Rage and Restraint

Thor and I have dined in a high-end restaurant, and he has gone to pay the bill.  I have chosen my food carefully to watch my intake, but still do not feel satisfied.  I look around and spot a dessert counter, with many cakes, pies, and sweet buns.  My husband is taking a while, and I am getting anxious.  On an impulse, I lunge for the cinnamon buns at the front of the counter, reaching across the cakes and pies, with no regard for social propriety.  I scoff the bun quickly, before anyone, especially my husband, can see me.  I needn’t worry.  He is nowhere in sight.  The room we were dining in is in the basement of the building, with a walkout patio.  Thor headed upstairs to the cashier’s desk.  Embarrassed by my actions, I decide to follow him, but I cannot see him.  I catch sight of him leaving by the front door.  Has he forgotten me?  I run to catch up with him and encounter two teenage boys, one of whom threatens to grab my breasts.  Angry with Thor for leaving without me, I am enraged by this young boy’s brazen behaviour.  “Do it and I’ll beat your head in,”  I warn him.  He makes the grab, and I retaliate by grasping one ear and twisting it, while simultaneously poking him in the eye with other.  I knee him in the groin, and as he goes down, I slam his head against the wall.  “That will teach you!”  I conclude.  I have caught my husband’s attention now, and we walk off together.

Restraint is obviously a theme in this dream: the ability to control my eating, and the need to control my anger.

Thor and I are in week four of Weight Watchers.  He has very successfully been following the plan and losing weight.  I am not faring as well.  It is frustrating, to say the least.

Dining out is the base of our problems.  I am vegetarian and Thor is meatatarian, and rather than cook two meals, it is just easier for us to dine out.  With only 26 points allowance in my day, that is a difficult task.  Last night, I had a veggie stir fry with the sauce on the side (8 points).  Thor, on the other hand, had a seafood linguine with garlic bread. (He has 45 points in the day.)  I went to bed hungry, while he had a midnight snack.  As I often do when watching my food intake, I got cranky.

I am proud of my husband, don’t get me wrong.  The changes he is making to his diet and daily routine are commendable.  I do, however; feel a bit like the woman in my dream:  left behind.

The two teenage boys in the dream are an interesting addition to this dilemma.  When I was a teenager, with new, but fully developed breasts, a boy did grab my breast as he passed me on the sidewalk one day.  I was so surprised that by the time I responded, he had fled.  Thus began a series of sexual harassments that continued well into my twenties.  In retrospect, it wasn’t until I had my third baby, and the weight stayed on that the unwanted advances stopped coming.  This is an aha moment.

Could the anger that I feel when dieting be related to inappropriate attention?  I clearly remember thinking, just yesterday, that the nice thing about being older is that you can be unattractive and get away with it.

I never felt attractive.  One of four girls, I thought of myself as the dumpy one.  I had reached full height in  elementary school, and filled out way ahead of my older sisters, earning the nicknames ‘Moose’ and ‘Linebacker’.  Whenever my sisters and I went anywhere together, everyone assumed I was the oldest, even though there were several years between us.  While they received endless attention for their beauty, I was the goofy looking one.  When I did bring boys home, I lost them once they caught sight of my siblings.

Despite my lack of self-esteem, or maybe because of it, I was always finding myself inappropriately propositioned.  Fathers of children I babysat, employers, boys I went to school with, and later colleagues, as well as friends of my then husband.  And, there was the rape.  I was targeted out of a whole gathering of schoolgirls.  I never understood it, but the more it happened, the angrier I became.  Occasionally, I did retaliate physically, but mostly I internalized it. “Boys will be boys,” my mother would say.  “It’s up to the woman to deter it.”  Like my mother, I learned to be a victim.

Why would I want to lose weight only to make myself vulnerable again, must be the question running through my subconscious.  No wonder I am cranky.  Being overweight is not desirable, but neither is being desirable, literally!   Maybe, I need to have a little talk with myself, and remind my inner young woman that I am a lot older now, and have learned to ward off unwanted advances, and protect myself.

Who knew losing weight was this complicated.

A little restraint please!

 

 

 

Accepting Success

My husband always tells me that I am failing my way through life with an A+.

It started when I returned to university to upgrade my degree.  I would sweat over every assignment, proclaiming uncertainty about the expectations and certainty that my efforts would fall short.  I would get the paper back with a mark in the nineties.

