Christian Mysticism lessons ,How to see, hear and feel the Holy Spirit

INTRODUCTION TO THE BOOK

Well, there I am feeling quite smug in the fact that I have just written the last of the lessons that I feel I can write at my stage of spiritual development. It was about God’s grace and I had been waiting twenty years to have had enough experience to write those last few pages. My cat Cappuccino was in my lap as usual and I was thinking that I have finally done what I thought the Holy Spirit has wanted me to do in this life. I’m finished writing the lessons, thank God. And it only took me thirty years to come to this point where I can let them go.

Cappuccino has been meditating with me for the last nine years, all his life: Bruiser before him for seven years. I probably cannot mediate without a cat in my lap.  Three hours each morning in my lap or beside me has been our routine.  Every morning no exceptions, there he is and he gets truly upset if I crap out on my end of things for even one day.  He will carry on considerably. So in the middle of my meditation I look down at him and in about one second this whole story line comes into my head.

Maybe my mind would not let me consider anything else until I had finished my obligation to the Holy Spirit. Who knows? I have never written fiction. I don't ’now if I can even tell a story but I have always wondered what would have been the result for young people if a story like Star Wars or Harry Potter or Twilight had the actual truth of our relationship with the Holy Spirit as the underlying foundation of the story line. And even better, what would or who would be awakened if they had woven a method of becoming open to the Holy Spirit within the story line. I mean after all, all I did was look inside by accident one time and there was the Holy Spirit waiting for me and completely changing my whole life.

So I figured I would write a hundred pages or so and put it on my web site and see if anyone wants me to finish the book. If I finish the book and a few people buy it, maybe it would help with the cost of the Google advertising to keep my Lessons in a place where people can see them. Well, that’s been fifty or sixty dollars out of my pocket each month for about forever. Over the years a few people have offered to help with the expense of the advertising and their help has been appreciated. So if you want to help, the best way is to go to Amazon. Com and buy the intro lessons for $2.99 or the full set for $9.99. As I said, it only took me thirty years to write them.

Anyway back to the book. I’m not going to write it quick: Better to write the best story I am capable of than to write a quick one. So far the reviews on this portion of the book have been better than I had expected so I guess I will finish it but you know with my lessons people never had a problem telling me what they thought and what they wanted me to write about or clarify. I don’t see that it should be any different with this book for young people although I have been told it crosses over to adults. And if that turns out to be true, this book might be a good way to introduce friends or relatives to the basic principles of mysticism under the guise of just giving them a book to read that you enjoyed. Anyway, let me know where you want me to go with it. You always have with the lessons. lmrichsn@yahoo.com is where I’m at. Enjoy, I hope. Oh, if you want to read the rest of the book, give me your email address and I will send you a heads up when it comes out on Amazon.com at $2.99, sometime in 2012, I think.

 lmr

THE DEVIL’S MINIONS

ABOUT THE LIGHT

At the beginning of each day everything comes from the light. At the end of each day everything will have merged back into it.  And then the light rests until a new day is born within the infinity of days and nights that the light calls: Its time. It is not just that it is a light. It is that it is the light of the creation of our universe. It is not just that it has created all things. It is that it is all things. It is not just that it is alive. It is that all life is nothing but an extension of the light. When mystics look within themselves to the light of creation of this universe, they see an infinite ocean of bright gold upon which all of creation receives its form and consciousness.

Maintaining the balance of all that is within itself is the light’s duty in this universe. It rains on the mountains and the rain travels its winding course to the sea only to evaporate to become rain on the mountains and all is balanced. The earth is at its proper distance and speed of orbit from the sun to maintain the temperature necessary for life and all is balanced. The sun has its place in our galaxy, the Milky Way. Our galaxy has its place in the universe and all is balanced. But there are other universes and worlds. We call them the heavens and hell.

When unspeakable deeds create a rip in the fabric of our world and evil pours through it, by the nature of what it is, the light must and will find the proper channel for it to flow through to heal this wound and bring the world back into balance. And so our story begins.

THE ANGRY MAN, CHAPTER ONE

THE BOX

The little boy cat had no reason to fear the hand that grabbed him and took him and his five brothers and sisters away from their mother. He was now eight weeks old and the little girl had played with them all the time; held him almost constantly. The lady even pet them once in a while. True the man had never pet or played with them but humans had never hurt them and the lady had always put out food when they needed it. The humans were a part of his family and being put in a box was not unusual or even uncomfortable. When the lady was cleaning up things around the house, she often put the kittens in a box and then took them out of it and brought them back to their mother when she was done.

What the little boy cat didn’t like was when the man folded the four tabs of the box over him and except for the little bit of light that filtered through, it was too dark. And the man wasn’t gentle carrying the box like the lady had always been. He was jerking the box around and the kittens lost their footing, skidded up against one side of the box and ended on top of each other in a heap.

As the man was carrying the box out of the house, the little girl could be heard speaking to him:

“Please daddy can’t we keep one of them.”

“No” was the man’s answer.

“But daddy, I really love the little boy cat with that M over his nose. He is so cute and he’s special daddy, really special. Every time I put him in my lap and pet him, I get all tingly in my head; please, please, pa-----leeeeeeeeese, daddy: “

He looked at his daughter strange for a moment and then totally dismissed what she had just said.

“Absolutely not.”

“Please daddy, please, can’t I at least keep him? I’ll be super good and clean up my room extra special, please daddy?”

“No, my agreement with your mother is one cat and no more.” The man said in a really bitter voice that was more about the little girl’s mother having a cat at all than anything to do with the little girl.

Then a moment’s silence and in a voice that adults use when patronizing children:

“Honey, we can’t have all of these cats around here. They are going to grow up and poop all over the place and you’d have to clean it all up. You don’t want to clean up cat poop, do you?”

Of course the man did not bring up the fact that the mother cat always had taken care of her business outside and had not once messed in the house. This was really good for the mother cat because one mess in the house and the man had already decided how to handle that problem; permanently, very permanently.

“Look,” he lied in that icky sweet voice: “There are just hundreds of people wanting to adopt little kittens like these. I’ll take them over to the Dekalb county humane center and they’ll have wonderful homes to live in. Better than we live in. They’ll be taken care of and have just wonderful lives.”

Now the little boy cat was an orange tabby cat and you can tell if a cat is a tabby cat by the M that is always on the front of its face over its nose. It will always stretch from eye to eye. Sometimes it’s one M on top of another M but always an M if it is a tabby cat. Everybody who knows anything about cats knows that tabby cats are the most intelligent, most loving cats there are and even at eight weeks old, the little boy cat was an unusually intelligent and extraordinarily intuitive tabby cat with a very, very special quality that as yet he didn’t  know he had been born with.  Being a cat so young he did not yet understand one word of the human language but already he could smell fear. He could smell love, he could smell anger and he could smell hate. He could hear the tone of a person’s voice and know when the voice did not match the smell of the person talking. At eight weeks old he was instinctively aware when someone was lying.

The little girl had always been kind and loving; always had a wonderful smell. But now she was really upset. Her smell and the tone of her voice said so. And even through the very strong odor of beer, he knew that the man’s sweet voice did not match the malice of his sweaty smell. The man needed a forked tongue because he was lying through his teeth and although the little boy cat didn’t know what the man was lying about, he became really frightened.

Alice stood with tears running down her face, looking up to her father and in resignation of a hopeless situation whimpered: “Daddy, why do always have to hurt me and be so mean.”

She knew that she would keep the little boy cat in her heart.

Tears still flowing down her face, “for always:” Alice said to herself as she turned and slowly walked away.

“Eeh, she’ll get over it,” the man mumbled, and then with a frown on his face he walked out the door to his old pickup truck and making sure the little girl wasn’t watching, roughly tossed the box onto the front seat. Again all of the kittens where thrown up against the side of the box in a heap.

The little boy cat instinctively knew that he needed to get out of that box. There was nothing good going down here and in desperation he decided to get out at any cost.  He could see a little light coming in from the fold at the top of it and so he raised himself on his hind legs and with his front paws reached through the fold in the box and tried to pull himself through.  He got his head through the fold and looked around for a second but the man was standing next to the truck with the door still open.  Seeing his head sticking out, the man slapped him so hard that the little boy cat fell back into the box, so dizzy he couldn’t stand.  He laid down trying to figure out what to do. The man slammed the passenger door to the truck closed; walked back into a really spotless garage where an old refrigerator with a plaque screwed to the door could be seen.

The man really hated that stuff: Those little sayings written on stones and things that the lady had placed around the house. Affirmations and words of wisdom to think about the lady had said.

“I mean, what is this supposed to mean anyway?” the man thought as he looked at the little sign on the door.

Hate is the heart killer. Those who choose this path should first dig their own grave.

“The doctor said my heart is just fine. It’s my liver he’s worried about,” he thought as he grabbed the last beer, closed the door and walked out to the front of the garage. He leaned up against the wall, took a big swig and started to think about life and drink the last of the twelve beers he had gone through in the last hour: All his wife would let him keep in her refrigerator.

But twelve beers does go a long way towards numbing a person’s conscience; that is if he still had one left. But any more it took twelve beers to get a decent buzz going. Most men would be lying on the floor at that point but the man was a drinking man and in his own mind a man’s man who could drink the other guys under the table and still get up and walk out the door.  The truth was a little different: In actuality the man was nothing but a lush and a mean hateful one at that.

THE ANGRY MAN

He didn’t hate cats much more than he hated anything else. Ok, truth is he did; today anyway. This little spat with his daughter was all their fault. Besides, there were ways to deal with unwanted bags of fur and he had no problem doing it. After all he was a dog man. No not just a dog man, he was a big dog man. Well, not even just a big dog man but a big hunting dog man. He always had been.  His dad had been a big hunting dog man. Lord, he missed his dad and his younger years of hunting in the woods with him. The hound would run the critter down or tree it and he or mostly his dad would shoot it. These times were the greatest of the man’s memories.

And he fondly remembered the rallies, the burnings and the wearing of the sheets that his dad had taken him to: Such great times next to that Stone Mountain. Tea parties they were called. Made you feel like you were a real man; somebody important.

 “Real Americans, all of –um.”

But the last rally had been twenty five years ago and then the city folk started to move in to the area from Atlanta. Lord, he hated those city folk:

”Pretty cars, money to throw around and their uppity ways. They always thought they were better than everyone born out here.”

About this time his dad’s liver had given out: From too much drinking the doctor had said.  “Good he didn’t have to see what was coming. After the city folk, the blacks moved in and after the blacks the Mexicans and after the Mexicans the Asians.  The world is going to hell. There ought to be a law.”

He hated all of them. He couldn’t even drive down Buford Highway and read the signs anymore: All jibber jabber. He couldn’t go to a Waffle Hut without having to listen to their jibber jabber and he hated that most.

“Can’t even listen to their conversations. “

“Ought to be a law. Can’t live here less they speak reg-lur in public,” he mouthed with little more than a whisper coming out.

He hated most everything but his hound, his truck and his guns. His dad had left it all to him when he died: Left him the house and the mechanics shed at the back of the property also. His mother had died of cancer when he was an infant and he didn’t think of her, well, ever.  It was just him and his dad, buying, fixing up and selling cars, trucks and engines till his dad was dead. His dad had been a good ole boy and the man was proud to consider himself to be the same.

“The only real Americans left in this neck of the woods.”

THE LADY

At fifty she a still a handsome woman: Not striking but a pleasantly handsome woman: Full figured but quietly proud of the slim waist that accompanied it. People call it an hour glass figure and BJ which was short for Belinda Joyce, occasionally got second glances from the men when she went to the stores and this made her secretly smile.

She was a meticulous house keeper. Spotless like her mother had shown her how to be but with a flair for decorating that made her mother really proud and had come to make a fine living for her and the he daughter Alice, these past years.

 Now if a young man wants to see what kind of a woman his girlfriend is going to be, what she is going to look and be like: Look at her mother.  That’s your girlfriend in twenty five years. And if a young lady wants to know how she will be treated: Look at how your boyfriend treats his mother because that’s how you will be treated.

BJ couldn’t do that with the man. His mother had passed over when he was young and he hadn’t told her about the tea parties of his youth until after they had been married a couple of years. If he had told her, well, she initially might have been fooled about his character but she was no fool. Hating anyone was just not in her.

BJ had thought she was marrying a man like her daddy. Her daddy was a country man, a hunting man who at almost seventy had still bagged his deer each season. Her mother and father had always had a relationship that she admired. She had been an only child and like her mother had never shown any interest in hunting but her father had always been kind and loving and wonderful. They both had been killed in a car accident a couple of years back. Oh well, life turns out to be what it will but they had left enough for her to send her baby to any one of the best colleges in the world. Even in the darkness of tragedies there a sometimes small rays of light.

Her decorating business had been steadily growing over the years, which was good because the man seemed to bring in a little less money every year and lately he could just barely keep himself in beer.   Most of her customers were the very people that her husband had been raised to hate. But that was his problem not hers. She embraced the diversity of the cultures that had moved into the area these last twenty five years and this was the very reason that she was so good at her work. Interior decorating is a very personal and individualized profession. To do it well you have to get yourself out of the way and put yourself in the clients head. You have to understand them and their culture and translate this understanding into a home décor that not only fits the customer but impresses their friends. Researching the different cultures was one of the things the BJ liked most about her work and when she went to the homes of people of different cultures she made sure her daughter was with her as much as possible.

She was determined that Alice was going to have a broader horizon in life and choices.  She figured the more varied and extensive Alice’s experiences in life, the more choices she would have. The more extensive her education in life, which meant a really good college out of state or even out of country, the more her mind would be capable of taking advantage of the choices available. BJ was going to make sure her little girl had choices and was able to take advantage of them. Her daughter was the bottom line, the most important thing in BJ’s life.

