My dear step-father, Joseph, passed away on June 3rd of a long-term illness. You will find his picture in the photo section at the bottom of my blog. In memory of Joe, I am posting “The Garden,” a poem I had written under my married name. This poem was first published in our family memoir, For the Time Being (Authorhouse, 2007).
Faithfully yours,
Mandy Berlin
*****
THE GARDEN
You found me crying in the garden for my sweet one who went away
His spirit's rising on the wind now, to greet the newness of the Day.
His sadness drops away like petals falling on a sparrow's nest
His joy is in the little creatures I hold so dearly to my breast.
His laughter's in the morning sunshine that lights my path along the way
His heart is hiding in the wildflowers I gather tenderly today.
His soul is searching for the New World, a world I have as yet to see
May his spirit find refreshment in some sweet river flowing free.
May the dove of peace alight now, on his shoulder on the way
May he pick the fruit of New Life to give him nourishment each day.
May he find his truest freedom in the World that lies beyond
And may his spirit lie in peace now until we meet again, at Dawn.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Sunday, May 29, 2011
BOOK "FLIES" OFF SHELF!
A Note from the Author: long after the bizarre "book-flying" phenomenon occurred, I performed a proper statistical analysis of this real event with amazing results, i.e., way beyond statistical significance! Although the numbers have not been included here in my blog, the statistical analysis, results, interpretation, and review of this 5/8 phenomenon will be included in my upcoming book, The Hope and the Knowing. I promise!
Meanwhile, I hope you enjoy the story, below, upon which the analysis was based.
Yours very truly,
Mandy Berlin
Writer and Statistical Consultant of 24 years
Journal Entry
Saturday 05/08/2004
Around 4:00 p.m.
I had such success with my last meditation that I decided to do it again. Better not wait too long, I thought, or I might lose some je ne c’est qua – whatever I’d already learned how to do. So I returned to Sylvia’s CD as discussed in my May 1st entry. Based on Ms. Browne’s guidelines, I decided to use my meditation time to find out what I could, or perhaps should be doing with my life right now.
But first, to underscore the upshot of today’s incredible event so it makes sense to the least and most circumspect alike, I must first backtrack and tell you a bit about my lifelong situation.
As a youngster, my IQ tests revealed above average ability in the Mechanical Domain. In spite of that, I must say that I have no experience with anything of a mechanical nature. In fact, it is probably closer to the truth to say that I have no desire to work on anything mechanical like changing an oil filter or even installing kitchen drawer handles. That is, I could do it, but would I? Probably not.
Zero patience, you see.
I admit one of the few mechanical things I’ve taken any time to do is to pummel nails into walls. I enjoy hanging pictures so, out of necessity, had to learn how to wield a hammer. Such as it goes…. I won’t tell you what Max had to say about my veteran hammering skills.
Taking into account this factor alone, I knew I had married the complementary man for me – the one and only Max Blau – a guy who liked puttering around the house, repairing cars, troubleshooting computer systems, fixing electronic equipment… you get the picture. To beat all, Max whistled while he worked. Maybe I liked that most of all. And when you consider his intellect and a bunch of the other traits he possessed, well it didn’t take long for this girl to fall in love.
Perhaps you can see that there were other losses that accompanied the greatest loss of all – the loss of my dear friend and husband.
Now, to add insult to inconceivable injury, this woman who is admittedly all thumbs, owns a home she is unprepared to maintain. Common widow’s lament? I do believe, though it was probably a more frequent cry in my mother’s day. As a group, the women of today are probably more proficient at repairing almost any broken contraption they encounter… cars, computers, perhaps even cranes. (Admittedly though, that would scare me to death!)
Now I find myself just “getting by” when it comes to doing anything mechanical. Sure, I change light bulbs and last month I broke down and installed a new air filter. I even did some patch painting. Hey, really something there. But when the toilet broke, well, that’s when I said, “Okay, time to find that handyman coupon in the kitchen drawer...”
Of course I used it, with no compunction at all.
Well, after hearing this pitiful bit of history, you might think today’s event is not that big a deal. But I will tell you this, it freaked me out. Even as I go back and edit my entry, I tell you:
I am still freaked!