Despite my high marks, the insecurity persisted.  When I graduated from the Faculty of Education, I didn’t even notice that it was with distinction until my stepdaughter asked me what that meant.  Surprised, I responded:  “It probably means that I was the oldest.”

The assumption behind all this angst is that I am not capable, and that every task is designed to trip me up.  Of course, this is nonsense, and when I spell it out like that, my rational mind can see that it is.  Yet, somewhere inside me is an insecurity that my success is phony; that I am a fraud.

I am working on moving towards an easier approach to life.  I am trying to be consciously aware of how I complicate things with insecurity, and replace those thoughts with simplicity. I’m trying to take a step back before responding.  Reassessing a situation usually does reveal a simpler solution.

 

On Suffering

“All I need is to win the lottery,” Mae often proclaims.

“That’s not true,” I tell her.

“But if I had enough money, my problems would all be solved.”

“No.  If you had lots of money, you would still be schizophrenic.”

She takes this in and nods solemnly.  Then she laughs.  “You’re so funny.”

“I am studying the dictionary, though.  If I can get smarter then I’ll be better, don’t you think so?”  (Mae finished nursing school with 96%).

“Schizophrenia has nothing to do with intelligence, it’s a chemical imbalance.  You are smart already.”

The conversation is redundant.  We will revisit it many times.

Mae, like many people, just wants an end to her suffering.

As a student of alternative health care techniques, and a caregiver, I too have looked for answers to the riddle of why suffering exists in the world.  I have witnessed parents watching their infant die, and young children sitting at their dying mother’s bedside.  I have met those whose disease has debilitated them to a point of total dependency; and others whose lives have changed in an instant due to an accident or violence.  And I have met many, like Mae, who are born into suffering, with no hope for a cure.  Void of answers, I am only left with more questions.

What I have come away with, though, is a sense of awe for the spirit that drives each and everyone of these people.  In the midst of so much tragedy, I have encountered strength, willingness, compassion, and incredible resilience.

I don’t believe, as some do, that suffering is a choice; I believe it is inevitable.   And in some instances, I believe that suffering can open the doors for much discovery.

The Kingdom

The King sat at his favourite lookout pondering his life.  He rested his chin on the large gold ring that adorned his index finger and adjusted his ermine cloak around him, as a chill ran over him.  An omen?  he wondered.  He sighed.  What is the matter with me?  My queen loves me…well, at least when she’s not preoccupied with all the other commitments she makes.  Not many kings can say that.  

He looked out over the vast valley below him, and couldn’t help but feel pride that all this belonged to him.  A mist hung over the village, but it was early yet, and all that would soon dissipate and the sun would shine once again on his kingdom.

My son is off at University, bettering himself, his thoughts continued.  What more could one expect from a future King, even if he is forty?  I just wish he’d settle on something!  The King sighed again.  The chill came once more.  Maybe I’m coming down with something.  I’ll have to call the Royal Physician.

The mountains that surrounded his kingdom were now emerging from the fog,  He loved these mountains.  They were like old friends that never faltered:  strong and bold.  He could stare at their magnificence all day.

He continued to take inventory of his life.  My daughter is as a princess should be:  beautiful, articulate, kind;  I just wish she would come down from that tower!  Admittedly, he’d locked her there years ago, after that awful incidence with that man – and a peasant, too – but she wasn’t getting any younger, and, well……  He sighed again, looking heavenwards.  So much for one man to manage, God.  

At least my kingdom is at peace. The thought warmed him.  He loved his people.  He loved their industry, their loyalty, and above all, he loved it when they were all content.  It had been over thirteen years since they’d suffered any strife.  He didn’t want to think about those times.  Four years the battle had gone on, and while they won, they had also lost so much.  Ah, well, such is the price of war.  

The King shifted his position.  He was feeling it again:  the restlessness.  He hated this sensation; it made him feel as if he wasn’t in control, and he couldn’t abide that.  Two weeks ago he’d sent the Royal Page out on a mission to find something to cure this abomination, but the boy had not yet returned.  Blasted child!  the King thought to himself.  I should have sent a man. Or maybe a woman.  But who else could be trusted?

