me not to, and I couldn’t find the damn button. I felt just such urgency and dread, foreboding by this time. I knew I was dying, but I wanted to do it out there, not in here banging on his five weather radios, obsessed as he as always been with early detection of weather.
And then, I find the buttons, there is silence. I turn to leave his room and see my friend Bob.
I love Bob most of all. We are in full on love with one another, and we call each other as we know each other, brother and sister. I love him so intensely it knocks me back sometimes. He is a living embodiment of gratitude. Here, I want you to read what I wrote about him, something I wanted to read at a staff in service, to help them understand why it matters, what they do, how they act, what words they use… wait… here it is. It’s from “Self Evident”
I want to end this by telling you of an experience which occurred for me two days ago. I was at work, reluctantly attending a celebration for the crew. Not being comfortable in social situations at work, I’d taken to the back,taken to silence.
I patient came to me in a lull in the festivities. He was allowed entrance because it is known that he likes to give me gifts. He goes around and gathers magazines, then seeks me out and gives me stacks and stacks of these things.
As he handed me a stack of Guns & Ammo and Elle magazines, I was overcome, just overcome suddenly with the truth of it. Here was a yogi, a sage, someone who owns nothing, whose greatest defining characteristic is his generosity. Sure, some make fun of him, and few understand him, bu there he was, yet again, looking me in the eye, handing me a gift, smiling, wanting to make me happy.
I teared up and told him he was the most generous person I had ever met. We hugged, and off he waddled, off to his bedroom on a locked ward, which he shares with a floridly psychotic elderly gentleman.
And so, the dictation came, and I let it, and it is this dictation I close with. It explains why I have done as I have done these last forty years, and it further explains why this leg of the journey may very well be complete.
“As part of All That Is, in this Divine Mind, in accordance with the dance of the universe, I will say now how I wish for my lifetime to go. Let me speak to you now as a mother, one who knows me best, and wishes no harm to me.
Please make me slow of wit, quick of temper, unsteady of gait, and make me deaf. Give me weak eyes, and difficulty understanding others. Let me have a wild and reckless youth. Let me break everything I touch. Let me have had the sort of life which makes for legend as I finish my days with my companions, my fellow teachers.
Let me finish my lifetime behind a locked door those with sharp tongues and intellects guard. Let me be poor, let me be found begging for trinkets, reduced to asking permission to take a shower.
Let me have odd habits, and let me, in the end, become a bit of a caricature, a character.
I give permission to be a fool.
I understand that as such, I am a teacher, and I will hold an energy few will recognize, and most will discount. Let me then, have my friends, and let them be among my table mates, and those who tend to my self inflicted wounds. Once in a while, send me someone who understands my role, who, perhaps, might be able to gain access to this conversation.
I choose this life so that, at the end of it, I will have embodied gratitude. Let me know this vibration as I never have. This is what will burn in my heart, and it will be my true north. Let me know gratitude. My service will teach others, and I will come to embody that which will give me the strength to pull this off. It is a graduate life. It is a saint’s life. Let me do it well.”
As my coworkers swirled into their ever changing groups, as their air buzzed and crackled with rumors and all the other nonsense which drives so much human behavior, I heard this, I knew this, and I understood some fundamental things. Primary among them was that not everyone in this big dining hall sees this man as I do. I am so grateful for this knowledge, I thought, and then, all the bad feelings I’d had about not fitting in well in my work group just sort of melted away. What mattered was me and this man, having seen and loved each other so well. It’s the only thing that matters.
I have been among the suffering for many years. Nursing called me, I did not want the role. I have done it gladly, because through the years I have met these yogis of love, these saints, dressed in rags, burned or broken or disfigured as they might have been, each of them a teacher, each of them an elder.
I understand the suffering, and wish to alleviate it. Sometimes I misread the suffering though, and the panic sets in.
I exited Don’s and at the end of the last couch in that exposed, lethal hallway, sat Bob, the most vulnerable to the glass that is going to hurt all of us, but him, it would be worst for him.