Consider:
I’m able to offer no natural nor scientific explanation for what happened at about four in the afternoon. I was sitting on the sofa, going into my meditation, breathing in and out, and following Ms. Browne’s instructions. Before long, I drifted into a kind of meditative stupor – that wonderful, harmonious state of relaxation and bliss. Then, several minutes later, with Sylvia’s promptings, I popped my intended question: I’d like to know what I ought to be doing with my life right now – what should I focus on?
Thoughts and images swirled around in my head – perhaps I’ll go to a day spa, or even get a new job, or write another book, or travel to England or Egypt… Eyes closed, feeling relaxed and free, I continued with the deep-breathing process.
Yet, never in my life did I expect to get a response so quickly… so outrageously.
*****
No more than about ten seconds after I pose my question, I begin to hear just audible noises rising up in the background. At first, I think the sounds are coming from Sylvia’s recording. I feel composed, in control, breathing in and out as images of the pyramids float around in my head….
Then, without warning, comes a long, low series of rumbles that build into a crescendo, like a fine drum roll gone wild. Out of the blue, I hear it TRIP, THUD and POP into a thunderous BOOM!!!! Chills whisk at the back of my neck like icy fingers. “It’s in the dining room!” I scream. Jumping up, I run like a fool… no place to go… nowhere to hide. “What am I doing? I have no clue!”
Still, curiosity soon gains momentum like a colossal cat sitting on a fencepost on a moonlit night… overshadowing all my fears. Nose pressed up against the front door, I whip around and storm like a half-crazed sprinter into the dining room.
Skidding on slick ceramic, I stop short at last.
“Whut the heck?” For there, in the middle of my dining room floor “sits” a book long since abandoned. No, the tome is not “setting” on the floor, it’s “sitting” there as if it owns the property, as if it’s saying: Now that I have your undivided attention, Madam ~~ TAKE A GOOD LOOK AT ME !
I stand speechless, rapt in disbelief as an awesome reality becomes apparent. For, in less time than you can say whiz-bang, I know that this book did not just “fall off” the shelf.
Humor me. Allow me to explain how I know this and to reveal what it implies.
I had never read the book that is “staring up” at me from its Machiavellian place on the floor. But I do remember that about seven or eight years ago, Max read quite a bit of it. He said he found it very practical for his work and hobbies as well. Regardless, I never even looked at the book, except to check out the Table of Contents. And after reviewing that, well, I had no desire to read it at all. So I dusted it off and put it on the bottom shelf. “For future reference,” I said.
And I forgot all about it.
Now I see that the books on the bottom shelf are, of course, tilting into the slot where I’d placed the forgotten volume so long ago. And, as I move and breathe, I realize the book was ejected by force – by some energy that caused the popping and booming sounds as the book “flew” off the shelf. You see, I found it in the middle of the dining room floor, over three and a half ceramic tiles away from the bookcase!
I surmised that if the book had simply “fallen” off the bottom shelf, which is three inches from the floor, it would have landed near the bookcase, i.e., closer to the empty slot. But the book did not land anywhere near the shelf. In fact, this tome appears to have ”flown” across the room, after having been expelled from the bookcase by some inexorable force – a force powerful enough to generate all the weird and wacky noises I heard from the time of the rumble until the book hit the tile floor!
One thing I can say for sure: no earthquake, tremor, thunderstorm, tidal wave, monsoon, or automobile accident occurred anywhere near my home today, and my cats were sunning themselves in the back bedroom at the time. That is, no creature nor human (not even me) had been anywhere near my dining room when the book flew off the shelf. I should qualify that by saying: “… no ‘one’ or ‘thing’ that I was able to detect in a visible way.”
So, what is the name of this dilapidated old book?
How to Fix Damn Near Everything *
I just stood there, stunned, afraid to pick it up. Nevertheless, I soon heard a voice, the one in my head: makes sense… of course… my God. And, as the title of the book registered in my brain, I did the only thing any rational human being could do. I got down on the floor and doubled up, tears of laughter streaming down my cheeks.