After all, her daughter was a miracle baby. BJ had gone to several doctors. They all told her the same story. I’m so sorry. You have an obstruction which is too dangerous to be operated on. There is not now nor ever will be any chance of you having a baby and the man would not hear of adoption. Then at thirty nine her stomach started to grow and her periods had stopped. She thought it was a tumor but the doctor quickly told her that he although he couldn’t understand how it could happen; she was pregnant.

Then the doctor told her that she couldn’t do it. It was too dangerous. “You both will die.”

Her immediate response was: “So let me die but you save my baby. You save my baby.”

But it was a truly blessed pregnancy. It was like there was a golden glow that had surrounded her. Everyone seemed to mention how radiant she looked. There was no morning sickness. There was no extraordinary weight gain. There were no weird cravings. There weren’t even any stretch marks. In the customary nine months out came this beautiful little girl, so healthy it was hard to believe.

OFF TO THE MECHANIC’S SHED

The man crumpled the empty beer can and threw it on the garage floor then thought better of it and picked it up and put it in a garbage can.

”If there is one thing a man will learn about his woman,” he thought to himself, “it is that she will carry on about every little thing but in the end she ain’t carryun on bout nuthin”.

“I need another beer. Twelve just doesn’t get it and sides she always throws me out of the house when I’ve had more.”

“Take yourself down to your hovel; she calls it, until you get yourself together and your daughter doesn’t have to see you like this: Women.”

“My private collection,” he mumbled.

About this time the little boy cat had started to poke his nose and eyes out of the fold in the box once more but when the man eased into the truck he quickly pulled himself back in, just missing a swing from the man’s knuckles.

“Try it again and I’m gonna knock you out, you worthless bag of fur.”

The man slammed the door to his side of the truck, through it in gear, popped the clutch and throwing gravel all over the place sped off to the back of the property to his mechanic’s shed.

About the only thing important to the man lately was his beer: A couple cases of which just happened to be cooling in his refrigerator at the back of his shed, ”a man’s place,” he thought, smiling as he drove up to it.

“Ok, there were beer cans thrown everywhere, broken car parts scattered everywhere, a couple of torn up cars on the side of it and oily rags stinking up the whole of it: A real man’s place.”

The man slid out of the truck made his way through the debris and got a six pack out of his refrigerator. In the last twenty years it had never once had the greasy messes from the man’s hands wiped from it and must have been the filthiest refrigerator on earth. Something even roaches stayed clear of.

“No need to walk back and forth when this six pack won’t last long enough to get warm,” he thought to himself as he leaned up against his shed and started looking over his truck.

“That’s a jewel: 1970, 350 V8, four wheel drive, 20 inch tires, big winch with a 100 ft. steel cable: Goes anywhere, pulls anything.  Lord, I love that truck.”

“And my hound: Just the best. He trees it and I shoot it. That’s a man’s thing.”

“Now to these bags of fur:  Could just throw the box over into my hound’s pen.  Couple of minutes and it’s all over but probably too much noise.” 

“Let’s see, target practice: Now that’s an idea “and the man began to fondly remember his tenth birthday.  His dad had given him a twenty two long barrel pistol with a case of bird shot cartridges. He recalled how his dad had always carried on about blue jay’s being the most worthless birds there were on the planet and at the time  he knew where a nest of them were. He lined up four worthless baby birds: Had to hold the pistol with both hands but made four shots and all four critters were blown away. The man still had that pistol and still enjoyed his target practice with, well, whatever was unlucky enough  to be available at that moment and at this moment, he knew of six worthless bags of fur that were available.

“Let’s see, six bags of fur, six shots, six more beers,” he finished the last of the six pack he had just pulled out, went back and grabbed another six pack out of the dirty frig. He made it most of the way out to the truck when a shudder went through his whole body. He kind of swayed up against the wall for support as he remembered his little girl’s tenth birthday. It was a number of months ago now but imprinted in his mind as if it had been nailed in place.

THE LITTLE GIRLS TENTH BIRTHDAY

The man and “the lady”, as he always thought of her, couldn’t seem to agree on much of anything these last few years. They stayed out of each other’s way when possible and the lady only put up with the man’s ways for her little girl’s sake. “The little girl,” as he always thought of his daughter, loved the video games at the mall and her dad took her there as often as he could. It was their private time together. Even at her young age, Alice was quite good at the shooting games. Her dad told her she had a good eye and this made Alice even more proud of her abilities.

It all started off with good intentions. It most always does before a drinking man’s stupid factor sneaks up on him.  Remembering his tenth birthday, a couple of weeks before Alice’s tenth birthday the man had told her that if she could get her mother to agree, he would take her down to the river for a little target practice. You know, just shooting cans and targets and such.

“We can set up some good stuff to shoot at that spot. Not much of a river though: More like a glorified creek that Yellow river.” Alice had been to that spot several times with her dad. Mostly walking around and looking at the river and trees and an occasional frog or critter.

Needless to say, Alice was just thrilled with the idea and badgered her mother about it constantly until she finally agreed. The lady knew how to use a gun and was quite good at skeet shooting. Her father had started to take her target shooting with a twenty two pistol and bird shot at that age. It was just killing things BJ couldn’t handle.

On the side “the lady” laid down the law to her husband. ”You will not have anything to drink until you bring your daughter safely home. You will leave that hound of yours in his pen. You will not go anywhere but to that single spot close by on the river where I know where it is and you will come directly home. You will not bring anything with you but that twenty two pistol with nothing more than bird shot.  You will not put more than one shell in that pistol at a time. You will not shoot anything but cans and targets and you will hold that pistol with your daughter when she shoots it until she can handle it by herself.” The man agreed and was as thrilled as “the little girl” to have a father-daughter target shooting day.

That day he woke up as with every other day for the last couple of years: With the jitters. He needed a drink to calm his nerves but knew his wife was going to be right up on him smelling for any sign of beer. There were ways to handle that; fresh clothes, deodorant, cologne, vodka and a lot of mouthwash.

“She’ll be smelling for beer not vodka. Worked before and it’ll work again: Just a couple of drinks to calm the nerves. No problems. Gonna be a great day with the kid.”

He had those couple of drinks and had passed the smell test but it was raining that morning so he had a couple more and just before the weather cleared, a couple more. He stayed away from his wife well enough to pass for sober from a distance and he and Alice made their preparations for the outing.

The man had a nice little buzz going on and was feeling comfortably loose when they started to leave. But there is something everyone should know about drinking. Its effects are not fully immediate and take a number of minutes to completely sink in.  Even if the man would have had not one drop more to drink, he had already drunk enough vodka that stupid would still have snuck up on him in a few more minutes. Now there are two things about drinking enough to feel loose: First a person’s common sense is already half way out the window and second a person absolutely feels they can have a few more drinks and be just fine. So the man figures that instead of taking empty cans to shoot, he would sneak down to the shed, take another twelve full cans of beer and empty them at the spot on the river. 

From the shed, the man and Alice were off, smell test passed earlier and BJ didn’t have a clue. She was outside in her gardening apron potting plants and they all waved as he and Alice drove by the house up the driveway to the road that went to their spot on the river.

The man had not yet had a single one of those twelve beers he was bringing with them but had previously drunk enough vodka that being stupid snuck up on him before they had even made the turn off to their spot. There is something about drinking enough to be stupid: Everything is just wonderful and common sense is now totally out of the window making a dozen more beers about the most perfectly natural thing a stupid person can think of.

It turned out to be a beautiful day. There was bright sunshine and yet not too hot. The rain had left a fresh smell to the river and the man and his daughter enjoyed setting up the targets.  While the man was finishing off the twelve beers, they walked around looking at the river, the trees, the birds and squirrels.  In the middle of this great time that they were having, the extra twelve beers kicked in and totally stupid snuck up on the man.

Here’s the thing about drinking so much that totally stupid sneaks up on you. Your common sense is now in the gutter. A person will be walking around in a total mind fog and anything seems like the most natural thing to do. Usually a person doesn’t even know what they are doing until after they have done something so stupid they can’t take it back. What they are currently doing doesn’t seem to register in the their mind until after they have already done it. Then they can only look at what they have just done through a fog and not fully grasp what it is that just happened.

Joking and carrying on, the man and Alice started walking back to the targets.  First the man was pretending to be John Wayne and the little girl his side kick. Then as much as totally stupid would allow, he was a gunslinger twirling and quick drawing his pistol, pretending to shoot the bad guys. As they were walking up to the targets, this little red squirrel was bouncing around checking out the targets that they had set up earlier. In the middle of his quick draw display, the man saw the squirrel and just like he had done with the blue jays when he was ten and dozens of times when at the spot by himself, without even thinking about it, he shot the little squirrel broad side: The most perfectly natural thing to do when totally stupid sneaks up on a man with a gun, in the middle of pretending to be a gunslinger.

ABOUT ALICE

She was a wonderfully open hearted young lady who was mostly innocent of the ways of her father until about one second ago. Alice’s mother had known a day like this would eventually be coming but had hoped that day would be a few more years off. The little words of wisdom that BJ had placed around the house were strictly for her daughter: To gently guide Alice to be able to see things and people as they were and not as she might want them to be. It was what BJ considered the greatest mistake of her younger years: Seeing the man for what she wanted him to be and not for whom he really was. She was determined that her daughter would not make the same mistake and without be overtly obsessive about It, tried to gently guide Alice to be able to see what was in front of her for what it was.

The small plaque that she had mounted on the Alice’s closet door was quite simple but when understood quite profound: If you are observant, people will quickly show you who they truly are. It is up to you to believe what you see, it read. Of course these were BJ’s own words that she had printed up and had mounted on the door but she didn’t tell Alice this or one single bad thing about her father. She knew her daughter would find out soon enough.

As often as she could, BJ would take Alice with her to her client’s homes and they would play a little game. Her daughter was to be silent and observe what the people said and how they acted and then tell BJ what she thought after they had left the client’s home. When Alice asked why, her mother told her that her own ability to see who someone really was is the reason she was good at her job and could help her clients with their needs and she wanted Alice to be just as good at whatever she chose to do in life. There was a far deeper reason in the back of the BJ’s mind but this was not said.

By the age of ten, Alice had become quite good at seeing who people really were but no little girl wants to see her father’s short comings. She did understand that her father was always carrying on about something and was almost as often complaining that everyone who wasn’t a true American should go back to where they came from. When Alice asked her mother about this, BJ quietly explained that the Indians were the first Americans and had been here for the last thirty thousand years: That everyone else was a recent immigrant who should just try to get along. When Alice mentioned this fact to her father, he threw up his arms, howled his disproval and growled that Indians didn’t count and stomped off. But Alice knew that everybody counts; although she didn’t say so to her father. Anymore, she didn’t talk to her father much about people and never about her friends at school. They played video games and she loved him.

FROM THE FRYING PAN INTO THE FIRE

Alice immediately ran to the squirrel to see if she could help it. It is what she always did: Putting a baby bird back in its nest, taking bugs outside instead of killing them, putting food out for most everything, ad infinitum. It was her good hearted nature to help wherever she could. But there was also steel inside this little girl.

The man was swaying in place and hadn’t yet been able to see through his fog to come to grips with what he had just done.

Hunters never talk about the fact that shot animals don’t always die easily and this is especially true when shot broadside with bird shot. Alice stood over the squirrel in absolute shock as she watched the poor thing convulse. Finally getting some sense of what he had done, the man walked over to the squirrel and shot it again and the little thing went still.  The man was going to pick it up and throw it in the river but his actions were so slow that before he could do anything, Alice had already taken off her t shirt, wrapped the squirrel in it and held the now bloody bundle to her chest.  Tears flowing like a river down her face, eyes as big a saucers, she whimpered “I’ve got to give it a proper burial and for the first time, she began to see her father for what he was at this moment; a mean, hateful drunk.

Her eyes gradually began to narrow and became little more than slits. She clenched her teeth and her body began to vibrate in fury as she stared at him. If looks could kill, the man would be dead. Seeing his daughter standing there with no shirt and the bloody t shirt held to her chest, he totally freaked. He started shaking so bad it was almost impossible for him to stand but even so he did manage to take off his own t shirt and hand it to Alice and ask her to put it on. She grabbed the t shirt but taking one smell of it she screamed:

“I’d rather be naked than to wear this stank thing.”

Alice quickly turned and threw her father’s t shirt in the river, then turned back to her father and screamed at him again,

“I’ll never come here with you again. Take me home, I want my mommy.“

Still holding the bloody t shirt and squirrel to her, Alice marched off to the truck, opened the passenger side door, hopped in, slammed the door and sat stoically waiting to be taken home.

Now the man began shaking so bad he couldn’t stand at all and slowly sank to the ground. Even through his fog, he knew his wife was going to kill him.  And his daughter; how was he ever going to fix this.  He tried to get up and couldn’t. His brain sort of knew what to do but there seemed to be some kind of disconnect between it and the rest of his body. After a couple more minutes of trying to get up and failing, he finally did manage to get to his feet and wobble over to the truck and get in. He couldn’t bring up enough courage to even look at his daughter. He just couldn’t bear to see that look on her face again.

The man did manage to get his truck started, in gear and they headed home, if that’s what you could call it. It’s not clear if he ever managed to get all four tires on the road at the same time but he did manage to find every ditch on both sides of the road. Then he mowed down one mailbox and promptly overcorrected and took out another on the opposite side of the road. Finally finding their driveway, he then turned into it too quickly and left a forty foot furrow in the still wet front yard with the truck’s driver side tires.

BJ was still in the back yard potting her flowers and by the sound of it she knew something was wrong before she saw them.  She turned mouth wide open and eyes as big as saucers to see the truck take out the corner post to what used to be a very lovely white picket fence, then swing around to the house and knock down the fence again before finally coming to a stop.

As soon as she saw her mother, Alice lost what little composure she was maintaining, started crying hysterically and jumped out of the truck running to her.