I stood with my back to the window wall, and held him, sideways, me bending to him so that I could rest my cheek on his bald greasy head. He just naturally pulled his arms to me and we embraced. We did not have to speak, though from time to time we would untangle from each other and seek out each other’s face. Twice we did that, as I kept seeing the wall we were leaning on implode. I saw wood, I heard glass,I could feel the release, I felt like laughing and praying, and I wept. We would look into each other’s eyes, and so in love am I. So in love, so whole and happy and sure, with him saying I love you to me, and me knowing he means it and needs nothing more than to say it, and me saying it just like that to him, and then, I would put my head on his, and he held each other.
In those moments I will tell you what I knew, although I was far away, and it is hard, even now, to focus on any of this, oddly. I feel robotic somehow, but now, finally, my body is heating up.
Here is what happened.
The first time, that first embrace, finding Bob and him pulling me to him, knowing the glass would get me but not him, oh I was overcome. With gratitude to take the glass, to let him live. God I love him. And there was Leisa, somehow, arm around my waist, bending to me, me saying oh Leisa I love him so much. I love him so much. And then, I could feel all of us, all of us there,and oh, the love I felt. Oh how much I love them, I kept repeating. Leisa saying,I know, I know,I know.
She said she would hold me, and I said no, I need to be with my brother, and she said, I know, and again I felt the wood and glass go through us, I saw the flesh,i heard the wreckage. I told her, I feel so good having your arm around my back like this. Please let me work.
Something came over me. I stopped crying. I heard them and I felt them, and I could feel this enormous bubble. I saw a pure white beam of light, so sharp, so beautiful, so intense, god, and then this huge bubble come off it, and then the bubble turned gold and it was the place. We were in a sphere.
They said, get a grip, sort of. I told them I was afraid that my energy had somehow called this to this place and I was sorry, I just don’t know what I am doing yet. And they said, quite the opposite.
They counseled, this was expected. It was a strong potential. This is one of the many reasons you are here, this night, of all nights, given all the potentials before you. It is purposeful, because it was coming. This is why the dreams. Don’s presence was to keep you mindful, and he played his part well. I felt him bow. And then, I understood, it was not language, I understood that I, like so many of us now, effect the weather, effect matter, can bend things and protect and assist.
There are no accidents now, you are always on time now, I understood. And I could feel release from the bubble. It was done, and I could see how the clouds were repelled, and moving away. I kept calling the twister, wanting it to just be over, ready, ready, strong and ready, but it wouldn’t come. I felt the sky and saw the energy moving, and later, when I was watching 7 news, I watched the radar patterns, the same patterns I had felt and seen while holding Bob.
So, the weeping had stopped, and I felt weak and silly, but I knew I had protected the building, and this had been what was to have happened, but there was always another way, and there is now a new set of probabilities with which people will work, because the fields are different, since the outcome was not the strongest of potentials
In the midst of this, I felt myself as the storm, and I felt so free, and I was told, this is a gift. I knew I was seen, that my presence was felt. I understood that one of these gifts was give me proof, they said, and to show me now what is possible.
(Just had an intense feeling of thinking you must think I am certifiable…)
I was fine, after that. I knew it was all done, and the hail was still there, and the wind, but I knew it was just another spring storm now.
I made my way through them all, after saying good bye to Bob, and I left the unit, cutting across that courtyard, to go back outside. The clouds were beautiful. I feel like I spent more time out there than inside, but that can’t be real. I watched, and I really hate lightening, so I timed it so that it was not likely I’d get fried, as I scampered over to the porch that leads to a tv room. This gigantic tv was babbling about something inane, so I finally found the remote and changed it to the news channels. Channel 7 had so many eyes on the ground, really good cameramen, and they put on a great show. I watched the pictures and was stunned.
This motherfucker had been on top of us.
It still sort of was. But within minutes, it got boring, because the threat was moving up. They said this was a really weird storm, because it had started in Sedalia, and then made a very abrupt and unexpected turn, and it followed, basically, Kipling all the way up. It nestled into the crevice between mountain and land, and then sidled up, winding north, staying in that valley it shouldn’t be in.