Never did I believe what Max used to say when something mystifyingly funny would happen. “Mandy, God is a joker,” he’d cry, sometimes with a little tear of joy in his eye. Though I’d often laugh with him because of his delight and passion for the weird and wonderful, I held no conceivable archetype of my own.
I just didn’t believe it.
Until now.
*****
* Franklin Peterson, How to Fix Damn Near Everything (New York: Wings Books, 1977).
Meanwhile, I hope you enjoy the story, below, upon which the analysis was based.
Yours very truly,
Mandy Berlin
Writer and Statistical Consultant of 24 years
Journal Entry
Saturday 05/08/2004
Around 4:00 p.m.
I had such success with my last meditation that I decided to do it again. Better not wait too long, I thought, or I might lose some je ne c’est qua – whatever I’d already learned how to do. So I returned to Sylvia’s CD as discussed in my May 1st entry. Based on Ms. Browne’s guidelines, I decided to use my meditation time to find out what I could, or perhaps should be doing with my life right now.
But first, to underscore the upshot of today’s incredible event so it makes sense to the least and most circumspect alike, I must first backtrack and tell you a bit about my lifelong situation.
As a youngster, my IQ tests revealed above average ability in the Mechanical Domain. In spite of that, I must say that I have no experience with anything of a mechanical nature. In fact, it is probably closer to the truth to say that I have no desire to work on anything mechanical like changing an oil filter or even installing kitchen drawer handles. That is, I could do it, but would I? Probably not.
Zero patience, you see.
I admit one of the few mechanical things I’ve taken any time to do is to pummel nails into walls. I enjoy hanging pictures so, out of necessity, had to learn how to wield a hammer. Such as it goes…. I won’t tell you what Max had to say about my veteran hammering skills.
Taking into account this factor alone, I knew I had married the complementary man for me – the one and only Max Blau – a guy who liked puttering around the house, repairing cars, troubleshooting computer systems, fixing electronic equipment… you get the picture. To beat all, Max whistled while he worked. Maybe I liked that most of all. And when you consider his intellect and a bunch of the other traits he possessed, well it didn’t take long for this girl to fall in love.
Perhaps you can see that there were other losses that accompanied the greatest loss of all – the loss of my dear friend and husband.
Now, to add insult to inconceivable injury, this woman who is admittedly all thumbs, owns a home she is unprepared to maintain. Common widow’s lament? I do believe, though it was probably a more frequent cry in my mother’s day. As a group, the women of today are probably more proficient at repairing almost any broken contraption they encounter… cars, computers, perhaps even cranes. (Admittedly though, that would scare me to death!)
Now I find myself just “getting by” when it comes to doing anything mechanical. Sure, I change light bulbs and last month I broke down and installed a new air filter. I even did some patch painting. Hey, really something there. But when the toilet broke, well, that’s when I said, “Okay, time to find that handyman coupon in the kitchen drawer...”
Of course I used it, with no compunction at all.
Well, after hearing this pitiful bit of history, you might think today’s event is not that big a deal. But I will tell you this, it freaked me out. Even as I go back and edit my entry, I tell you:
I am still freaked!
Consider:
I’m able to offer no natural nor scientific explanation for what happened at about four in the afternoon. I was sitting on the sofa, going into my meditation, breathing in and out, and following Ms. Browne’s instructions. Before long, I drifted into a kind of meditative stupor – that wonderful, harmonious state of relaxation and bliss. Then, several minutes later, with Sylvia’s promptings, I popped my intended question: I’d like to know what I ought to be doing with my life right now – what should I focus on?
Thoughts and images swirled around in my head – perhaps I’ll go to a day spa, or even get a new job, or write another book, or travel to England or Egypt… Eyes closed, feeling relaxed and free, I continued with the deep-breathing process.
Yet, never in my life did I expect to get a response so quickly… so outrageously.
*****
No more than about ten seconds after I pose my question, I begin to hear just audible noises rising up in the background. At first, I think the sounds are coming from Sylvia’s recording. I feel composed, in control, breathing in and out as images of the pyramids float around in my head….