Seeing her daughter, with a bloody t-shirt up against her chest and a small trickle of blood on Alice’s stomach, BJ had but one thought:

“Oh my God, the fool has shot my baby”

She immediately went into a mother’s full panic mode. A mother’s full panic mode is a wonder to behold. To her, everything is happening in slow motion. To anyone watching, she is moving so deliberately, you don’t want to be in her way and so fast as to be a blur. In about five seconds BJ had stripped Alice of the bloody t shirt and had checked out every square inch of her daughter’s body to make sure there was no damage. They both sat on the lawn, crying and hugging each other while Alice babbled on about her father being a murderer and they had to give the squirrel a proper burial.

In the middle of this, the man finally staggered out of the truck. But being unable to stand on his own he had to work his way to the front of the truck by holding on to it and squeezing through a small gap in the fence that he had just knocked down. So there he stood, to himself looking quite sober but the fact that he couldn’t stand without holding on to the truck, had no shirt on and had four inches of beer belly hanging out over his belt didn’t help.  Alice was still crying and carrying on and the man starts babbling on about how he tried to give her his t shirt to his daughter but she threw it in the river and it was all just a misunderstanding. But he might as well have been speaking Russian because nothing he said came out in understandable English.

BJ quickly washed down her daughter, took her gardening apron and tied it around Alice for a shirt and seeing her quieted down for a bit she turned to the man. The eyes that were like saucers gradually narrowed to the size of slits and she began to clench her teeth. BJ started to vibrate as a fury began to build through her body. If looks could kill, the man would be dead all over again. Now you could say that she exploded but that wouldn’t be accurate. It was more like the asteroid that ended the reign of the dinosaurs. The man had never heard words like this come from the lady; ever. And the man had never been called names like this from her; ever. It went on for a while. To the man it seemed forever.

Seeing her mother in a rage set Alice off to crying again and noticing her daughter, BJ took a breath, gave the man a last dirty look then turned and came back to her baby. Again, they both sat on the lawn holding each other crying.  Alice was crying about the dead squirrel and BJ was crying in relief that her daughter was somehow physically unharmed.

The man saw his window and while ‘the lady” and “the little girl” were occupied with each other, he quietly sneaked through the gap in the fence, rounded the front of the truck and slipped back into the seat. The man then  started the engine and began to ease the truck back through the fence he had just run over. This little maneuver did not go unnoticed.  BJ quickly stood up, ran over to her biggest potted plant and heaved it into the windshield of the truck where it stuck, flowers and all, looking like some weird piece of junkyard art. The man gunned the engine and backed all the way across to the other side of the driveway, mowing down a section of hedges the width of the back of his truck. He then threw the truck into drive and barely avoiding a tree before making it to his mechanics shed; he continued drinking until he passed out on the ground, threw up all over himself and laid in this mess until the next day when he woke up so sick he could barely move out of the ick.

Even when a person uses the excuse that it snuck up on me, there are often consequences to going totally stupid and sometimes these consequences will last for a lifetime. It was almost a week before the man had enough nerve to show his face at the house. He had slept in his truck every night that week. For the rest of his short life, he never did and no matter how many years he could have lived he never would have made it out of the spare bedroom.

A life of hate and anger will eventually lead to something like this. Whether it is drugs, alcohol or whatever, eventually hateful people will always find some way to go totally stupid. Holding hate or anger in our hearts is a very slippery slope to be on. That kind of life most always ends up in the mud at the bottom of some hill or another.

TARGET PRACTICE

“Women just don’t get it, young and old, none of---um.  It was nothing but a worthless critter. The only reason they were put here was to give a man something to shoot at. Lord, I wish I had a son. And those lousy stinking bags of fur they keep. They’ll pay:“

At this moment in time, it seemed to the man that the kittens were the cause of all of his problems with his wife and daughter.  Yes, the man had drunk enough to have gone back into his totally stupid mode. Nothing had to make sense for him to feel perfectly correct about everything.

Getting himself together and grabbing his beers, he pushed himself away from the wall, staggered into his truck (and what else is new,) was barely able to keep it on the road and keep from taking down a few more mailboxes as he sort of drove off to his regular spot along the river.

Shortly, he turned off the highway at his spot onto that winding dirt and mostly grass road that ran along a couple of miles of the Yellow river. He immediately slammed on the brakes and only had two words to say: “Crap, flooded.”  The spring rains had ruined his plans.

“Well, at least I got beer. I need to get this over with. There’s always that bridge down there by that crazy old hermit.  Has people from all over the world come and see him. Crazy, him and all them fur—in--ners, all of----um, crazy”.

About this time the little boy cat stuck his head out of the box again. There was another wild swing of the knuckles, another quick duck and he was back in the box looking for any opportunity to escape. There was pure hate in this man’s heart. He could smell it, even over eighteen beers.

The man threw his truck into reverse, gunned the engine and wildly backed the truck all the way across the highway into the ditch on the other side of the road.  That’s where he should have been stuck but for his four wheel drive. He threw the truck into drive, gunned the engine again and off he went, continuing to swerve all over the road and barely making that steep curve that ends with the bridge over the Yellow river. Rounding the bend, he could see that the river was over its banks by a couple of hundred feet on each side; perfect.  Barely stopping long enough to take a breath and thinking about it for even less time, the man grabbed the box and threw it out the open passenger side window into the muddy swirling water below.

He again gunned the engine to his truck and never looking back or giving what he had just done a second thought, the man roared off to his own destiny. He, of course had no idea that his own destiny was the same that he had just bestowed on the box full of kittens that was now sinking into the river. And it would be in a very short time, down this very same road, with this very same bridge and swollen river, with a different set of twenty some beers and rain and wet pavement that would not allow him to drive around the curve as fast as he was drunkenly trying to do.

It is written that what we sow we will eventually reap. This brings balance to all things and is the governing law of our world. We need to be careful with what we put out into this world. It will eventually come back to us: The good we call grace and the bad we call justice.

This is all true, just not in this case. In this case: It’s not healthy to stand in the way of the light when it brings souls together for a purpose. It plays by its own rules and it doesn’t play fair.

INTO THE RIVER

Alice grabbed for her heart and sank to her knees as a terrible feeling of dread poured through her.

The little boy cat was half out of the box before it hit the water. It was good for him that the box landed fold side up or his life would have been a very short story. The box was taped on the bottom fold so it didn’t immediately sink into the river but started to float downstream with the current.

Now if a person were to walk along any river, they will always see where during floods the banks have been eaten away when the swift moving water has risen up to that level. Trees along the river will often have part of their root system washed away on the river side and then will topple into it. These trees are not usually washed down stream because the other part of their root system is holding them in place. Fishermen always look for trees like this because that’s where the big ones can be found.

As the box rounded the bend, fate would have it for the little boy cat that a tree like this was in its path. Although the trunk of the tree was completely submerged, there were a few small branches sticking up out of the water. By the time the box hit one of the branches and started to be pulled under, the little boy cat was far enough out of it to grab onto the branch. Even kittens have very sharp claws and the little boy cat put them to immediate and desperate use.  The box was sucked under the swirling water with him still partially in it but the little boy cat’s claws held fast and the box pulled itself free of him a moment later: The box and his five siblings never to be seen again.

Although out of the box, the little boy cat was still half in the river and the current was really strong.  But sharp claws and a lot of desperation prevailed and soaking wet he somehow was able to pull himself out of the muddy water and climb up and cling onto one small branch in the middle of the flooded river. Not having a clue as to how to get out of this mess, the only thing the little orange tabby cat, born with a special gift and that cute little M on his head was determined to do was to hold on for dear life and not let go.

Huehuecoyotl, the old coyote

IT

Once again, It had been called through a rip created in the fabric that separates our world from the underworld, as the Aztecs had called the universe below ours.  The Aztecs had come to know him best and It had been one of their gods. They called him Huehuecoyotl, the old coyote, the god of chaos, trickery, deception and wanton perversion. That description pretty well fit Its personality because he hated balance and would sneak into our world to create as much death, chaos and perversion as often as circumstances would allow.

He was an old demon and one of just a few thousand angels that had been thrown out of heaven to become overlords of hell. It had been their leader. He once was beautiful and vain but because of his arrogance had tried to take control of the heavens. This did not go well with the angel the light had put in charge, the angel everyone called the son. After a really brutal battle between the two armies of angels, It and his cohorts were banished, actually and literally thrown out of the heavens into hell. If any single demon could be called the Devil, It would be the one to assume the title. Over the millennia evil had taken its toll on his countenance and he had become as hideous to look at as he was once beautiful. And when the light eventually brought humans into existence, it was natural for It to take the position of bringing the evil souls to hell.

Five thousand years ago the Egyptians somewhat understood. They knew him as Anubis, the jackal god who weighed people’s hearts and took the souls who deserved it to the underworld. Although It was and still is in charge, he has mostly left that boring task to his minions, what people now commonly call the angels of death. Simply put, It has loved to create widespread and massive chaos and death too much to be bothered with such a small task as weighing the heart of an individual soul. But it is why those in hell have no hearts and no hope of redemption. Their hearts have all been ripped out by the angels of death and without hearts, souls can only feel any emotion but pain.

He had been known to the Canaanites as Baal and to the Assyrians and Babylonians and other ancient cultures who practiced state sponsored perversion and ritual sacrifice of children by various other names. But no one came to know him like the Indian tribes of meso-America who practiced blood sacrifice of the innocents and even cannibalism on a massive scale for hundreds of years. All through South and Central America and even into Mexico It and the other lesser overlords from hell reigned under various names and guises. For a short period they even came up into Arizona as gods of the Anasazi.  Meso-America was his and his lesser overlord’s finest hour and It kind of liked the ring of that name, Huehuecoyotl.

There was a reason that the Egyptians pictured Anubis with the head of a jackal and the Aztecs pictured Huehuecoyotl with the head of a coyote. This was because these were the animals that It could possess and control to do his bidding in a world where only his mind could enter. Smaller overlords and run of the mill demons, all his minions, were so small and insignificant that they could easily pass between the worlds without any problems. But It was the overlord over overlords, too big and powerful to come through. Life on earth would end as we know it and the light could not allow this to happen. But with the appropriate rip between the worlds, Its mind could pass through and he could possess thousands and make them his slaves.

There is only one way to cause a rip in the fabric that separates the worlds and open a gate to hell to call forth a demon and that is through the repeated deaths of innocent souls at a sacrificial spot, accompanied by specific incantations to the demon they wish to conjure. Twenty years some ago now, an ancient Aztec tablet had been found with very specific instructions on how to call forth Huehuecoyotl. It wasn’t easy to find and the scholars never could figure out why a little tablet was hidden in such an extreme fashion. It was in the Yucatan peninsula and the tablet was buried at the bottom of an Aztec pyramid, under a two ton slab and down a hundred foot shaft that was filled with sand.

The archeologist who dug it up was considerable disappointed. After all that hiding, he was expecting gold or treasure not a small stone tablet with nothing of value accompanying it. When translated, Aztec superstition was all that was written on the tablet and what scholar believes the reality of ancient superstition?  The tablet was stuffed onto a shelf with hundreds of others in a museum in Mexico and the text was printed into an obscure archeology book and both where forgotten about -----------until.

There are those among us who look for power and control over others beyond the normal course of human activity: Devil worshipers and such who are willing to sell their souls for a few years of power and perversion. Fools, all of them, if they think that It would give them any leniency in hell. First they found the text online and then they broke into the museum in Mexico and stole the tablet. In the mountains of northern Georgia they bought a very large tract of land that was remote enough from prying eyes and had a cave adequate in size for their ritual practices. They set up a large flat stone sacrificial alter and attached shackles to it for their victims hands and feet. Innocents began to come up missing from hundreds of miles around and finally It as Huehuecoyotl answered their beckoning.

It had been waiting since the middle of the fifteen hundreds for a rip in the fabric between the worlds. The Spanish had ended his reign over his chosen territory in meso-America: Not with tens of thousands of men with swords as was the case with the previous civilizations he and the lesser overlords had corrupted but with the diseases the Spaniards were carrying. Two plagues of smallpox and one of typhoid killing eighty percent of the indigenous population put an end to his reign in Mexico around fifteen hundred fifty. He knew the light would use what it would use to bring balance back into the world but it was a magnificent run of chaos, death and perversion that all the overlords of hell had enjoyed at one time or another. The constant wars between the tribes was like playing chess with human pawns. The losers had their men slaughtered, their woman pillaged, and often their children, well you know. Fun and games, those times and It was always the winner.

Now these devil worshippers had called him by the name taken from that time: From that the stone tablet stolen from Mexico. True, it was a small rip in the fabric between the worlds, just a few dozen innocents slaughtered instead of thousands and normally he would ignore such a little gate into the world or send one of his underlings to have some fun but times were getting hard. It had been almost five hundred years, the world was getting too civilized, no one was worshiping the old gods and the truth was he had been growing impatient for some mayhem: So as Huehuecoytl, It came to them.

And following It to northern Georgia, the coyotes came. The  biologists were baffled by the sudden influx of coyotes into the area, down even into Atlanta and below. Coyotes are not indigenous to that area of the country and had never before been seen in northern Georgia in recorded history. Why now? The biologists had no idea and the devil worshipers didn’t correlate the two until later. It was not about to tell his secrets to anyone, especially to humans. At best humans were play things to be used and abused on his whims and tortured when his minions brought them to hell. Hey, it helps pass the time.

The devil worshippers were evil but naive and had no idea who they had called. They were expecting what to It was an insignificant: a minor demon who could possess a single person or maybe two and give out a few favors and wealth.  It could possess a whole city of people and make them his slaves.

Its mind began the process of flowing down from that hill through the valleys and into the cities of the area. Its mind crept like a thick smog that is so foul and dense that it becomes difficult to breathe and without even knowing what’s wrong, the people of the area had started taking short breaths. Its mind began clinging to and corrupting everything in its path. People who had died could not find the light. People who lived began to do evil acts they would not have normally done. The balance of things, the normal choice for the good and bad of things became disrupted and the evil was growing stronger: Not strong enough yet, the gate was still too small for Its full powers but there was still time and more innocents to slaughter. The gate could be made to work.