And so, I had then remembered that the tornado warning was up at 7:30, and this wasn’t interesting anymore, and then saw the always-had-been-there time stamp area, and the time was 7:29.
I deliberately walked up to the mic, not consulting Arlynn, and announced, pretty much word for word, after getting their attention three times, “The tornado warning has been lifted, and we are safe. I want to thank everyone here for acting so professionally, and for everyone’s kindness during this. I am proud of each and every one of you.”
And that was all, really. Except for one very curious thing.
I began to feel really, really embarrassed, because I had become this massive presence, just fucking no nonsense in a way that people just bow. They really have no other choice. God knows I think it’s weird, and I keep a lid on it, but, good god, if provoked , properly provoked, appropriately provoked, then, well, it cannot be used often, because it is so powerful, and now all I was feeling was exposed and stupid and silly and over reactive and bossy and awful.
And Arlynn said, out smoking, there are some pictures you need to see. A mom of one of the residents had been driving in when the storm hit. She had her camera, and she took pictures of ACTUAL FUNNELS, fully functional, thick, nice funnels, blocks from where we were. Imagine! A mom driving in for a Saturday evening with her crippled daughter, and she sees this going on. Imagine her worry, I thought. Imagine to courage to come anyway, I thought. It was impressive, as was the size and vitality of the things. There, I think, were three. I told her, you know, I really needed this. My panic over how people would be treating me, now that I showed them this, it eased. It had been real. It had been real.
I realized then, she had been the woman who had come in from the storm right before I made that first announcement. I had looked at her and said, dead on, we are in the middle of a weather emergency, so you’ll have to go to the dining room and stay put until this is over, or you can go, but we’re tucked in. This had been that woman. I realized it and I apologize for having been so gruff, and that I hoped I had not been too rude, but it had been serious. She said, oh, no, oh no, that was fine.
And then I knew I had to end by going back and seeing everybody again. I stopped at the desk, and this really bitter, angry, sneering CNA was saying that before it happened, Don had come out of his room just all bananas, saying he demanded to speak with a supervisor (he knew it was me, I’d hung out with him earlier that day, after weeks of not being available), saying “It’s coming! It’s coming!” Through snide laughter, he laughed at how ridiculous Don had been acting,how foolish. And so, without another word, I went to see Don.
He was coming out of his room as I got to his room, and he broke open into this sweet toothless happy, just genuinely happy face, and we hugged, and I told him I had to tell him something.
We went to his bed, and I asked if I could sit there with him. He let me. I looked at all his radios, and the two big cardboard weather siren models he’d made out of old toilet roll cardboard, and I said, I want to tell you thank you, Don.
Well, you’ve given me something, and I want to give something back.
He scoped me out, and I said, no, Don, and I took out my hands, no, Don, I have nothing here to give you, but I need to tell you something. Is that OK? He nodded, excited, happy, so, I said,
You are the one in this whole place that I admire the most, Don. I am really proud to know you, to say I know that guy. And that is because, before anyone else, in this whole building, before anyone else knew we were in danger, you did. He nodded.
And what did you do with this knowledge, Don?
He didn’t know what to say. I asked him, did you go off into a daydream?
Did you keep it to yourself?
No. You did not. You got up, you got out, and , even if no one understood it, you said, “I need to talk to somebody now!” Before anybody else, Don. While they still thought they were safe, you knew different, and you did something about it. That is what a hero does.
And then, oh I have never seen such a face. He sort of crumpled into himself and leaned over and just fell into me. And we just sat there. In silence, just for a little bit.
I pulled him from me and got his eyes, not easy with him, and we held them and I told him, from my heart, thinking of everyone who shits on this guy and treats him so bad, Don, from now on, no matter what they say or how they say it,no matter what they do to you or what they take away from you, it doesn’t matter anymore. Do you see this? I just doesn’t matter what they say. You are special. You prove it. You are a protector. You are a hero.
We sat with that for a while, and then got up from his bed.
Walking to the nursing station, it felt just like when Marge and I reconnected, and I realized it was two equals walking down that street in Central City, on a Tuesday afternoon, not a student and master anymore. Equals. And we always had been.