Then, without warning, comes a long, low series of rumbles that build into a crescendo, like a fine drum roll gone wild. Out of the blue, I hear it TRIP, THUD and POP into a thunderous BOOM!!!! Chills whisk at the back of my neck like icy fingers. “It’s in the dining room!” I scream. Jumping up, I run like a fool… no place to go… nowhere to hide. “What am I doing? I have no clue!”
Still, curiosity soon gains momentum like a colossal cat sitting on a fencepost on a moonlit night… overshadowing all my fears. Nose pressed up against the front door, I whip around and storm like a half-crazed sprinter into the dining room.
Skidding on slick ceramic, I stop short at last.
“Whut the heck?” For there, in the middle of my dining room floor “sits” a book long since abandoned. No, the tome is not “setting” on the floor, it’s “sitting” there as if it owns the property, as if it’s saying: Now that I have your undivided attention, Madam ~~ TAKE A GOOD LOOK AT ME !
I stand speechless, rapt in disbelief as an awesome reality becomes apparent. For, in less time than you can say whiz-bang, I know that this book did not just “fall off” the shelf.
Humor me. Allow me to explain how I know this and to reveal what it implies.
I had never read the book that is “staring up” at me from its Machiavellian place on the floor. But I do remember that about seven or eight years ago, Max read quite a bit of it. He said he found it very practical for his work and hobbies as well. Regardless, I never even looked at the book, except to check out the Table of Contents. And after reviewing that, well, I had no desire to read it at all. So I dusted it off and put it on the bottom shelf. “For future reference,” I said.
And I forgot all about it.
Now I see that the books on the bottom shelf are, of course, tilting into the slot where I’d placed the forgotten volume so long ago. And, as I move and breathe, I realize the book was ejected by force – by some energy that caused the popping and booming sounds as the book “flew” off the shelf. You see, I found it in the middle of the dining room floor, over three and a half ceramic tiles away from the bookcase!
I surmised that if the book had simply “fallen” off the bottom shelf, which is three inches from the floor, it would have landed near the bookcase, i.e., closer to the empty slot. But the book did not land anywhere near the shelf. In fact, this tome appears to have ”flown” across the room, after having been expelled from the bookcase by some inexorable force – a force powerful enough to generate all the weird and wacky noises I heard from the time of the rumble until the book hit the tile floor!
One thing I can say for sure: no earthquake, tremor, thunderstorm, tidal wave, monsoon, or automobile accident occurred anywhere near my home today, and my cats were sunning themselves in the back bedroom at the time. That is, no creature nor human (not even me) had been anywhere near my dining room when the book flew off the shelf. I should qualify that by saying: “… no ‘one’ or ‘thing’ that I was able to detect in a visible way.”
So, what is the name of this dilapidated old book?
How to Fix Damn Near Everything *
I just stood there, stunned, afraid to pick it up. Nevertheless, I soon heard a voice, the one in my head: makes sense… of course… my God. And, as the title of the book registered in my brain, I did the only thing any rational human being could do. I got down on the floor and doubled up, tears of laughter streaming down my cheeks.
Never did I believe what Max used to say when something mystifyingly funny would happen. “Mandy, God is a joker,” he’d cry, sometimes with a little tear of joy in his eye. Though I’d often laugh with him because of his delight and passion for the weird and wonderful, I held no conceivable archetype of my own.
I just didn’t believe it.
Until now.
*****
* Franklin Peterson, How to Fix Damn Near Everything (New York: Wings Books, 1977).
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
CHARLEMAGNE, SPIRIT GUIDE
Journal Entry
Saturday, 05/01/04
Around 4 p.m.
I can’t seem to recall the date this wonderful event occurred, but I believe it was on or around May 1st. I know it happened at about four o’clock because I usually meditate around that time of day, at least when I’m home. I’d been meditating a lot the past month and plan to continue with this practice. The deep breathing clears my mind, tends to alleviate grief, and in consequence, helps me sleep. Because of a health issue, I did some research and learned that meditation is a great way to retain the health we have or to return an ailing body, mind and spirit to healing mode.
Mandy’s motto: an ounce of prevention is worth a shot. So I ordered more meditation CDs; so happy to find they arrived on time for the weekend.