You see, this world is an in-between place, a place of subconscious choice for those who live in it. Our world has one foot in heaven and the other foot in hell and can be influenced by either side. Small demons and angels come and go with impunity. Being from the other worlds they cannot be seen by most but their influence is felt. Our world is in a constant battle between good and evil with each side trying to influence the hearts of those who live here.  It is the light of creations duty to keep the proper balance in this continuous struggle. This is the only way that our world can exist and play its part in the whole of things.  As each soul lives out it’s allotted time on this earth and then falls asleep in death, everything and everyone will have a choice made for them by the light: Whether they should continue their journey into the light or fall into the darkness. It is the way of our world and denying or ignoring the way of our world doesn’t make it any less true.

In response to this evil, a channel for the light to heal the wound had recently been born. It could feel it and he knew what it was but not where it was.  He knew this creature was close, within a hundred miles or so south but no matter how hard he tried he could not tell where it was.

And on top of this, It was truly insulted. Before, the light had to send tens of thousands of soldiers with their swords and they had to destroy a whole civilization that he and his underlings had influenced before their reign would come to an end. But now the light was sending one creature as a sword: A pitiful, miserable cat. True, he was allergic to cats or something like that. He could not be close to one without feeling extreme pain. Most be some kind of mystical or genetic problem he had with all cats except black cats. It could control black cats as easily as the coyotes. For some reason they were more easily influenced to do evil and it was for this reason that throughout history black magic witches had always favored them.

That’s all fine, no problem: One cat. Other than being allergic to them, what could be so powerful about one lousy cat that could bring down the overlord of overloads of Hell?  He would squash this little creature like a bug: Kill it before it had a chance to grow strong. It had acquired his army; they had been coming into the area from the West for months, thousands of them.

They had but one command: “Except for the black ones, Kill them, kill them all and when you kill one with an M over its nose, bring its body back and lay it on my stone so that I can see if it is the one.”

SETTLING IN, chapter 2

OUT OF THE RIVER

The little tabby cat’s claws still held fast but then what was the choice? Minutes felt like hours and as the hours passed they felt like days and it became a very long dark night. But there is a thing about north Georgia’s rivers and that is because it is hilly country, the rivers are quick to rise but they also quickly fall. As dawn broke, the trunk of the tree was starting to be seen under the muddy water. It was cloudy that next day and at first looked like more rain. But other than a few drizzles coming and going with some patchy clouds, a bit later it seemed to be clearing.  By noon the trunk of the tree was barely out of the river and by dusk, dry enough that the little boy cat was willing to chance it.

Alice had been sick all night with a high fever that seemed to be getting worse. BJ thought her daughter had come down with the flu and called the doctor, who told her to bring her in tomorrow if she wasn’t any better or immediately to the emergency room if the fever got too high.

It was a small oak tree that had fallen into the river. Oak trees, even the small ones have a mildly rough bark, which was fortunate because, although the mud that was carried by the flooding river lay in the crevices and was still wet and slippery, the ridges were fairly dry and with a lot of caution, seemed navigable even with muscles that were so cramped up the little boy cat could barely move. Rear end first, he shimmed down the branch that had been sticking out of the water and finally with claws still into the branch he let his butt rest on the tree trunk. The little boy cat took a few deep breaths trying to relax and get himself together.

It was going to get dark soon and he knew he had to get off that tree. At this moment that’s as far into the future as he could see. Ever so slowly the little boy cat loosened one paw and reached down and sunk his claws into the bark of the trunk of the tree: Then the other.  In slow motion, he turned and sunk his claws in again. Sinking his claws in one after the other, never leaving all paws free at the same time he inched his way down to the exposed root ball which was a foot past the edge of the bank of the river.

There wasn’t enough clearance for him to take the easy way and jump off the tree to the ground. The bank was steep and he would have slipped in the mud and tumbled right back into the river.

“Ok, got to get over the root ball.”

I was tangled like a jungle. But again claws and desperation prevailed and the little cat got to the top and looked around. Mud everywhere. But if he took that little incline, the mud didn’t last as long and further up it looked dry like some kind of a path or something.

Again he shimmed down, rear end first and getting to the bottom of the root ball proceeded to sit in a half inch of mud left by the flood. Not the most pleasant thing he had ever experienced. Now a half inch of mud isn’t much when your four or five foot tall. See what you think when you’re only six inches tall.

“Before it gets too dark, I gotta get out of the mud and up that rise:” He thought. And his will power kept growing. He had not gone through all of this to give up now and die in the mud. Totally exhausted, completely covered in mud and slime he slipped and crawled, climbed and clawed his way up that rise to where it was dry. Only a foot further and there was a path beaten free of tall grass and weeds by someone or something walking it frequently. But the little boy cat with that cute M over his nose could not move a single muscle to reach it. He just kind of passed out for a while.

The little boy cat woke with a start. It was the middle of the night and something was coming. He could hear it. It was a moon lit night and not pitch dark as in the night before. It was standing about three foot away and sniffing into a slight breeze, a coyote.

“Don’t see me. Don’t see me. Don’t see me.” The little boy cat thought.

Alice was on her way to the bathroom and collapsed on the floor.

The coyote shook its head a couple of times, sniffed into the air again and looked directly at the little cat lying on the side of the path and-------------------------didn’t see or smell a thing. Shaking his head another couple of times, the coyote let out a couple of yips and proceeded his way along the path and in a few seconds was out of sight.

The little boy cat took a very deep breath and was totally bewildered as to why he was still alive.

It wasn’t two minutes later that he could hear the laughing. Rounding the curve in the path, it was as big as a man but seemed to glow in the dark. Was it a ghost? Couldn’t be, ghosts were white. He had seen the ghosts of dead things. Cats can see things that people have no idea about: Most people any way. But this was a golden glow around something and it was laughing. Two big wonderful hands reached down and picked the little boy cat up off of the grass. He could feel the power of the light coming off of those hands. It made the little boy cat tingly all through his body; as if being filled with electricity.

He looked up into the face of this old man, maybe seventy or so, with a long grey beard and long grey hair. Each hair on the old man’s head glowed gold. He skin glowed gold. The little boy cat had never seen a man like this but took another very deep breath. He knew he was saved.

Alice picked herself up off of the floor. Fever gone and feeling wonderful she went to the kitchen to get something to eat.

The old man was still chuckling and looked down at the little guy.

“You’re a cute little thing but look at you all covered in mud and slime.”  And the old man chuckled again. “So you found out who you are and what you can do. Well, maybe not who you are. That will come when it comes but at least you got a glimpse at what you can do. Look at you all orange and everything, with that cute little M over your nose. Let’s see, Hmm, let’s see, I think Cappuccino will be a perfect name for you.“

You see, Cappuccino had never been in one lick of danger. Not when thrown into the river. Not hanging on to that branch in the middle of a flood. Not in the mud and not even from the coyote. The old man had been shown it all in advance and had only been waiting for the light to tell him the exact moment to show up and pick up the pieces. When someone or in this case something: (No I take it back. Cappuccino is definitely a someone:)

And when someone is strong in the light, sometimes a very strong close to death shock to the nervous system is all that is necessary to bring everything together: Brain cells that is. Cappuccino’s training had already started and he didn’t even know it.

With Cappuccino in his arms and still laughing, the old man turned and headed back to his house. It was a short walk, even for an old man and Cappuccino had almost immediately fallen asleep. He woke to the feeling of warm soapy water cleaning off the mud and slime. The old man was still bemused, chuckling and humming some silly tune at the same time. Cappuccino opened           his eyes and acknowledged the fact that he had been cleaned up and then he fell fast asleep. For the next week he did two things. He slept and he woke up just long enough to eat, go the kitty litter and fall back asleep again.

ABOUT THE OLD MAN

His mother was a prostitute: So he had been told at a very early age in their continuous psychological program to let him understand that he didn’t deserve anything better in life. Shortly after birth, still covered in the residue, he had been abandoned at the door of a hospital. Better than others who never made it out of the trash, I guess. But with how children were treated in some orphanages seventy years ago, the trash might have been a blessing.

The orphanage he was put in was one of the worse: A big city orphanage in Chicago on the worst side of town with too many children, a staff that didn’t care about anything but discipline, working a budget that hardly allowed enough money to feed the children let alone give the building any heat in the winter. They only had one basic rule for the kids. You shut up, you follow all the rules to the letter, you don’t cause any problems or extra work for the staff in any way or you get the belt with the steel tip.

But Lawrence as they called him, Lawrence J Doe as in John Doe, (some staff members sick sense of humor because his mother was a prostitute,) I guess, was born with a not to uncommon curse for children. He wet the bed. Now, when a child wets the bed and makes the staff have to change the sheets and wash the child’s underwear, they get beat with the steel tipped belt every time: No negotiations, no mercy and no reprieve.

There was a perfectly logical and righteous reason for this. In the hell fire and damnation view of seventy years ago, at least at this orphanage, first, the children wouldn’t be there if they weren’t cursed or their parents weren’t cursed which was the same thing. Second, children like Lawrence were especially cursed and that curse had to be beat out of all of the children but especially anyone like that Lawrence child who causes the staff extra work.

Do you have any idea what it is like being beat, not every day but at least every week for the first twelve years of your life. Alone with the beatings there would be periods of humiliation where even at twelve  Lawrence would be forced to wear diapers and stand in front of the other children as they heckled and made fun of him.

Don’t go all judgmental on me here. No child deserves this. When children like this wake up in the morning, their bed is wet and they have no idea how it happened. Wetting the bed is not an emotional problem. It is a medical problem, a hormone problem that a child has no control over but will usually grow out of sometime when a new set of hormones kick sometime in their teens. For Lawrence it happened with the light at twelve. In looking back on it, he often wondered if the only reason the light had come to him as it did was because his need for it was greater than most others. Being beat every week of his life with periods of humiliation does give a child a certain inner strength.  And being one of the most cursed ones and having no friends does help a child learn the joys of solitude and rejection. And so the Light came to him in his need for it: Perhaps because of his wonderfully open heart, perhaps because of his inner strength but probably because he was born in the right place with the right genetics, at the right time for its purposes.

One afternoon, he felt drawn to look within; he don’t know why. Without really knowing what he was doing, he simply closed his eyes and was drawn to look behind the darkness of his mind. It just felt like something was in there waiting for him. Go figure. With each exhalation he imagined that he was falling deeper and deeper into the ocean of darkness before him. Suddenly he seemed to fall inside himself and as this happened, a stillness, a quietness of mind began to creep over him. His face began to feel wooden; his body lost all physical sensation and became numb; his consciousness became lifted, with his mind becoming still and crisp and light and so much more aware than normal and as this happened a beautiful golden light wrapped itself around him, filled his awareness and brought a comfort and peace he had never known in life. It seemed to fill just absolutely everything, permeating the very essence of his being, lifting him above his normal intelligence and awareness.

It is difficult to explain. But if you can imagine the difference between normal thinking awareness and the fog that a person might wake up in when they have not had enough sleep, it would seem the same distance between this still, crisp, light expanded awareness he was experiencing and what now seemed the heavy normal thinking awareness he had always known. The cognitive ability of this new expanded awareness coupled with the peace and joy brought by the golden light, was simply incredible.

He rested for a short while, absorbed in the golden light but as soon as he started to mentally analyze the light, you know, trying to be absolutely rational about the whole thing, he dropped out of the intuitive awareness and the light mysteriously faded away. As he left the intuitive awareness and dropped back into his normal thinking awareness, it felt just like the description he had read of the process a few years later: “As if putting on soiled clothes.”

He had just had the most wonderful experience of his life: AND WANTED IT BACK! The next day, trying to experience the same golden light and intuitive awareness that he rested in the day before, he again looked behind the darkness of his mind for the light. With each exhalation he again imagined that he was falling through the darkness of his mind into it. For the second time his body went numb, his mind became still, he became lifted into the light, crisp mental state that he later learned was the intuitive awareness that mystics throughout history have experienced when having prophecies and visions. The golden light wrapped itself around him again and filled his mind with the same peace and joy he had felt the day before.

So this is how his journey to find the deep things of the light began; spontaneously being lifted into the intuitive mind, wrapped in the golden lights arms, not understanding anything but the wonder of it all.

In those early days with the light, he soon learned that when his mind was actively thinking about the light, actively thinking about experiences, actively thinking about things he had read, actively thinking about thinking or anything else, the intuitive awareness that opens one to the golden light would and could not happen. He soon learned that it was only when he would became like an empty vessel and would stop thinking and just sit silently looking behind the darkness of his mind and longing for and imagining that he was falling into the light’s arms that an intuitive calmness would envelop him which would allow the light to come into his awareness.

And so Lawrence learned to pray from his heart and not from the thinking processes of his mind; three hours every morning for the rest of his life. He continued to grow in the light to a point now almost sixty years later where he can no longer tell where he ends and the light of creation begins or conversely where the light ends and he begins. After all, they are the same light. The only difference is that the light of creation is an infinite ocean of consciousness and souls and demons and angels and all of creation are but waves of this very same infinite consciousness. The created are not separate from the whole but are simply playing each of their  little games of life and death and intrigue on its surface: All the same light, all connected to the whole, only different points of view.

Slow the lights vibration down and it becomes energy. Slow its vibration down further and it becomes the matter of our universe. Slow the light down even further and it becomes the universe of muddy darkness, pain and turmoil that we call hell. But speed the lights vibration up enough and it becomes the white light of the heavens and of the pure souls we call angels. All things are but one thing. In its myriads of forms, only infinite consciousness manifested as infinite light has ever existed.

At twelve Lawrence ran away from the orphanage which was better than the insane asylum the staff was about to send him to. He had made the mistake of talking about his experiences with the light. Later he learned silence as a virtue: After all the world is still quite primitive and not yet ready for the truth of such things.