Wrestling with his thoughts, the King failed to notice that the sky had cleared and the valley was now in full view.  All was not calm.  There, in the middle of town, stood an eight-foot-tall dragon, breathing fire, and lashing his long spiky tail in a wide, destructive arc.  People were fleeing in droves, their cries filling the air.

At first, the King thought it was the cry of the morning birds he was hearing, but soon he recognized the sounds of panic.  Alert once more, he spotted the source of the problem.  What the…..?  “Guards!”  The King was up and running.

A call went out in the castle, and all available knights mounted their steeds in a race to save the kingdom.

But this was no ordinary dragon.  He moved with the agility of a trained martial artist:  eluding the knights lances, and scorching them as they passed.  Within the hour the streets had cleared, and no one dared approach the beast.  It looked as if the town was lost.

Then one lone figure stepped out from the shadows.  Bare legs and arms revealed the slender figure of a young woman.  Clad only in a deerskin tunic, her hair pulled back in tidy braids, she held what looked like a tree branch at her side.  She approached the dragon from the side, and all gasped as the dragon caught the young woman in his peripheral vision.  Ten feet away, she stopped and nodded slightly to the beast, holding her hand up, palm towards him, as if in greeting.

The beast groaned, but seemed to settle.

The woman spoke a few words that surely only the dragon could hear.  The dragon let out a howl, and the crowd screamed in response, but the young woman remained calm, gesturing to the crowd to stay back and be quiet.

She took another step.  The dragon shifted its weight, angling slightly towards her.  The crowd held its breath.  The King too.

Then the young woman did an extraordinary thing.  She sat down.

The dragon sat down.

She stretched out her legs, and leaned back on her arms, in a state of repose.

The dragon stretched his paws out before him, and laid his head on the ground before him.

The young woman then laid herself down and gently rolled over, closing in on the dragon.  To the amazement of all gathered there the dragon didn’t flinch, in fact, some would say later that the dragon itself, moved towards her, but the King was so excited by what was happening, that he didn’t see any of that.  He’d run off to the stables to get himself a horse.  He needed to meet this dragon-tamer, and now!

By the time the King caught up them, the young woman had mounted the back of the dragon, who was contentedly munching on the tree branch.

“Stop!”

The dragon and his rider blinked in unison, turning their heads to find the source of this command.  The woman whispered to the dragon and he stopped eating.  She stayed where she was.

“Your Majesty,”  she bowed her head out of courtesy.

“What is going on here?”

“I am Sheboygan, and this is my friend, the dragon.”

“Your friend!  Did you cause this destruction?”

“Oh no!”  protested Sheboygan.  “I have no desire to destroy your kingdom.  I noticed that the dragon was missing and I came in search of him.  That is all.”

“Explain yourself, young lady.”

“I am Sheboygan,”  she repeated with authority.  “I live beyond the woods, near the body of water over there.”  She pointed to the west.  “The dragon is my neighbour.  I know him to be peaceful and loving, but when I saw he was gone, I knew something must be wrong.  So I came in search of him.”

“If this dragon is peaceful, why did he just threaten my village?”

“He didn’t mean to, your Majesty.  He was only looking for food.”

“For food?  What does he eat, children?”

“No, not at all.  He is vegetarian.  He eats only the fruit and berries of a particular tree.  But sometime in the night, all those trees were cut down.  He must have been awfully hungry to show such anger here.”

The King started to say something, but found he was at a loss for words.  A vegetarian fire-breathing dragon?  Who’d ever heard of such a thing?  Was he dreaming?!

“I don’t understand. Who would cut down those alleged trees, and why?”

“You’ll have to look to your own people, King, to answer that question.”  And with that, dragon and rider ambled off.

The King, who didn’t like it when things happened without his knowing, called an immediate meeting of his advisors.  While the men were assembling, the King spotted his Page sneaking in through the a side door.

“Halt, there!  I’ve been looking for you.”

The Page looked exhausted.  His hair was all array, and bits of twigs and leaves clung to his tunic.

“What is this?”  the King demanded, pointing to a saw the young man was holding.  “What have you been up to?  Cutting down trees, perhaps?”

The young man couldn’t tell a lie, especially to his ruler.   Holding up the saw, he proclaimed: ” I was finding a cure for your restlessness, you Majesty.”

“Yes, yes I’d say!” remarked the King.  “Effectively so, and you almost caused me my kingdom.”