Well, after doing the Saturday chores, I glanced down at the mystifying stack of disks I’d arranged on the end table. Hmmm, I thought, let’s try this one, “Spirit Guide Meditation” by Sylvia Browne. I’ve never attempted to contact a spirit guide,” I said to Tiggi, my tiger-striped confidante. “So what have I got to lose?”
“Maybe I’ll learn something!” Swiftly, Tiggi’s tail shot up and curled in approval.
*****
So I sit up straight on the sofa and attempt to keep my feet flat on the floor. Soon, with Ms. Browne’s recorded guidance, I slip into the deep-breathing process of meditation and begin to feel pretty relaxed. Sylvia then calls to mind several pathways that I’m now visualizing in my mind’s eye: a lovely field, a gazebo, and so on.
Before long, I’m slipping away and I hear her say that it is time to make my request.
So I clear my throat. “Okay, here goes….”
I say it aloud with confidence. “What is the name of my spirit guide?” For some reason, I believe I will have to wait awhile. Not so….
For truly, no more than a few seconds elapse when I am thunderstruck to find the colors shifting in my field of view. Waves of violet, green and gold surge before my closed eyes. Then, at once, I hear a gentle voice as clear as the crystal chimes ringing on my patio! There is no mistaking his name:
“Charlemagne!” he says.
*****
Please note: During my meditation, I learned that Charlemagne is my spirit guide. In addition, I received some more interesting information: Charlemagne is a spirit entity not to be confused with Charles the Great, the Frankish king of old. At the end of this session, I became infused with the knowledge that my spirit guide and King Charles are not related in any way.
Saturday, 05/01/04
Around 4 p.m.
I can’t seem to recall the date this wonderful event occurred, but I believe it was on or around May 1st. I know it happened at about four o’clock because I usually meditate around that time of day, at least when I’m home. I’d been meditating a lot the past month and plan to continue with this practice. The deep breathing clears my mind, tends to alleviate grief, and in consequence, helps me sleep. Because of a health issue, I did some research and learned that meditation is a great way to retain the health we have or to return an ailing body, mind and spirit to healing mode.
Mandy’s motto: an ounce of prevention is worth a shot. So I ordered more meditation CDs; so happy to find they arrived on time for the weekend.
Well, after doing the Saturday chores, I glanced down at the mystifying stack of disks I’d arranged on the end table. Hmmm, I thought, let’s try this one, “Spirit Guide Meditation” by Sylvia Browne. I’ve never attempted to contact a spirit guide,” I said to Tiggi, my tiger-striped confidante. “So what have I got to lose?”
“Maybe I’ll learn something!” Swiftly, Tiggi’s tail shot up and curled in approval.
*****
So I sit up straight on the sofa and attempt to keep my feet flat on the floor. Soon, with Ms. Browne’s recorded guidance, I slip into the deep-breathing process of meditation and begin to feel pretty relaxed. Sylvia then calls to mind several pathways that I’m now visualizing in my mind’s eye: a lovely field, a gazebo, and so on.
Before long, I’m slipping away and I hear her say that it is time to make my request.
So I clear my throat. “Okay, here goes….”
I say it aloud with confidence. “What is the name of my spirit guide?” For some reason, I believe I will have to wait awhile. Not so….
For truly, no more than a few seconds elapse when I am thunderstruck to find the colors shifting in my field of view. Waves of violet, green and gold surge before my closed eyes. Then, at once, I hear a gentle voice as clear as the crystal chimes ringing on my patio! There is no mistaking his name:
“Charlemagne!” he says.
*****
Please note: During my meditation, I learned that Charlemagne is my spirit guide. In addition, I received some more interesting information: Charlemagne is a spirit entity not to be confused with Charles the Great, the Frankish king of old. At the end of this session, I became infused with the knowledge that my spirit guide and King Charles are not related in any way.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Saturday, March 26, 2011
SUPERMOON AND THE UNLIKELY TRIAD
Taking a break from my 2004 journal entries, I stop to pay homage to the Supermoon, at its peak (in terms of perigee and syzygy) on March 19th. Then, the unexpected….
Saturday 3/19/11
10:17 p.m.