After travelling all over the world and never asking for but somehow accumulating a lot of money for his healing work,   Lawrence came to settle on a thousand acre farm outside of Atlanta. And our story continues; now one week after Cappuccino had come out of the river.

WHO SAID THE LIGHT DOESN’T HAVE A SENSE OF HUMOR?

404-289-XXXX

“Hello, Dekalb County Humane Center. How can I help you?”

“Hi, my name is Alice Harrison. My daddy brought some kittens over to you last Saturday and I wanted to find out how they are doing and if anybody adopted them yet.”

Receptionist: “Just a moment dear. Let me see.”

Two minutes passed.

“Honey, I was here last Saturday and no kittens were brought in that I saw. And I just talked to the other person who was here and they said that no kittens were dropped off to them either. I’m sorry there were no kittens brought here last Saturday.”

“My daddy drives an old red pickup truck and he brought some kittens to you Saturday. I just wanted to know how they were.”

 “Honey I’m sorry there was no red truck here Saturday. If there had been I would have seen it. I was here all day and no red truck ever came here. I’m sorry honey, no kittens were brought here.”

“Thank you mam. Can you hold for a moment so I can get my mommy?”

“Mommy. Mommy! Mommyeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Her mother was there before the end of the eeeee.

“What baby?”

Alice handed her the phone, tears now running down her face.

BJ politely talked on the phone for a few minutes and gently hung it up with such deliberation that you knew she was about to hurt someone.

She called to the man. Her voice was quavering.

He came out of the spare bedroom, which is where he had been directed to sleep since being allowed back into the house just that day. He had downed his customary 12 beers and had his little buzz going.

“Whaa?”

“What did you do with those Kittens?” BJ asked.

“I took them to……”

“No you didn’t. We just called the Humane Center. What did you do with those kittens?”

“I,----I,----I, um”

“You worthless lush. You know how your daughter loved them. What did you do with those kittens?”

Alice lost it and screamed at him:

“Where is my little tabby cat. What did you do with him? I know he is still alive. I can feel him in my heart. Where is he?”

It was too much for the man. In a fit of bitterness, he spit out the truth.

“They wuz nothin’ but worthless bags of fur and I threw them in the river. It’s what all cats deserve. Good riddance.”

In an evil gesture, the man drew his finger across his throat and defiantly marched out of the house.

“I can’t take this anymore:” He mumbled and promptly went to his hovel and downed another dozen beers.

“I gotta get out of here: Somewhere away from them cat lovers.”

He jumped in his truck and sped down the road to where he didn’t know or care. Two dozen beers doesn’t make for good driving but for him, somewhat doable. This time he only took out one mail box. 

“Damn things are too close to the road anyways.”

And his foot pressed heavier on the pedal going about ninety past his spot.

“Nothing but bad memories. Hate---um, hate---um all, young and old, women, hate---um all”.

Going about eighty he approached the bend to the river. The man had been through here so many times that he knew he could easily take it at seventy and slowed down to that speed. But he hadn’t counted on the pop up thunderstorm that came out of nowhere just as he was rounding the bend. The rain was so thick he couldn’t see the front of his truck, let alone the road.  The truck hit the concrete barricade to the bridge at about sixty. It went straight up into the air, flew through the rain like some huge ugly red bird straight out of a horror movie and then landed upside down in the middle of the Yellow river. The rain stopped the moment the truck hit the water. It was the only rain cloud in Georgia that day and it had only lasted for twenty seconds.

The man had been thrown through the windshield of the truck and his body floated a couple of hundred yards downstream before it got hung up. The authorities found it wrapped around the same tree that had killed five kittens but had saved Cappuccino the week before. The ghosts of five kittens were sitting on that same tree, looking down at the body, smiling.

Four days later at the funeral and there was hardly anyone at the funeral home to see the man off. It was another beautiful spring day, partly cloudy, birds chirping, a lingering sweet smell from a rain the night before and not too much heat. The room they were in was small, neat and proper but then no big affair was needed. Alice and her mother of course were there and a few others out of courtesy for Alice’s mother but the truth was that the man had alienated most everyone he had ever met and nobody was attending because they liked him.

Who knows if was the shock of the death of her father or just the impulse from holding something, ok, someone, so strong in the light for eight weeks or both but for whatever reason at this moment the connections came together in her head and Alice sat at the funeral seeing something most will never see and some will never believe until it is too late for them.

Alice was sitting in the front row of seats with her mother. Almost in disbelief, she was looking at the ghost of her father sitting on the gasket, dripping wet, hair plastered down with mud, shirt mostly torn off, pants all of the way torn off, underwear barely on, deep gashes to his head and body, looking grey as pale slate, lips almost black and his beer belly hanging out and over the elastic band of his underwear. With a scowl on his face, he was casually looking over the few people present with a look of total hatred in his blood shot eyes.

A short service was proceeding and this is when they came for him. They seemed to appear from swirling smoke that suddenly enveloped the man, one on either side immediately grabbing his arms. The man screamed in fright and tried to fight them off but they had appeared and held him so quickly that it was to no avail. These two were not novices and had been hunting down the ghosts of evil people for thousands of years. The man was a piece of cake: Didn’t even seem to know they were looking for him.  They were big and black robed with hoods over their heads. Their hands were like claws and a glimpse at their faces showed that they had no faces.

One of them thrust its claws into man’s chest, shattering his ribs. As it ripped out his heart, bone splinters and blood flew everywhere. But the man was a ghost. The blood was black and it hung in the air for a second and then fell as little circlets of dust onto the floor.  The thing weighed the man’s beating heart in its clawed hand but found it too heavy with evil to be allowed into the light. The angel or demon or whatever it was immediately crushed his heart in its claws and what was left drifted down joining  the blood turning to dust that was dripping out of the gaping hole in the man’s chest. All of this spread across the floor like a creeping fog.

In the middle of the man’s screaming and crying and begging for mercy, the gate to hell opened and Alice could hear millions of souls screaming in agony and began to nervously move in her chair. About to enter through the gate, the Angels of death stopped for a moment and turned, one of them bending down staring with no face directly into Alice’s eyes. It wagged its claw like finger in her face and she heard in her mind:

“Don’t say one word little girl or we will be back to get you next.”

They turned back to the gate and just as quickly as it had opened it closed and the two angels of death, still holding onto the hysterical ghost of what had been Alice’s father were gone. All of the stories about the angels of death: You know which ones you always laugh at. Well, they’re true. Think about it.

Alice fainted.

SETTLING IN

After about a week, Cappuccino had recovered enough to start looking around and exploring his new home. Wonderful, the old man had installed a cat door at the bottom of the back door to the house. No more kitty litter, great. To cappuccino, this was the most important part of the house. He walked through the kitchen looking up at an old kitchen table and cabinets that had to be as old as the house and that was at least a hundred years old: Probably older than the old man, if it was possible for anything to be older than the old man.

Cappuccino hit the door with his paw and it swung a little bit and seemed to be safe so he stuck his head through and looked around. He was getting to like this place. In front of him was a twelve hundred square foot garden with every kind of vegetable a person could think off. And the soil was wonderfully soft and black and smelled sweet. Not like the Georgia red clay at the little girl’s house and with that thought, Cappuccino paused.

As he turned his attention to the little girl he could feel her in his heart. Not as a memory but in the now. Her daddy had died and she had been really frightened by some big black ghosts or something but was ok. Cappuccino took a breath in relief as the pictures came flooding through his mind. He missed his little human girl.

Back to the garden. The old man had been working on that soil, adding compost and mulch for forty years and Cappuccino found it wonderful to play and dig in but what’s up with that eight foot stockade fence around the whole garden. No way to ever get over that thing. So that’s what all the noise was about this week.  The fence was brand new. Well Cappuccino couldn’t get out but neither could the coyotes get in. He knew he was going to spend a lot of time out here and he didn’t have to keep his guard up doing it.

Think I’ll go lay down on the old man: Like that guy, almost as much as my little girl. Cappuccino went back into the house looking for him.  The old man was at his desk answering a bunch of e-mails from around the world. His lessons were posted on the web and people from almost every country in the world had written to him asking for advice on their practices or just saying thanks for what he had written.

He must have been at his computer for a while because as usual when he stayed in a single place for a time, all of the flowers and plants in the room will have turned towards him. Then if he forgot to keep the light within himself he would start glowing gold. It was almost like he was his own sun. The old man was simply the coolest guy Cappuccino had ever met.

Reading the pictures in Cappuccino’s mind the old man said: “All right, all right, I’ll go sit on the couch. I need a break anyway.” Pushing his chair away from the desk, he got up and went over to an old but very comfortable over stuffed couch and sat down, laughing all the way. Cappuccino promptly climbed up into the old man’s lap and curled up. As he had come to expect and enjoy Cappuccino started tingling all over. He closed his eyes and went to sleep.

Here’s the thing. Bringing the power of the light of creation into the physical universe, the material world is a brain cell thing and the tingling that Cappuccino was feeling was the result of the power of the light making new connections in his brain so that its power could eventually flow through him. It had worked like that with the old man for the last sixty years and had started the process with the little girl, Alice.  With Cappuccino, well, he was a very special case.

So, spontaneously becoming open to the light might be a natural genetic inclination as with the old man. Or it might be, as with Cappuccino that a soul is born into this world that is so powerful that the brain cell connections start to form because of this. Or the process of making the brain cell connections might begin simply by being close to someone or something so powerful in the light that this initiates the process, as with Alice.

With most, it usually takes a few years of meditation upon the light to start to become open to it and a lifetime’s practice to come to know it well.  For enough time each day, all a person has to do is shut up, be quiet, empty their thoughts and get themselves out of the way so that the power of the light can make the necessary brain cell connections and do its thing.

And another week passed.

THE BEGINNING OF THE REUNION

The tingling in Alice’s head had continued.

“Mommy we have to talk;” Alice said.

“What baby?”

“Mommy, please sit down. We really have to talk, big time.”

 “Honey what’s the problem:” BJ said as she pulled up a chair and sat down, then held Alice’s hands in her own.

“It’s not a problem. It’s just that my little boy cat is still alive and we kind of send each other pictures in our minds of what we are doing and how we are. I know that he has to stay where he is because he is being trained for something but I also know that we need to see each other as much as possible. An old man with a long grey beard that turns gold at night found him and named him Cappuccino.” Alice stated quite matter of factly.

Alice’s mother’s mouth fell open. Then finally remembering to breathe she took a deep one and said “Oh honey, I know you miss him but he’s gone. He was thrown………”

“Mother stop: Please. He may not be here but I see the pictures in his mind just like I see the pictures in your mind.”

“Whaaaat?”

“It all started when I saw the angels of death take daddy to hell. I loved daddy but he wasn’t a nice man and so they took him to hell and I got scared and fainted, remember?” Alice continued.

“Whaaaaaaat?” Alice’s mother stammered, shaking her head to make sure her ears were working properly.

“Mommy, this is getting hard. Think of something with a picture in it; something I have never seen.”

Too afraid for her daughter’s sanity not to play along, BJ remembered a scene from her childhood, up north in Iowa, playing tag with her two cousins under a huge weeping willow tree. She had never told the story to her daughter and Alice had never met the cousins or had even seen a picture of them or had ever seen a weeping willow tree up close and personal. But Alice described the scene and the cousins in better detail than he mother could remember until told about it.

“Do another.” Alice said and describing that memory better than her mother could remember, another and another and another, all in perfect clarity describing people and objects in minute detail that her mother did not remember clearly until being reminded of them.

Alice: “Mommy, my head always went tingly when I held my little boy cat and Cappuccino is his name now. I need to see him mommy, I really do. He’s special and we’re tied together in our hearts. What he feels, I feel. What I feel, he feels. Anyway, I’ll let you think about how to help me find him. He is with that old man.  I’m tired and need go to lie down. “

Alice got up and went to her room. A few minutes later, BJ was still sitting at the table, mouth wide open, trying to figure out what had just happened. But the old man Alice described: That could only be one person on earth and he lived maybe five miles down the road, just on that bend to the river.

BACK TO SETTLING IN

Cappuccino thought the old man’s house was just the greatest. It was built in the early nineteen hundreds by a gentleman farmer with good taste and better money who had actually made his wealth owning a manufacturing plant in Atlanta. The old man might have dismantled and put back every board in the house and updated most everything but he had also kept the old feel of most everything. The house had a wonderful homey smell that Cappuccino loved and new homes with their plastic and pressed everything could never achieve.

If you were driving along the road just rounding the bend to the Yellow river, you would have to look hard to see the ordinary mailbox with L J Doe hand written above the 1862 address. When a person turned into the driveway, the first thing they would notice was that they were driving through a forest before they could even see the house. It wasn’t always that way. Originally it was all farm land but when first buying the property the old man replanted all of the indigenous trees. Now forty years later, it looked like it did before the settlers cut it all down. There was just a narrow gravel driveway leading to maybe five acres of pasture with a beautiful old house in the middle of it all.

In the pasture there were solitary fruit trees every couple of hundred feet also circling the house. There where peach trees, apple, pear, cherry, plum and pecans, more than enough for a family let alone one old man. And about a dozen goats to keep down the grass. The goats were free ranging on the whole property but mostly stayed in the pasture, on the walking path that circled within the property or under the fruit trees for free snacks that always fell when in season. They would often come up on the porch to say hello when the old man was sitting out there. It was a pretty maintenance free place. This is good when you get to be seventy. There was a garden out back with a six foot chain link fence around it, buried a foot deep for the rabbits but sill high enough to keep out the goats. That is up until this week when the stockade fence went up just inside the chain link fence which was still needed for the rabbits and now the coyotes. An old but totally renovated barn was in the back next to the garden. The old man didn’t have to go out much. Most everything he needed and loved in life was right here.

But everybody for miles around knew about him. People from all over the world were always coming and going and would occasionally stop someone local to ask for directions to his place: A regular tourist attraction, so he seemed to the locals. And a welcome one at that because often the people who could afford to travel half way around the world to see him would have big bucks, didn’t mind spreading some of it around and always needed a place to stay until the old man could see them.