“Oh, no, Sire!  The dragon was harmless!  I swear!”

“Well, you certainly shook things up young man.  Now tell me, who was the young woman that saved the day?”

“Sheboygan?  She’s a friend of mine, Sire.  A very worthy young woman.”

“Worthy, indeed.  In fact, I’d say the two of you are just what this kingdom needs.  Clean yourself boy, and get some sleep.  I’ll be expecting yourself and your young maiden friend at supper this evening.  Now go!”

With that the King spun on his heels and strode into the council chambers where his advisers were gathered.  “Gentleman,” the King began, “today marks a time of change, and as with all change, there must be death before there can be rebirth.  While we have known peace in this kingdom for some time, we have also grown stagnant, and that can be a problem unto itself.  Today, in a time of real need, no one was able to rise to the occasion and defend this kingdom but one lone young woman.  None of our forces, and certainly none of you, were of help.  It took the energy and willingness of the young to make a difference.”

“But, your Majesty, the dragon was a formidable foe, even our best knights could not defeat him.  What were we to do?”

“The dragon appeared to be an insurmountable force, but you, like many of us, were fooled by appearances.  I pay you to see beyond appearances.  Your job is tell me what is really happening.  I have not felt at peace for sometime, and I now realize why :  I have been depending on men whose heads are in the sand, men who are not informed enough to give me the right advice when I need it.”

“But, your Grace…..”

“But nothing.  This dragon has lived on the fringe of our community for some time, yet none of you took the time to find about it.  A young woman did what none of you, and a legion of men could not!”  The King’s anger was rising, the veins in his neck popping as he raged.  “From this moment, you are all demoted!  I’ll let you know your new positions, when I’ve had time to think.”

Heads hung in shame throughout the room.  The men daren’t look at one another, knowing full well that what the King had said was true.  They had been lax.  They had wiled away their days with trivial activities, sated with complacency.  The King was right; they deserved to be disciplined.

“In the meantime, I have found myself two new advisers, and we shall be welcoming them at a feast tonight.  Busy yourself with the preparation, and make it fitting for a young woman and man of their nature.  Have the Royal Guest rooms prepared, and make arrangements for the young woman to be properly attired.”  Then on second thought, the King added:  “No, scratch that.  Let her come in the style she chooses.  Find appropriate entertainment.  Now be on your way.  I must advise the Queen.”

Solemnly, the group of men began to disperse.  They were not happy with the outcome, but they knew their King to be just.  In time; all in good time, they told themselves.

“Oh, and would someone please remind the Princess that the door to the Tower is no longer locked, and suggest that she might want to join us.”

* * * * * *

Part II – “The Valley”

Emptiness

Sue Bender, in her book Everyday Sacred, uses the symbolism of the bowl to depict the spiritual life.   She relates this image to Tibetan monks, who as part of their training must survive with begging bowls:  they must ask for what they need and make use of what they are given before they can beg for more.

Everyday Sacred literally fell off the shelf and into my arms one day, as I was reaching for a novel in the library.  It could not have appeared at a better time.  I was mesmerized by Bender’s words, and loved her analogy.  I could relate to the idea that we are bowls, or vessels for Spirit, and that whatever comes into our life must be consumed and processed before we can ask for more.  In this way, we make life sacred.

Shortly after discovering the works of Sue Bender, my marriage ended, leaving me shattered and scarred.  I prayed for a sign that everything would be okay.  Signs and omens surrounded me, and I felt comforted.  Then I got my new phone number.  I was disappointed that it had no obvious pattern to remember: 2695 were the last digits.  One day as I sat musing over how I was going to remember the number, I had a thought:  what did the numbers spell?- b-o-w-l.  Bowl!

Life had served me up a full helping of misery, and it would be a long time before I could empty it, but I came to understand that emptiness is what I needed before anything good could come my way.  As long as I hung on to anger, grief, or resentment, my bowl did not have room for anything else.  Empty was the goal.

 

 

(Image: www.hungrysouls.org)

Soul’s Guardian

“Mom, I don’t know how to say this, but…”  I was tucking my ten-year-old son into bed.

“Go ahead.”

“Well, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but you know how if there is a sale on at Eaton’s, you want to get there early.”

“Yes?”  I wasn’t sure where this conversation was going.

“You want to get there early because the best stuff gets picked over first, right?”

“I suppose so.”