I’m gazing at the aptly named “Supermoon” from my dining room window on the east end of the house. Its wide, hazy ring holds such a mystical quality my breath catches in my throat.
Captured, at last I shout, “The moon is so close to me, Max!”
And, in less than a twinkling, I “hear” the words, As am I….
I turn as if I might actually find the face of the one I knew so well, all lit up in “moonglow.” But all I find is Tiggi, curled up in the wicker chair behind me. Now she’s bleating like a newborn goat.
“Oh sweetie, of course you are important to me, don’t you know?” I pick her up as wisps of fur tickle my mouth and nose. Blowing it away, I stroke her behind the ears and a familiar verse begins to echo through the nooks and crannies of my brain.
What was it?
Oh yes…
… a poem I’d written not long after Max had left our earthly plane.
Unlikely Triad
The moon is my connection
as fading summer's eve mystifies
The moon holds my reflection --
in shallow pools of silt, I see the eye
While autumnal gatherings ensue,
I drift by scattered leaves to find the muse.
The moon is my redemption,
though drear the winter days without your sigh
The moon holds my attention
as vagrant thoughts and melodies arise
Until the spring's renewal sets them free,
the moon is my connection with Thee.
Saturday 3/19/11
10:17 p.m.
I’m gazing at the aptly named “Supermoon” from my dining room window on the east end of the house. Its wide, hazy ring holds such a mystical quality my breath catches in my throat.
Captured, at last I shout, “The moon is so close to me, Max!”
And, in less than a twinkling, I “hear” the words, As am I….
I turn as if I might actually find the face of the one I knew so well, all lit up in “moonglow.” But all I find is Tiggi, curled up in the wicker chair behind me. Now she’s bleating like a newborn goat.
“Oh sweetie, of course you are important to me, don’t you know?” I pick her up as wisps of fur tickle my mouth and nose. Blowing it away, I stroke her behind the ears and a familiar verse begins to echo through the nooks and crannies of my brain.
What was it?
Oh yes…
… a poem I’d written not long after Max had left our earthly plane.
Unlikely Triad
The moon is my connection
as fading summer's eve mystifies
The moon holds my reflection --
in shallow pools of silt, I see the eye
While autumnal gatherings ensue,
I drift by scattered leaves to find the muse.
The moon is my redemption,
though drear the winter days without your sigh
The moon holds my attention
as vagrant thoughts and melodies arise
Until the spring's renewal sets them free,
the moon is my connection with Thee.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Winking Eye and Untangled Necklace
Journal Entry
Friday 02/27/2004
Around 7:00 a.m.
Half asleep, I found a pixel-like eye “winking” at me. Strange, I’ve never seen anything like it – an eye winking while my eyes are closed. What’s this about?
Even so, my mind is drifting and I begin to wonder if one eye winks or if it actually blinks.*
Suddenly, I open my eyes and look around. Oh, it’s too early in the morning for this.
“After all, it’s Friday, and I have to go to work. So let’s get on with it.”
After some toast and a shot of café au lait, I return to the knots in the necklace I’d planned to wear today. Due to another riotous week at the office, my eyelids had begun to “clamp shut” way early the night before. And as I continued to work on the knotty (naughty) necklace, my head began to bob like a buoy lost at sea. Thus, it wasn’t long before Magoo tossed the wicked chain on the coffee table. “Ach, no luck there.”
Oh well, I’ll try again tomorrow.
*****
So I put my mug down on the coffee table and pick up the necklace, only to find something startling if not downright impossible: for the chain is smooth. But soon I feel a lump… the one in my throat as I say to the walls, “Wow, all the knots are gone.”
This is just plain weird. Before I went to bed last night, I was sure the chain had several tangles in it because, despite the ensuing delirium, I struggled for almost an hour to remove them… to no avail. Sure I was frustrated, I couldn’t even get one knot out!
Now beyond baffled, I turn the necklace around in my hands and start to wonder: Could those little knots have come undone as I tossed the chain on the table?
Well, I suppose one tangle might have worked its way out, but several?