It felt that way with Don, and of course he babbled and mumbled and talked in patterns I could translate, and as we walked, I knew then, because he told me, that he had been there waiting, all this time, for this night. He had been there knowing. And watching. And he had been there for me, right on time, leading the way to today, that day, the day he had been obsessing about for so long. Purposefully obsessing.
And then we got to the dutch door nurses station, and that sour little shit of an aide was there, and Arlynn, and Leisa, who is love itself, and Rhonda, and I knew that what had been private must become public.
I said, I have an announcement. And then I told them what I told Don. I looked into their eyes as I did, making it plain that I knew each of us had taken turns being thoughtless to Don.
I repeated to them what I had told Don, and that I think we all owe him thanks. And they all agreed, very honestly and sincerely, and it was good to see that Don was seen as something other than a pain in the ass obsessive, which he is, so much so, poor thing.
I slept like the dead that night, first time in weeks, and I spent the day in bed, creating and writing and connecting with friends.
I wrote this piece, most of it, that night, and in the morning, I sent it to my friend Nancy. I’m a prodigious writer, and much that I write is what the two of us are experiencing. It is a twin or deep family bond there. When I talk to her on the phone, she has vision, which I can see too, and I see things as she speaks. And I love to hear her speak.
She got the piece in fb messenger, and I got a call a couple minutes later. She wanted to talk to me.
It turns out, she’d posted on my wall last week, asking about the weather, innocently enough, and I had liked it, or not, I couldn’t remember. Quietly she told me that she was worried last week, genuinely worried for my safety last week, seeing storms, seeing tornadoes. And then she said, Kathy, when I posted that, I thought you were already dead.
This morning, amidst loving words and deeds, I had a moment. For just a short time, I felt what it was like to hold Bob. I wanted to explore it. I wanted to go into that place where I knew I was already dead. I wanted to really feel what I had done, whether I ran energy or not, just what I had done, how had acted.
I knew during the height of it, was told, understood, I was being wiped clean. All of it was gone. The history, the stories, the habits, all, just, gone. I saw the swirling grey wall again,themas and the eye, and I realized it was no little storm, at least, not for me.
Yesterday, I finally got out of bed and made it to the facility at 5. The supervisor was in a tizzy about a list of things I found highly disinteresting, and so I drifted off, plastic bag in my hand, telling her I’d be on 5 if she wanted to hear about what happened last night.
I’d bought a tea for Leisa, Bob and Don. I’ been sucking on one during the storm, and Bob especially expressed great interest in this drink of mine. So, I gave Leisa hers, and she hugged me, and let me go see my friends. She joined me, and we went outside and smoked. I told her some of this, and I cried, and she cried, and she told me, looking me in the eye, no matter how I feel is just beautiful, and it was ok to eel all of it around her.
She negotiated with her staff and we poured our friends their beverages. There was love all around that dining room. Leisa and I went into the nursing station, me ready to leave, after 45 minutes, and she said that she had to tell me about Bob.
She said, when she got on, it was the weirdest thing. Bob had seen her from across the room. He had gotten up and gone to her. She said he hugged me, but it was like when he saw me it was you he was seeing, or something. He hugged me tight and asked me how I was. And then he asked about you. She told him that I had gotten home safe, and she knew this because I had called the facility to tell them, something I just never ever do with anybody. He was relieved, she said, and then he told her “Kathy is my friend.”
We stood there, feeling so full, just so much love, and I said, you know, the way I know Bob is how I know you. He knows we are family. And friend, oh, Leisa, the way it is said between us, it’s a sacred word, I said, wondering if I’d gotten too preachy for her. She nodded and smiled, and said, friend means a lot.
I’ll let you decide whether I am insane or not. In my reality I am not insane. I am inspired, and I have my heart so wide open that I have come to find this is my most protected, safe state. I love, and I love, and I love, and if that means I can repel a tornado, done in the arms of my brother, as we wept an breathed, then, I’d say the metric might need some tweaking.
I hope this helped you. It has helped me.