“Well, no offense, but you’re not getting any younger.”

“What are you on about?”

“Maybe you need to get out there before all the good ones are picked over.”

“Are you saying I should start dating?”

He nodded solemnly.

“Well, I’ll give it some thought.”  It had been over six months since his father and I had separated, and dating was the furthest thing from my mind, but there was wisdom in those words.  Still shattered from the unexpected end of a seventeen year relationship, I coped by going to bed early every night, and staying away from people.  My son was probably right – avoiding life was not the answer – life was passing me by.

‘Obi-Wan Kenobe’, one of my friends called my son.  From an early age, he has had an uncanny wisdom, well beyond his years.  He’s my soul’s guardian.

(Image from: www.kidscreativechaos.com)

Wrestling With The Unknown

A dark shadowy figure passed the door of my office.  It moved on all fours and had a very feline shape, like a panther.  I followed it down the hallway and into the empty room at the end.

I knew this was no earthly creature, but I did not expect the force that hit me as I entered the room.  Doubled over in pain, my chest was drenched in sweat, and my head was reeling.   A foul odor filled the room, rendering me nauseous.  I stumbled to my knees, then collapsed on the floor.

“Mom?  I saw something that looked like a cat come this way.”  Marie had been working reception in the foyer.  I heard her just outside.

“Stay away!” the words came out gurgled, as if I was choking.

“Are you okay, Mom?”

“No!  Something’s attacking me!  Stay out!”

“What should I do?”  A good question, and I was wondering the very same thing, but the violence of the attack overwhelmed me and I couldn’t think straight.

“I just feel so sick!  Get a bucket.”

I’d never encountered anything like this before.  I was certain it was some type of demon, but what, I didn’t know.

“Throw the pail in here, but don’t come in,”  I advised my daughter.

“Mom, I’m scared.”

“Don’t be!  Whatever this is likes fear.  I’ll be okay.”  I only wish I felt as certain as I sounded.  I heaved into the bucket as the pain ripples through my midsection.  I felt like I was on fire.  What was this thing?

I tried to focus on my breathing and center myself, but the waves of nausea and the sheer physical pain made it almost impossible.  I was determined not to let this thing get the best of me.

Night was coming on and the only other person still in the building would be leaving soon.  I didn’t know how I was going to drive home.

“Get Robert,”  I called to my daughter.

I could see that Robert was alarmed when he saw me.

“I need to get home, Robert.  But I can’t get there in this state.  Can you take us?”

I don’t remember the ride home, but I do remember Robert’s helpless look as he left us in the driveway.  Inside, I left Marie to explain to her father as I closed myself away in the bedroom to battle it out.  I steeled myself for the fight, but it seemed the more determined I was the greater the force that hit me.  I wanted to unleash my growing rage on this unseen foe, but somehow I knew that would only add fuel to its fury.  The more I fought, the greater the suffering.  I was growing weaker by the minute.

Then I remembered a book I had read in my last year at university:  The Man Who Wrestled with God, by John Sandford  It was recommended by my religious studies teacher, and tells the story of Jacob, who is about to ascend the ladder to Heaven when he is tackled by an unseen opponent.  Jacob fights and fights, until he realizes that he is wrestling with God, and that the only thing to do is surrender.

I knew my only hope was in giving over to God.  I’d had a dream once, where God picked me up and cradled me in His hands.  I needed that now, so as I centered myself, I imagined that my mattress was the hand of God, and that with each breath I surrendered deeper and deeper into the hands of a loving force.  I imagined myself falling through the blackness that had threatened me, and landing in a place of comfort and love.

Love yourself, were the words I heard to guide me.  Love yourself just as you are. 

“I can’t,”  I wanted to cry out, but I knew the message was right.  I didn’t love myself.  The nausea washed over me again.  “Okay, okay,” I thought.  “I love myself.  I love myself.”  And suddenly, I realized that I could love myself.  That if I could see me through God’s eyes, I wouldn’t be so critical, but would behold myself with forgiveness and acceptance.  So for the first time in forever, I felt okay with me.  And as this new sensation dawned, the darkness receded, and with it the pain and vomiting.

The battle was over.

I had found calm in the eye of the storm, and it saved me.