Nah, no way. Flopping down on the sofa, I sigh remembering how I used to leave my jewelry for Max – right there on the coffee table. He had a knack for getting the kinks out of almost anything. In fact, he just seemed to enjoy the challenge of fixing things and would have most any kinky piece ready in a snap.
Well, we must have been a match of sorts because I was always finding things for him to fix… week after week. Yet, he never seemed to mind.
Max….
Hey guy, I hope my smiles said something about how I felt when you fixed my jewelry. But just in case, I want to say thanks, hon… not only for being so adept at repairs, but because you never seemed to lose your enthusiasm in doing things for me… year after year… after year.
_____
*Reminds me of the “sound of one hand clapping.” Does one eye wink or does it blink? I leave this madcap question for the reader to sort out.
Friday 02/27/2004
Around 7:00 a.m.
Half asleep, I found a pixel-like eye “winking” at me. Strange, I’ve never seen anything like it – an eye winking while my eyes are closed. What’s this about?
Even so, my mind is drifting and I begin to wonder if one eye winks or if it actually blinks.*
Suddenly, I open my eyes and look around. Oh, it’s too early in the morning for this.
“After all, it’s Friday, and I have to go to work. So let’s get on with it.”
After some toast and a shot of café au lait, I return to the knots in the necklace I’d planned to wear today. Due to another riotous week at the office, my eyelids had begun to “clamp shut” way early the night before. And as I continued to work on the knotty (naughty) necklace, my head began to bob like a buoy lost at sea. Thus, it wasn’t long before Magoo tossed the wicked chain on the coffee table. “Ach, no luck there.”
Oh well, I’ll try again tomorrow.
*****
So I put my mug down on the coffee table and pick up the necklace, only to find something startling if not downright impossible: for the chain is smooth. But soon I feel a lump… the one in my throat as I say to the walls, “Wow, all the knots are gone.”
This is just plain weird. Before I went to bed last night, I was sure the chain had several tangles in it because, despite the ensuing delirium, I struggled for almost an hour to remove them… to no avail. Sure I was frustrated, I couldn’t even get one knot out!
Now beyond baffled, I turn the necklace around in my hands and start to wonder: Could those little knots have come undone as I tossed the chain on the table?
Well, I suppose one tangle might have worked its way out, but several?
Nah, no way. Flopping down on the sofa, I sigh remembering how I used to leave my jewelry for Max – right there on the coffee table. He had a knack for getting the kinks out of almost anything. In fact, he just seemed to enjoy the challenge of fixing things and would have most any kinky piece ready in a snap.
Well, we must have been a match of sorts because I was always finding things for him to fix… week after week. Yet, he never seemed to mind.
Max….
Hey guy, I hope my smiles said something about how I felt when you fixed my jewelry. But just in case, I want to say thanks, hon… not only for being so adept at repairs, but because you never seemed to lose your enthusiasm in doing things for me… year after year… after year.
_____
*Reminds me of the “sound of one hand clapping.” Does one eye wink or does it blink? I leave this madcap question for the reader to sort out.
Friday, March 4, 2011
Max "Curls Up" with Mandy
Journal Entry
01/xx/2004
I labeled this journal entry “01/xx” because, when so many wild and curious events began to take place, I hadn’t been keeping a record of everything. I do remember, though, that when the following event happened, I’d been meditating a lot – praying for peace, fortitude, knowledge and understanding.
And so, right around this time, I’m lying on the sofa when out of the blue, I get the sense that my husband, now a disembodied spirit, is curling up around me. I am barely awake. Even so, I’m able to discern powerful thought-forms and emotions surging toward me in waves. I doubt this will make much sense to anyone, but this is the only way I can describe it: I can hardly hear Max’s voice as if it is light years away, yet I distinctly hear him cry out, “M-a-n-d-y, I love you! Mandy, I love you!”
Then, without forethought and certainly without any effort, I find myself screaming, “Max, Max! I love you too!”
“Where are you? I mean, I feel you, but where are you?”
Then, I hear him say, “Mandy...” but I am unable to hear the rest of his words. Like the blips from a bad radio signal, his sound simply fades into a hum… then nothing. And as his voice drifts away, so does his being.