Driving up to the two story house you would not see a single power line or utility pole. They were running to the house alright but they were also buried and out of sight. It’s not like the old man couldn’t afford these little amenities; people were always leaving him more money than he knew what to do with. When you heal some billionaire’s child, they can be quite generous. The old man never asked for a dime from anyone but often found packets of money that some rich person, knowing the old man would turn it down, had hid in the bathroom or couch seat or wherever. The old man had been quietly healing people for almost sixty years, here in Georgia for forty years. He would always ask them to not say a word about it, which they always agreed to and then promptly went out and told everyone.

For the last two weeks since Cappuccino’s arrival, the old man had declined seeing anyone and the requests were stacking. They would have to wait, until……. He wanted to give the little fellow a chance to settle in before, well let’s put it this way. The old man could feel the evil growing. Two years before, the light had shown him when and under what circumstances events would happen and now it was all coming to a head and there was still a lot of work to be done in the short amount of time left. There were only two more cards to be laid down for everything to be in place and the first one would be played on the morrow: The second one only a week after.

FIRST CARD

Cappuccino had gotten into his routine. He was up at five AM with the old man and immediately went out back to dig in the dirt. It was still dark but a night light was always on. He looked around, chased a couple of grasshoppers and generally had a good time killing time. After all, it took the old man a while to make and drink his morning cappuccino and do his other chores. But in short order Cappuccino received a picture in his mind that let him know that the old man was sitting on the couch doing his becoming open to the light thing and Cappuccino was welcome to come in and do his curling up in the old man’s lap thing. Which he did for the next three hours which now was their usual morning thing. And here’s the thing. Cappuccino and the old man talked to each other by sending each other pictures in their minds and that is one of the gifts of the lights thing. A picture is worth a thousand words and is also a much faster and more efficient way to communicate than with cumbersome words. You might say that communicating through the pictures in their minds became their thing.

“Well, young man, hope you’re ready for this. Come on let’s go see what’s waiting for us.” The old man said, getting up at the end of three hours and walking towards the front door.

Cappuccino was already half way to the kitchen, “That’s different. Usually he goes and fixes breakfast about now.” he thought to himself as he turned around to follow.

The old man was doing his normal chuckling and humming a silly tune at same time routine as he opened the front door. Smiling, he motioned to Cappuccino to come and take a look.  As he came out of the door Cappuccino immediately ran into a paw that was every bit as big as he was. He looked up and it was like looking at a mountain, except this mountain had jagged scars all over its body. The mountain lowered its head and the two of them looked at each other, enormous eyes to little eyes.

Cappuccino sent a picture to the old man. “I read his heart and he has an unusually good one” and the old man laughed and laughed and finally said “Cappy my man, you’re brilliant. Invite Bueno, the good hearted dog into his new home.”

ABOUT BUENO

He was three years old and in his prime. He would have been considered a wonderful looking hunk of a dog if it hadn’t been for the battle scars that laced their way along his legs and back. Those scars were better than the alternative. He had learned that at all cost it is best to sacrifice a few scars on his back and legs and protect two parts of the body, his throat and stomach.  He had always been a monster of a pit bull but not always a gladiator thrown into the ring to kill or be killed: Although his last owner had called him by that name, Gladiator.

For two and a half years he had a very good life. Back then he was called Macho, short for El Macho Lobo or the big wolf. He was with an Hispanic family, with kids and cats and a lot of play. He was more like a horse to the little ones than a dog. Macho was so big the little ones would literally ride him like one anyway. Either that or he would pull them all over the place when they tied him to a little wagon. It was a wonderful life for a dog that had a heart bigger than his size and his size was enormous.

But a death in the family back home and Macho’s family had to very quickly move back to Brazil to save the family business. Sometimes pets get the worst of it. They gave Macho to a guy who lied and promised to take good care of him but actually turned around and sold him for five hundred dollars to a another man who was part of a dog fighting ring. This guy gave him the name Gladiator and tried to train him to kill. But Gladiator didn’t want to hurt anything. Playing with children was his love.

In the dog fighting ring it’s kill or be killed and considering how the dogs are treated and what they have to do, it’s no wonder that they end up insane. Except for Gladiator. The guy did everything he could think of to make him mean: Beat him constantly, starved him, feed him gun power, (an old wives tale) but nothing worked. The guy would put Gladiator in the ring and Gladiator would go sit down in the corner. If the other dog didn’t attack him that was the end of it. He would defend himself when attacked and he was the absolute best in the ring but he would never go for the kill. Often he would grab the other dog who was attacking him and being so big would simply throw it across the ring and go sit down on the opposite side. If the other dog wasn’t totally insane it would stay where it was.  But the rules are, no going for the kill, no money.

The guy had enough: Like so many other’s that didn’t make the cut, he would take the worthless dog to a river, shoot him, toss him in and the body floats downstream and is never seen again. No dead dogs buried on his own property if the feds show up and no problems.  There just happened to be a river right on the way to his next dog fight a few miles outside of Stone Mountain, the Yellow River. It would be simple. Look on the map, find a back road with a bridge and in a few minutes it’s all over.

Stopping at you know what bridge, the guy went around to the back of the truck and opened and unlocked Gladiator’s cage. There was a forty caliber Glock with hollow points in his back pocket. Gladiator looked around and noticed that there was free space here. Usually he went from cage to cage or cage to ring back to cage. He had been looking for an opportunity to escape and here it was. The guy opened the cage door and in one second it was all over. Gladiator had knocked him down and was in the woods before the guy could get up.

“Let it starve to death: Just as good.” And the guy was off to his destiny, which eventually included the feds and a long jail term.

A jaunt through the woods following a well-worn path that completely circled a friendly looking house and after following the path and ending up back where he had started Gladiator thought: “It’s getting dark. Think I’ll go sit on that porch and see what happens.”

THE LAST CARD LAID DOWN AND WE HAVE THREE OF A KIND

The old man started humming and chuckling at the same time again and walked over to the closet and pulled out an enormous dog cushion, two gigantic bowls and a large bag of dog food. He put the cushion by the couch in a spot he had cleared out the day before and headed for the kitchen where he put down the two bowls, filling one with water and the other with the dog food. Needless to say, the old man had seen Bueno coming. The next day a carpenter showed up and replaced the little cat door with an enormous dog door. Another week passed and Bueno had settled in, he and Cappuccino becoming fast friends, best buds if you will. Bueno didn’t know why but for some reason his head had started tingling. Good feeling though.

It was Saturday morning and the old man was making tea of all things. He never made tea. He loved his cappuccino each morning. Cappy had noticed that the old man had trimmed his beard down to about an inch and had pulled his long silver hair back in a ponytail. Instead of seventy he now looked fifty and his clothes were uncustomarily neat.

“You do want me to look good for our guests don’t you?”

Cappuccino was somewhat puzzled.

“What guests?” he pictured to the old man.

The house did not have a door bell in the front, just a large brass knocker on the door and right at that moment someone started using it. The old man put the tea pot on a platter along with a container of honey and two bone china cups, and still holding them, went to the door.

“My hands are a little full here. Could I get you to go ahead and open the door?  It’s unlocked” he said loudly.

A lady opened the door and beside her stood a little girl.

“Just a second. Let me put this down.” And he walked over to the coffee table on the porch and placed the platter on it.

Coming back to the lady and the little girl, he bent down so that he was eye to eye with Alicel and said:

“He’s in there. He’s been waiting for you. Go ahead, don’t be shy.”

Alice ran into the house.

“Come sit.” The old man motioned to the lady and about that time a loud squeal of delight came from inside the house.

“Let the kids play while we have a chat.”

The ladies mouth was open again as she slid into one of the chairs at the coffee table.

“Jasmine tea isn’t it? And sweet clover honey, I believe.” The old man said as he poured tea into the cups.

“I’ll let you sweeten your own. I’m not quite sure how much you take.” He continued, handing her the container of honey.”

Another squeal of delight came from inside the house.

“Isn’t this just the most beautiful morning” the old man continued. He could see the lady was having a hard time getting herself together and trying to make it as easy as possible for her, he just kept on talking about pleasantries for the next few minutes. Seeing she had finally calmed, he grew silent and gave her a big comforting smile and asked: “Now, what would you like to talk about on such a beautiful morning?”

BJ opened her mouth to speak and then she totally lost it. A river of tears started flowing down her face and she began shaking.

“Have some more tea. There’s no hurry. We have all the time in the world:” The old man said as he refilled her cup and they both sat quietly for a few minutes while the lady tried to compose herself.

In the meantime Alice came out the front door with a huge grin on her face, Cappuccino in one arm and her other arm around Bueno who was about as tall as she was but must have outweighed her by a hundred pounds.

“You have such a wonderful house. Can I go out back and see your garden? It looks so pretty back there:” She asked.

“Sure sweetheart. Have fun and spend as much time looking around in the garden and all through the house as you want. I have the feeling your mother and I will be awhile:”

In lock step, with Alice still holding Cappuccino, the three of them went back into the house headed for the garden.

“Tied at the heart they are: All three of them; tied at the heart.” The old man said as the three left.

Hearing him repeat Alice’s exact words, the tears started flowing again. After a few minutes more, the lady slowly and carefully started to introduce herself and explain why she and the little girl were there to see him.

“My name is Joyce Harrison and my daughter is Alice. I came to see you to see if you can help us. Everybody says you see things that other people can’t and my daughter has started to see things too and I am so worried I don’t know what to do. She says she saw her daddy taken to hell by the angels of death and one of them wagged his finger at her and told her not to tell anyone or they would come back for her but she told me. and I’m really afraid for her. She sees things in my mind that I can’t even see myself and she says that her and her little tabby cat talk to each other by sending pictures in their minds and here he is with you. And she said she was tied at the heart and now you said they were tied at the heart. I just don’t know what to believe any more about anything and I don’t know what to do.”

Tears started flowing again and she began to sob.

The old man smiled and he reached out and held Alice’s mother’s hands for a few moments:

“I am so very pleased to meet you and your daughter:” He started.

“My name is Lawrence Doe but everyone usually calls me Mr. Larry. Like Alice, since my youth, I have seen more deeply into the nature of existence than most. It doesn’t make me or Alice special, not chosen to save the world and not cursed, just a little different than most. And don’t worry about the angels of death.”

“Then they’re real?”

“Oh yes, they are quite real but they only come for the, well, I’m sorry about your husband but they only come for those with bad hearts. Alice has a wonderful heart and is protected by the light of creation. They won’t ever go anywhere near her, ever and I do mean ever. That demon lied, which is what they do best. Alice’s destiny is already sealed to be in the light but you need to do one thing for her. Bring her around to see me” and pausing for a moment “and her two friends,” Lawrence gestured with his thumb to the garden, “as often as you can so that I can help her understand her abilities. This one little thing you need to do: For Alice, will be the most important thing you will ever do for her in her life.”

About an hour’s conversation ensued.

For some reason BJ understood and believed every word Lawrence, formerly the old man, had just spoken and agreed to bring Alice over at least once a week to spend the day on Saturdays: As long as she could spend the day also, just to see that everything’s going ok.

Delighted Lawrence stood up and gestured to the house. “Let me show you the guest rooms upstairs: One for you and one for Alice to take a breath and relax in whenever you come over.  Nobody using them: They could use some company. I think they’re feeling a little lonely.”

BJ got up and went through the front door that Lawrence had held open for her. She didn’t even make it through the door before catching her breath. Not noticing that she was blocking Lawrence from coming into the house she stood in amazement. The living room was a perfect blend of genuine one hundred year old furniture and material with a subtle touch of the new amenities we have come to enjoy. The living room was something right out of her dreams but something she could never afford to do for herself.

Coming to her senses and letting Lawrence in, BJ walked around the room for a good five minutes marveling at how wonderful it was. Over and over she kept saying to herself:” Right out of my dreams. This is right out of my dreams.”

After a few minutes, Lawrence motioned to the staircase.  “Why don’t I show you the guest rooms and we’ll see if you like them. If you don’t we can move stuff around a bit.”

Marveling at the modest but spectacularly hand carved staircase BJ led Mr. Larry upstairs.

He called up to her: “You go ahead. I’m kind of old here and any more it takes me a little bit to get up the stairs.”

“Do you need some help?” BJ said, concerned and turning to come back down.

“No, no, I’m good, just a bit slow: You go ahead and look around. I’ll be up in minute.”

The truth was that he wanted to give Alice’s mother a good amount of time to look around without being bothered. Those two bedrooms, each with gorgeous bathrooms and huge closets, made up the whole second story of the house.

By the time Lawrence made it to the top of the stairs and went down the hallway that separated the two enormous bedrooms, again BJ was standing, seemingly frozen in place, in absolute wonder, mumbling to herself: “These rooms are perfect. They’re right out of my dreams.”

Turning to Lawrence she could barely get it out: “Your whole house is so perfect. Honestly, it is right out of my dreams. I could spend the rest of my life here.”

Lawrence just smiled.

He hadn’t and never would say one word about it to Alice or her mother but he had just spent the last two years remolding every aspect of the house:

Right out of their dreams.

THE PERFECT END TO A DAY

“My lady,” Lawrence said, bowing his most gracious southern bow, “let’s have a picnic.”

“If you are willing, I would like to take you and Alice for a little tour outside and we might as well bring along something to eat.”

Tentatively, BJ answered: “Ok, I think.”

The truth is she had never met anyone she had so quickly been comfortable with but thought it a bit improper to show it.

“Just wonderful, just wonderful.” And Lawrence headed for the kitchen, followed by BJ.

The kitchen was another perfect room; authentic one hundred year old décor with all modern appliances. Lawrence went to an enormous refrigerator and pulled out all the picnic items that just happened to be ready: Sweet mint tea, mustard potato salad, the makings for BLT sandwiches, dill pickles and an array of fresh fruit.  He went to the cupboard and grabbed a waiting picnic basket with plates, glasses, utensils strapped inside and a sheet to lay out which was neatly folded in its bottom. Some dog and cat food in a bag, a couple of bath towels and in short order everything was packed.