Lifelines

The forest is thick with the smell of new leaves, tinged with the lingering winter musk.  The trees here stretch endlessly upwards, their trunks a testimony to the timelessness of the place.  Rays of warm sunlight reach downwards, creating pockets of warm glow.  The soft moss and dry earth beneath my feet cushion my steps.  Birdsong fills the air, adding to the aura of enchantment.  I come here to meditate.  This is my oasis:  a calm, nurturing retreat where I can find renewal.  I breathe deeply and allow all my senses to revel in the beauty.   A crackling of twigs alerts me to the presence of another.  A horse and rider come into my line of vision and stop.  The young man’s eyes meet mine, and there is a rush of recognition.  He is young, maybe mid twenties, with thick dark hair, and dark eyes.  I feel that I have known him many lifetimes, and that ours has been a relationship of deep and abiding love.  “I am coming back to you,” is all he says, and I feel my heart leap with joy. 

The unexpected vision and accompanying emotional surge forces me back to consciousness.  The meditation had been so deep and relaxing that it find it hard to shake off the drowsiness.  It was so real.  I open my eyes to find my friend, Sam looking at me.  “It’s a boy!”  I blurt out.  “You’re going to have a boy!”

I was right about the boy, but the message was not for my friend who was so desperately hoping for a child.  It was for me, who although I thought I was finished my childbearing, was about to discover myself pregnant again.  My dark haired, brown-eyed boy was born the next fall.

Mothers know that there is an unseen cord of consciousness that runs between them and their children.  It is first experienced when they wake up seconds before their sleeping baby.  Or maybe earlier, in the dream time.

Abuse of Power

Although I never met the man, I can imagine him as somehow mesmerizing, with a captivating smile, a soothing throaty voice, or sparkling dark eyes.  From all descriptions he is an average middle-aged man, slightly balding, and plump around the middle.  Without a doubt, he knows how to charm.

I first heard about him at a conference for healers.  A reputable woman was promoting his work as ground-breaking, and rooted both in science and spirituality.  His workshops carried a hefty price tag, but were reportedly worth the sacrifice.

I didn’t go.

“He’s very mysterious,”  people reported back to me.  “And very powerful.”

As always, I listened without commenting.  New Age workshops were popping up everywhere, each one proclaiming to offer the answer.  I liked to bide my time.

“He only works with women.”

My ears perked up.

“And only if you are chosen.”

Why is that?  I wondered.

One by one, I watched the women flock to him.  “He gets us,”  one woman explained.  “It’s like he can look inside and he knows exactly what each person needs.”

“He’s seeing my wife at three in the morning,” a distraught husband told me over the phone.  “What kind of therapist meets with clients at three in the morning?”  I was wondering the same thing.  “I feel like I’m losing her.”

I agreed to talk to his wife.

“He’s helping me cleanse myself of the past and all the bad relationships I’ve had.”  True enough, she’d had her share.  But why the middle of the night?  “It’s the time of the day when there are the least physical distractions and the psychic energy is stronger.”

Looked like red flags to me.

Then I met Kay.  Kay was young, and beautiful, and highly intelligent, but something wasn’t right.  She had enrolled in a therapeutic touch class, and while she seemed to be enjoying the course, I noticed she seemed agitated.  I pulled her aside to ask if she was okay.

“Yes.  The course is great and all.  It’s just……..”

“Kay, if you have concerns, talk to me.  It’s not my intention to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“Oh, no.  It’s not you.  Not at all.  It’s just that I’m not sure I should be taking this course.”

“Does it conflict with your beliefs and values?”

“No, no.  It makes so much sense.  It’s my mentor.  He doesn’t like us to study with anyone else.”

Why on earth not?  I must have looked dumbfounded.

“Eventually, obviously……but for now, he doesn’t want us jeopardizing the work we are doing.”

A realization was dawning on me.  I offered her the name that had come to mind.

“Yes, I work with him!  Do you know him?”

“I know of him.”

“He’s amazing, so powerful, and he’s helped me so much.  I just don’t know why I feel so guilty about taking a course like this.  It feels so right, so why am I scared?

“Explain to me why you shouldn’t.”

“It’s part of the process.  In the beginning, he requests that we set aside all doubt, and questions, and trust solely in him.  He’s helping us gain faith.”

And he control, I thought to myself.

The next time I encountered Kay, she was visibly shaken.   “Can we talk?”