Still, I do not feel alone or empty, and I glide into a bottomless sleep.
*****
These incredibly heartfelt, if not impassioned moments happened about four or five times over a three-week period. Nevertheless, I am at a loss because I cannot fully comprehend what took place. But in light of all that has happened since December of 2003, I decided to try to capture and make note of these beautifully compelling thoughts and feelings coming through to me. Sometimes the forms arrive as symbols and visual patterns, sometimes as emotions, and other times as words of the English language – all having Max’s unique, resonant quality.
Regardless, my words do not and never will do justice to these overpowering experiences.
*****
Post Script
As the receiver and object of the above thoughts and feelings (in essence, a part and parcel of the not-so-scientific study at hand), I am unable to verify what I have seen or heard. Nevertheless, I do not believe these visions, sounds and sentiments are coming from me, i.e., solely from my mind. In general, this puts me into the dubious category of “object” of the event in question.
Is Max, then, the subject? It would seem so. However, some would say that I am the subject and object as well, i.e., the only “creature” playing a part in the entire scenario. Apart from any commentary at large, I find that as these sounds, sights and sentiments arrive in my field of consciousness, they appear to be extraneous to my being. They are “flying” toward me in what I can only describe as shock waves, soft yet loud – another contradiction – at least on the surface. These waves are filled with an intense energy (or perhaps a consciousness) of their own.
Forgive me. It is difficult to talk about these notions in any humanly intelligible way, but I do hope you will bear with me. It is my best effort at explaining such awe-inspiring yet incomprehensible encounters.
01/xx/2004
I labeled this journal entry “01/xx” because, when so many wild and curious events began to take place, I hadn’t been keeping a record of everything. I do remember, though, that when the following event happened, I’d been meditating a lot – praying for peace, fortitude, knowledge and understanding.
And so, right around this time, I’m lying on the sofa when out of the blue, I get the sense that my husband, now a disembodied spirit, is curling up around me. I am barely awake. Even so, I’m able to discern powerful thought-forms and emotions surging toward me in waves. I doubt this will make much sense to anyone, but this is the only way I can describe it: I can hardly hear Max’s voice as if it is light years away, yet I distinctly hear him cry out, “M-a-n-d-y, I love you! Mandy, I love you!”
Then, without forethought and certainly without any effort, I find myself screaming, “Max, Max! I love you too!”
“Where are you? I mean, I feel you, but where are you?”
Then, I hear him say, “Mandy...” but I am unable to hear the rest of his words. Like the blips from a bad radio signal, his sound simply fades into a hum… then nothing. And as his voice drifts away, so does his being.
Still, I do not feel alone or empty, and I glide into a bottomless sleep.
*****
These incredibly heartfelt, if not impassioned moments happened about four or five times over a three-week period. Nevertheless, I am at a loss because I cannot fully comprehend what took place. But in light of all that has happened since December of 2003, I decided to try to capture and make note of these beautifully compelling thoughts and feelings coming through to me. Sometimes the forms arrive as symbols and visual patterns, sometimes as emotions, and other times as words of the English language – all having Max’s unique, resonant quality.
Regardless, my words do not and never will do justice to these overpowering experiences.
*****
Post Script
As the receiver and object of the above thoughts and feelings (in essence, a part and parcel of the not-so-scientific study at hand), I am unable to verify what I have seen or heard. Nevertheless, I do not believe these visions, sounds and sentiments are coming from me, i.e., solely from my mind. In general, this puts me into the dubious category of “object” of the event in question.
Is Max, then, the subject? It would seem so. However, some would say that I am the subject and object as well, i.e., the only “creature” playing a part in the entire scenario. Apart from any commentary at large, I find that as these sounds, sights and sentiments arrive in my field of consciousness, they appear to be extraneous to my being. They are “flying” toward me in what I can only describe as shock waves, soft yet loud – another contradiction – at least on the surface. These waves are filled with an intense energy (or perhaps a consciousness) of their own.
Forgive me. It is difficult to talk about these notions in any humanly intelligible way, but I do hope you will bear with me. It is my best effort at explaining such awe-inspiring yet incomprehensible encounters.
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