Alice, Cappy and Bueno were still playing in the garden.

“You kids hungry,” He called out after opening the kitchen door.

All running back into the kitchen, Alice excitedly replied, “Yeah, I think we all are.” And she paused for a moment and said: “Thank you Mr. Doe. That’s very kind of you.”

He chuckled, “Nobody calls me that. How about calling me Mr. Larry: Deal?”

“Deal,” Alice replied and they hooked pinky fingers to seal the agreement.

Hand in hand or hand in paw or something like that, the whole crew piled out of the front door and headed off through the pasture along a trail that led to the woods. A few goats were curious and tagged along.

“When I replanted all of the trees on the property, I allowed enough room for a path around the whole place. It gets enough light for grass to grow and the goats keep it pretty well groomed so it’s an easy walk. And really that’s my exercise for the day. Usually, just before dusk I take a walk around the whole property: Takes about forty five minutes. It’s funny, in forty years I still enjoy it as much as I ever did:” Lawrence, now Mr. Larry started.

As they approached the trees, he continued:

“Here” pointing in the direction of the creek, “is where my property butts up against the road and the creek comes along on this side and on other side is”, pointing to the west,” the river, where the property continues for about a half mile alongside it. On the creek side my property follows the creek straight down for about a half mile to where the creek makes a sharp bend at the end of the property and then flows another half mile along the back of the property into the river. The creek flows year round, so with the river, the creek and the road, it’s kind of like my own little island here. There’s a picnic table down at that end of the property where the creek makes that bend and that’s where we are headed.”

As they entered the forest, it was like walking along a nature trail at a national park, only better in some ways. Mr. Larry had planted blueberries and raspberries along the bank of the creek and the early varieties were just now in season, so everyone took their time snacking on the fresh fruit and admiring the truly beautiful scenery along that part of the path. Cappy and Bueno tried some of it but fresh fruit was definitely not their thing. The creek was gurgling around the rocks, the sun was out but somewhat shaded by the trees, a fresh smell was in the air from the dew that had lingered and it was still early enough in the season to be a very comfortable spring day.

Alice was running around, checking out every little thing, Cappy was too small to get off the path but seemed to enjoy watching Alice and also Bueno who was bulldozing through every bush he could find. In short order, they came to an opening sitting on a high spot along the creek with a brick barbeque and a picnic table with a canopy over it, positioned just at the right place to have a perfect view of the creek and of a little wooden bridge that spanned a another little creek that ran off into the woods somewhere. There were blueberries, raspberries, other native to Georgia brambles and wild flowers everywhere.

So they laid out all of the fickens and Alice, Bueno and Cappy played in the two creeks and got as wet and dirty as they wanted to be, leaving the Mr. Larry and Alice’s mother to talk some more.

“Well Mrs. Harrison, What would you like to talk about?” Mr. Larry offered.

“Mr. Doe, first, please call me BJ. It’s for Belinda-Joyce and all of my friends call me that:” She replied.

“I would be honored to be so considered and if you will call me Lawrence or like Alice, Mr. Larry, I would be extremely pleased on top of it. Now, why don’t you tell me about yourself and Alice and then I’ll tell you about me. I’m old, so my story might take a while.”

BJ proceeded to tell the story of her life and Alice’s. The old man, now Lawrence to BJ and Mr. Larry to Alice, asked questions and was truly interested. They talked about her’s and Alice’s hopes and dreams, feelings and about an hour passed of a most pleasant, heartfelt conversation.

“Bout noon time; you kids hungry yet?” Mr. Larry called out.

Alice and Bueno made it up to the picnic table first, both wet and muddy.

“Now that’s how kids are supposed to look:” Mr. Larry laughed and pulled out a couple of waiting towels. By then, Cappy had made it back, just as neat and clean as when he had left the house. He had a lifetimes worth of wet and muddy a few weeks earlier and wanted no part of that mess ever again.

They pulled out the ice tea, Mr. Larry made the BLT sandwiches, BJ spooned out the potato salad and Alice handed out the fruit and put down the dog and cat food. Laughing, carrying on and genuinely enjoying their new found friendship, they finished off all the food and then spread out a blanket on the grass and everyone went belly up to the sun for the next half hour.

Finally coming around, BJ smiled: “I showed you mine, life that is, time for you to show me yours.” And Alice and her mother laughed and looked to Mr. Larry.

“It seems I’ve got an audience:” He started.

Now, there are different ways to understanding things and communicating. Alice’s mother was listening to the Mr. Larry’s words that painted pictures in her mind. Cappy didn’t understand a single word spoken but understood better by looking at the actual pictures in Mr. Larry’s mind. Alice understood best of all by looking at the pictures in Mr. Larry’s mind and at the same time listening to the words spoken. Bueno hadn’t yet been around long enough for the connections to be made in his head to see any pictures and didn’t understand a single word but sure loved the company.

“I was born seventy years ago. Never knew my mother. She abandoned me on the day I was born and I spent the next twelve years in an orphanage. Not much to speak of here.”

Alice lowered her eyebrows and squinted at him.

“Any way at twelve when the light came to me I decided to leave and………”

“Stop, please Mr. Larry and tell her the whole story:” Alice said.

Chuckling, “Well, you must have seen it all. You tell your mother the whole story. Let’s see how far you have progressed:” Mr. Larry replied.

“Mr. Larry was twelve and he still wet the bed and they beat him all the time and made him where diapers and the workers made fun of him and stuff. All of the other kids made fun of him too.

My best friend still wets the bed and I am going to tell her about how great you are and that she will grow out of it in a couple of years or so. If that’s ok with you, Mr. Larry?”

Mr. Larry gave her a thumbs up.

“How did you….?” BJ started but seeing the squint on Alice’s face told her she already knew the answer and she ended her question without asking it.

“Any how, when the light came to him, Mr. Larry only being twelve and not having a teacher, started telling everyone about his wonderful experiences with the light. And momma, this is why I need to come over here every week and learn stuff: Mostly what not to do. Anyway, everybody thought he was crazy and they were going to throw him in the loony bin and then the light came to him in his messed up self. There was a rip in the heavens and a golden light in the form of a cloud poured out of it and wrapped itself around him and rocked him back and forth like he was a baby in its arms. It comforted him and made him feel good about stuff and told him to get the blankety blank out of there and he did.”

Alice gave the old man a thumbs up and he returned it saying: “Child, you are so much better than I had ever hoped. It astounds me.”

Mr. Larry continued: “Ok, when the light came to me I went to the library and read everything I could find on it. When I read a biography on St. Clement, a quote stuck in my mind that I still remember to this day, word for word.”

It said: “He set out from Greece and travelled through southern Italy, Palestine, and finally Egypt, seeking everywhere the society of Christian teachers.”

“When the light told me to get the, what was that, the blankety blank out of there, that’s what I decided to do, to see what others had experienced around the world. So I went to San Francisco and got hired on to a merchant ship going to Japan. I told them that I was eighteen. They didn’t care. They weren’t going to pay me anything anyway.

I abandoned ship in Japan without a dime. That was a trip but I finally ended up in a Zen monastery for the next two years. “

Alice interrupted: “And they never took outsiders until they saw Mr. Larry but they took him in a heartbeat. It was the first time, in what, two thousand years.”

Mr. Larry continued: “After two years, I decided to go to China to see what their experiences were, so I………”

Now on a roll and showing off, just a tad, Alice jubilantly expressing her self-pleasure: “Stop, Tell mommy the whole story.”

Laughing Mr. Larry said: “You tell it.”

Alice: “There was this general with a sickly son. Japan and China were fighting since what, 1933.”

She got a thumbs up from Mr. Larry.

“He healed the son from an incurable illness and because of this the general smuggled Mr. Larry into China and gave him a boat load of money to boot.”

Mr. Larry continued: “Can’t seem to hide anything. So I went to China to see what their experience with the light was and I ended up in a Taoist monastery in southern China. “

“And they never took outsiders in what, the last 4,000 thousand years but they took Mr. Larry in a heartbeat:” Alice added.

“Tell mommy about the girl you healed. She did chase you everywhere.”

“Lord help me. I was in China for a few years and visited several monasteries.  There was this war lord with a daughter with an incurable disease and I sort of healed her. The war lord helped me to get to Tibet.”

“And gave you another boat load of money.” Alice added, barely containing herself.

“Yes, well, the light never said we have to be poor to be open to it. So I went to Tibet and ended up in a monastery for a few years and then spent some time with a Tibetan yogi for a while in his cave.

By then it was 1949 and China had just invaded Tibet and took it over. The Dalai Lama fled to Nepal and I followed and I eventually ended up in a number of caves with some Indian yogis in the Himalayas.

After this……”

“Wait, wait, wait, waaaaaaaaaait: Momma you got to hear this.  In ten thousand years the Lama’s had never revealed their secrets to any outsider and in one heartbeat some high mucky muck lama made a decree and all of their secrets were given to Mr. Larry on a platter: The most totally awesome thing on earth, ever and I do mean ever with a big E:” Alice interjected.

“Actually it was the Dalai Lama who made the decree but besides that, I was taught some of the practices of the yogis in India and then went to Africa to…………”Mr. Larry started.

“Stoooooooooooooooop. You didn’t mention the Maharaja’s daughter you healed:” Alice pleaded.

“Ok, I healed the Maharaja’s daughter from a birth defect and he gave me safe passage to Africa.”

“And another boat load of money and you didn’t tell mamma about the affair.”

“I was a young man and there are some things too private to share.”

“If you say so.” Then Alice to Cappy: “You get this?”

Cappy to Alice: “Babe, I got it all.”

“Next, I went to Africa and spent some time with the shamans of several different tribes.”

Alice to Cappy: “Do we need to tell momma about the affair with the chief’s daughter?”

 “You’re obsessed and I’m too young for this. I pass:” Cappy replied.

“After this I spent a few years with the Sufi’s in the Arabian Peninsula: Mr. Larry continued.

“And cured the sheik’s only son and got another boat load of money.” Alice put in again.

“Then to Greece to look at the Greek Orthodox Churches views:” Mr. Larry started again.

Really on her roll and just as happy and laughing as she could be, Alice said: “Momma, They don’t ever talk to anybody ever, ever, ever, never but they opened up all of their secrets to Mr. Larry.”

“Anyway, I visited the monasteries in Europe for a bit and then heard of this monk in
Georgia who was teaching praying from the heart, that I wanted to meet, so that’s how I got here.  By then I had found that all of the holy men of all the faiths from around the world were basically saying the same thing. I had spent almost twenty years and had circled the whole planet and it all was the same message, so I decided to settle here.”

Alice, trying but not succeeding in sounding really serious: “True but not so true. The Light told him to settle here so he did.”

“How’d I do Mr. Larry?”

Laughing again, Mr. Larry said: “Girl you are simply wonderous, and the bestus that I have everus seen.”

 “You said, all the same thing. I don’t understand:” BJ asked.

“On the surface of all the different spiritual systems around the world, it seems like everyone is saying something different.  But underneath, the holy men of each spiritual system, those who truly know, all say the same two things.” Mr. Larry explained.

 “And that is?” BJ asked again.

Mr. Larry clenched his fist and raised it to his heart. With his other hand, he reached for the picture of tea and poured it into his glass until it spilled over.

“Alice, what does it mean?”

Alice got up and went over to Mr. Larry and took his clenched fist and gently opened it.

“First, open your heart to the light. It will not come to a closed heart:” She said.

“Close but one must open their heart to the light and everything in the light: Things you like and things you don’t like.  There is no us and them. We are all here on this planet together. There is only all of us in the light. We must open our hearts to life and to all existence or the light will not come…….. And?” He asked.

Alice took Mr. Larry’s full glass of tea and poured it on the ground.

“As you open your heart to the light and to all of life, empty your mind for enough time each day, so that the light can fill. It cannot fill a full cup. The light cannot fill a mind with its presence while the mind is full of its own thoughts. We need to become like empty vessels for the light to fill our minds with its presence. That’s all there is to the spiritual path and all there will ever be. Everything else is just …uh…What’s the proper word? Fluff: That’s it. Everything else is just fluff.”

BJ’s mouth fell open. That had been happening a lot lately.

“How did you…” she started.

“I just pulled it out of Mr. Larry’s head. It’s really quite easy:” Alice replied matter of factly.

Again laughing, Mr. Larry said: “Well, that’s it for my teaching. Alice already knows more than most will ever know and can see more deeply into a person’s mind than most will ever see within themselves.”

Bowing in mock reverence, he asked: “Miss Wisdom, do you have anything else to say?”

“Yeah, you were so superlicously cute. No wonder all the girls were chasing you. And with all the money those rich guys threw at you, you must be a ga-zillionaire. How come you never got married? You did ask me if there was anything else.”

“Guess I’ve been saving myself.” Mr. Larry answered, laughing.

And then they were all laughing with Cappy rolling over on his back with all four paws scratching the sunshine. Bueno didn’t know what it was all about but enjoyed the show. It was almost dusk. Nobody could believe how fast the afternoon had past. Everybody pitched in and soon the picnic items were cleaned up. They had another wonderful walk as they headed back to the house: Alice with one arm holding Cappy and the other around Mr. Larry’s waist. Alice’s mother walked as close as she could to him without seeming improper. Bueno was still bulldozing every bush he could find.

Reaching the car, Alice’s mother gave Mr. Larry a heartfelt hug and thanked him for opening up his house and heart to them. She walked around to the driver’s side and with Bueno nuzzling her for attention she started scratching his head. During this, Alice motioned to Mr. Larry to come close and when he did she whispered; “We start packing tomorrow?”

“No, sweetheart. Don’t tell your mother until one hour before. Trust me on this, ok?” He whispered back.