Ushering her into a back room, I pulled up two chairs.

“I’m not sure whether he followed me or not?”

“Would he do that?”

“He knows everything.  I can’t get away.  I tried, but he found me.  He says there is nowhere I can escape him.  I am so afraid.  I don’t know what to do.”

“Kay, back up a bit and tell me how you met him.”

“A friend of mine was part of his inner circle.  He told her to bring me to him.  He said he could help.  I was having difficulties.  I thought it was worth a try.”

“Did he mention you by name?”

“No, but he knew she had a twenty-three year-old, blonde friend at the university who was going through a hard time.  My friend knew it had to be me right away.”

“No offense, Kay, but this is a university town, and the chance of anyone having a friend that fits your description is pretty good.”

I could see that my words had hit their mark.  “Oh my God.  You’re so right!  What a fool I was.”

“No.  You just wanted to believe there was an answer for you.  It felt right at the time.”

“What about all the other things?  Could they be made up to?  But, no, not possibly.  You have no idea.”  The look of terror reappeared.  “Oh my God, he’ll kill me for talking to you!”

“You are okay, Kay.  We’re safe.  What else did he tell you?”

“He can command nature to do his bidding.  He has spies everywhere.  One woman went canoeing, off by herself, in a remote area, and he sent a hawk to greet her. She saw it!”

“Also possibly a coincidence.”

Searching my face for some reassurance, Kay continued.  “He told me once that he sent a bear to follow me.  I saw it’s shadow.”  Before I could say anything she added,  “Do you think that was just power of suggestion?”

“I think that’s a real possibility.”

Kay leaned back in the chair and let out a long groan.  “Oh my God, I slept with him.”

“You what?”

“I slept with him, and he’s gross, well you know, old.”

“How did that happen?”

“He made me meet him in the middle of the night.  He had all these candles and incense burning.  The lights were dim, and there was meditation music playing in the background.  I felt like I was in an altered state.  I didn’t want to at first, but he convinced me that this would be good for my soul; that it would cleanse me of all my past sins.  How could I be so stupid!”

I’d heard enough.  This man was going too far.  With Kay’s permission I called a friend who worked with the Victim’s Unit through the local Police department.  Kay’s story was not new to her.

Kay moved away two weeks later.  Unfortunately,  she was not the only woman I would encounter who had fallen under this man’s spell.  All of them attractive, intelligent women, whose only sin was the desire for enlightenment.

 

 

 

Riding Without A Handlebar

I have retrieved my old bicycle and am happily pedaling down the street when I realize that the handlebars are missing.  How could I not have noticed that my handlebars are missing?  What have I been steering with?  On closer examination, I notice that there is a partial bar protruding where the handlebars used to be, which seemed to be working for me, but how precarious!  How did I expect to manoeuver over bumps without something solid to hang onto? 

The question that arises for me is not whether or not I can “surf” the chaos – I know that I can – but how does someone raised in a pattern of chaos and dysfunction, learn to ride the calm of normalcy?

I am strong in the face of adversity, but not so strong when things are going well.  There is an underlying anxiety, or nervousness that something is not right, or just around the corner.  I would love to be able to embrace the joy of life, without fear of its instability.

The bike in my dream is reminiscent of the one I received for my ninth birthday.  It had a big banana seat, and long looping handlebars, that rose up above the front tire, in a sweeping ‘u’.  My first wheels of independence, I rode that bike everywhere, confident that I could outride anyone in the neighbourhood.   I still have visions of myself leading a pack of riders down some of our best hills.  Such a feeling of freedom!

In those days, when my handlebars were intact, I was confident of my abilities.  I had a strong sense of purpose, and felt ready to face the challenges ahead of me.  I had a vision.

According to the dream, I gave that bicycle away at some point, and have only just now retrieved it, a little worse for wear.  Amazingly, it still fits me.  The tires are intact; and the seat supportive, but the big sweeping ‘you’ is missing.  So, it is.  Life’s bumps, and times where I no longer had ownership, have eroded that very mechanism that helped me navigate.

I don’t want to be nine again, but I would like to regain the momentum that allowed me to climb those steep hills and soar down those hills, fearless, impassioned, and in the moment: free.

If this bike is going to work for me, I’ll need something new to hang onto.  Something more conservative and practical.  Something that gives me stability and control, and supports me when choosing a direction.