With a big smile on her face, Alice gave thumbs up and hopped into the car.

BJ slide into the driver’s seat. They all waved and Alice and her mother were off.

On the way home: “You’re already in love with him momma. Did you know that?”

“What?”

“Even if you can’t see it yet, I can see the spark in your heart and I think it’s superlicous. Oh, by the way, I don’t know if Mr. Larry can see it in himself yet but I saw that same spark in his heart. You grownups are so slow. Y’all just need to get on with and work it out.”

Alice started humming a happy tune and a distant look and a smile came across BJ’s face.

ROUTINE STUFF

The normal daily routine for Mr. Larry, Cappy and Bueno began to unfold. Up at five AM; meditate from six to nine AM, with Cappy in his lap and Bueno at his feet. The people that the old man had been putting off seeing for the last few weeks started coming in during the early part of the day and then the old man would do his chores until just before dusk when he, Cappy and Bueno would take a forty five minute walk around the property. After, they would all chill out for the rest of the night. Alice and her mother would come on Saturdays and Mr. Larry would save a special guest or two on Saturday mornings so that Alice could learn from the discussions. Mostly she would compare what people said to what was actually in their minds and discuss this with Mr. Larry and Cappy when they left.

Mr. Larry would conduct his interviews in his library. This room had its own access from the outside on the West side of the house. The driveway wrapped around that side of the house, so those coming to see him could go directly there without disturbing the rest of the house; BJ that is. That side of the house had its own smaller porch with chairs and coffee tables so that even those waiting to be seen could be comfortable or sometimes entertained outside. The first thing a person would notice when coming up to the west side of the house was the door leading to the library, which was solid oak with a full length stained glass window within it. The stained glass window was taken from a burnt down church in England and was about five hundred years old. With tiny prisms within the glass at the crown of thorns that spread different colored lights throughout the room and a biblical scene with Jesus on a cross, it was a truly spectacular sight as the late afternoon sun would shine through it.

The library itself was not huge, maybe twenty by twenty, with books from floor to ceiling and one hundred year old hand carved shelves.  There was a solid oak door to the rest of the house straight through and another to a small half bathroom to the left and a small reading table in the far left corner.  In the center of the room, there were a couple of comfortable overstuffed chairs set diagonally to each other and facing the stained glass door. These were separated by a large round coffee table with fluted legs and hand carved clawed feet. This was set under a small antique brass chandler. Behind cabinet doors was a small frig with drinks and a coffee maker.  A fifteen foot diameter square Persian rug lay on a hard wood oak floor and another overstuffed chair rest in the opposite corner from the reading table, completing the room. The facing of the chairs allowed Alice to sit at the reading table, supposedly reading but usually unnoticed by those sitting in the chairs unless they purposely turned in her direction. Cappy would lie on the chair in the corner and Bueno would lie on his dog cushion beside it.

From all over the world, students and those needing help or healing started to come as it was before. Mr. Larry would usually see no more than one or two people a day. A few uneventful but for Mr. Larry and BJ getting to know each other, thoroughly enjoyable weekends passed and in that same time, Alice, Cappy and Bueno were thrilled at getting to better know each other, although with a somewhat different set of dynamics than with Alice’s mother and Mr. Larry. In due time Bueno came into his own, starting to see and send pictures and joining the conversation.

THE PRISSY CLUB

Trying not to seem too obvious, Alice had just filled a suitcase with another full load of everything she could put into it. It didn’t work.

“Honey, if you keep taking all of your clothes over to Mr. Larry’s, you won’t have any left here at our house;” BJ said.

“Uh, momma, school is going to be out next week and I figured I would be spending a lot of time over to Mr. Larry’s so you wouldn’t have to pay for a baby sitter which I’m too old for any who.

I will be so…..ooooo glad to take a break from school.”

“But I thought you really liked school? Is that Priscilla Dollar girl giving you trouble again?”

Frowning, Alice said: “She has been on my mind all morning: Her and her daddy both. I can’t seem to get them out of my head and I don’t know why. It’s like I’m being haunted. It’s just that all year it seems like the kids have been doing nothing but jockeying for position to kiss her butt. Maybe it’s getting to me.”

“Alice!”

“Sorry Momma but that’s what’s going on:” Alice continued.

“Every year in school that I can remember, kids were just kids. We all had our special friends that we hung around with but no group of kids tried to tell everybody else what to do or that you weren’t as good they were because you weren’t rich or snow white or didn’t belong to such and such church.

Priscilla Dollar just polluted the whole class. It’s really disgusting. I don’t know how we can be so stupid.”

“Honey, adults are just as stupid. Probably worse, because we should know better.”

“Miss Prissy boasted to everyone that the only reason she was in public school was because her daddy wanted to show that they were like everyone else; just normal people. You know what the truth is?” Alice asked.

“What honey?”

“Her daddy, the one and only bishop Eddie Dollar, with three churches that he personally owns and twenty thousand followers, was so cheap that he shut down the church school just because it was losing a little money. He won’t allow anything he does to lose money. And as rich as he is he was still too cheap to put Priscilla into a private school. Course the only private school she felt was good enough for her cost thirty thousand dollars a year.”

“How do you know all that?” BJ asked looking truly baffled.

“It was in Miss Prissy’s head. Reading her is about as hard as reading a comic book.”

“But how could one little girl pollute a whole class?”

“Cause were so stupid. Priscilla came in and formed her prissy club; all six of them go to her daddy’s church.  They act like they are better than everyone else and they tell everybody what to do. Then you have all these wannabies who will do anything she wants so that someday they can be in her prissy club. They’re the ones who do all of her dirty work.

 “Dirty work?” BJ asked.

“Putting kids down, making really cruel fun of those Miss Prissy doesn’t like and even playing dirty tricks on the rest if they don’t suck up and act like the Prissy club wants them too. And my best friend, Maria, pees the bed and they found out and on top of that she’s Mexican: Oh momma it’s been really terrible for her. And then there’s my other best friend Tim. He’s brilliant but he’s black. He’s so smart they put him two grades ahead but he’s so small with big glasses that they make fun of him all the time and push him around. And I’m not going to kiss Miss Prissies butt and my best friends are black and Mexican so to the Prissy club that makes me a traitor, the absolute worst of the worst thing anybody can be. Well, they can eat boogers. I don’t care what they think.”  

 “Why haven’t you told me about this before now?” BJ asked.

“Because I knew what you would do and right now I can see what’s in your mind momma but you can’t take me out of school and leave my best friends to them. You just can’t. I wouldn’t have said anything about her this morning but for some reason, I can’t seem to get the Bishop and Miss Prissy out of my head. ”

“It’s hard to believe that kids would act like that.”

“That’s why they can get away with it. But, thank goodness, in a week it’s over for this year. I’m not going to worry about next year until it comes. By then, maybe Mr. Bishop Wonderfulness himself will put his daughter in private school in Siberia or someplace.  I can always hope. At the moment Mr. Larry is waiting for us. That should cheer things up and clear the roaches out of my mind.” Saying everything that was on her mind, Alice went to the bathroom.

FIELD TRIP

A couple of minutes pass and Alice came out of the bathroom and continued looking for things to stuff into her suitcase. Her mother was unsuccessfully trying to chill.

For the moment, getting over the Prissy Club BJ said: “I have been thinking. We can’t impose on Mr. Larry all the time. It’s not, well, proper. I don’t even know if Mr. Larry can have us or even wants us over to his place like that this summer.”

“Momma, don’t you know that Mr. Larry is flat out in love with you: Actually with us. He has waited his whole life for you and me to come into it.  And you are just as deeply in love with him as he is with you. Don’t even try to deny it, cause it won’t do you any good. We give him more happiness than he has ever had in his whole life.”

“But…….”

“Momma, Y’all just need to get on with it.”

“But you’re only now just eleven. You are not old enough to hold this kind of a conversation with me. I am still your mother, you know.”

“I am really trying to be a good little girl but it’s, it’s really hard being little when my mind is so big and I see so deep into stuff. Then the light just blows me all over the place. You know what it feels like? It feels like I’m being carried by a flood that I can’t control and I don’t know where it is going to take me. If it wasn’t for Mr. Larry trying to help me to sit on top of all of it and control where it’s going, I don’t know what I would do.”

“Well, I know what you should do. Put your stuff in the car. Mr. Larry said he wants to take us on a field trip this weekend. He said there is a lieutenant Rathbone you need to meet.”

“Uh who?” Alice asked.

“Don’t ask. I just drive. You may be in a flood but I’m in a fog. I don’t know what’s going on. But I do know that it’s the most alive I have felt in my whole life.”

“Me too momma; scary sometimes but me too.”

They gave each other a deep meaningful hug, jumped into the car and drove off to see the Mr. Larry. As they drove up to the house, Mr. Larry, as usual, was waiting on the porch with a cappuccino for himself and a steaming pot of jasmine tea with a container of sweet clover honey on the side, both sitting on the coffee table, ready as usual for the lady.

There were the routine hugs, petting, scratching behind the ears, belly rubs and all the rest that comes from those who have missed and are truly glad to see each other. On purpose to leave the two alone, soon Alice was off playing in the pasture with Cappy and Bueno leaving Mr. Larry and BJ in an on the surface casual conversation. But Alice liked the flames burning underneath it all. She was really pleased with how everything was working out but was coming to realize that adults had to take their time and feel their way into what she figured Her momma and Mr. Larry should just jump into and get on with.

After the casual conversation waned BJ asked: “How is Alice coming along? Even with her troubles in school, she seems happier than I have ever seen her. But earlier she said the light was blowing her all over the place.”

“I am totally awe struck by her. I have been around a lot and I do mean a lot, like all over the world type of a lot. I have never seen anyone with the power that she has. Not at her age. She is just so incredible:” Mr. Larry began.

“But; there is always a but to everything?” BJ asked.

“But she is so very young to have this kind of power that it worries me if I will be able to help her gain control of it before she gets into trouble. It’s not the light that is blowing her all over the place. It’s her own mind that is infused with the power of the light.”

“But she only sees into people’s minds. All she has to do is be quiet about it:” BJ asked.

“That’s only the tip of the iceberg. You haven’t seen her lose control yet and that is bound to happen. Thoughts are real things and thoughts with the flowing and power of the light behind them are incredibly powerful. That’s all that sacred or even cursed objects are; the thoughts of some saint with the power of the light wrapped around an item that can heal or the thoughts of some devil worshipper with power of darkness wrapped around an item that can cause illness or even death. If a person with this kind of power, either for good or evil, can’t control their thoughts, Lord help everyone and everything around them.”

There was a couple of minutes pause in the conversation as both seemed to be examining their own thoughts.

“This summer I really need to spend a couple of hours with Alice, early every single morning before her mind has a chance to start running all over the place. It’s what all untrained minds do later in the day. I can begin to help her learn how to calm and control her mind but it will take time and effort on her part to do it. It took me many years and most of my students never do learn control. But Alice has got to. With her power, she simply has no choice.

“You would do that: Spend that much of your time with her?” BJ asked.

“It would not only be a privilege for me but it’s also an obligation that I have to the light.”

“But I can’t just let her live over here all summer without me. It wouldn’t be proper. I would have to stay with her and I do have a living to make. It just seems impossible time wise and I can’t bring myself to impose on you like that:”

“You wouldn’t be. It would be my pleasure. And besides we have a week until schools out. I’m sure we can come up with something. Let’s not worry about it today.“

After a couple more minute’s silence, Mr. Larry asked: “Are you ready to go see Lieutenant Rathbone? I have all of the picnic items packed and ready. Then this afternoon, I would like Alice to meet Sister Agnes.”

 “Picnic items to see a soldier; then we are going to see a nun. Sounds like a full day. Guess we should get started:” BJ said.

BJ called to Alice and Alice and her crew came running up to the house accompanied by a few goats.

 “With this full load, I think we are going to need the van. Give me a minute and I will be right back. Mr. Larry said.

He left and went down to the barn which was in the back on the left side of the garden. It was now converted into a garage. He drove back in a white full sized custom van that would seat eight with luggage comfortably.

Joking BJ asked: “What else have you got hiding back there?”

No answer was needed or given as the picnic items were put in the back of the van and cat, dog and people found their places inside. From the driveway they took a right turn, crossed the bridge, went down a half mile and took a left at the sign that read (To the Yellow River Battlefield and Confederate Army Cemetery). This was a gravel road that paralleled the river on the opposite side of where Alice had experienced her little episode with the squirrel. They took another left and were in the grounds of a very small state park.

To the right was a six foot rectangular granite monument with a brass plaque describing the Yellow River Bridge battle of 1864. A lieutenant Jasper Rathbone had been ordered to hold the bridge or if he couldn’t, to blow it up before the Union troops could use it as  crossing for their wagons and artillery in General Sherman’s military campaign which came to be called his march to the sea. It explained that two hundred plus confederate soldiers died at this spot, unsuccessfully trying to defend or blow up the bridge and that the vast majority of the confederate soldiers who died at this point in the war were barely clothed half starving old men and children.

To the left was a marker stating that at this spot two hundred unknown confederate soldiers were buried in a mass grave.

BJ gave Mr. Larry a puzzled look and asked: “The lieutenant you are bringing us to meet has been dead for a hundred fifty years?”

 “Pretty much.” Mr. Larry answered.

Alice’s, Cappy’s and Bueno’s eyes were darting everywhere.

Finally Alice asked: “They can’t really shoot us can they?”

“Alice, we are absolutely and perfectly safe:” Mr. Larry said.

 “Wha……at are you guys talking about and why are Cappy and Bueno so freaked out?” BJ asked.

Leaning forward “This will only open your third eye for a little bit but it should be long enough for you to see what’s going on:” Mr. Larry said.

 “You mean, like that eye on the one dollar bill:” BJ asked.

“Exactly like that and everyone has a spiritual eye. Usually it’s dormant.” Mr. Larry replied as he reached over and gently placed his forefinger about an inch above the bridge of BJ’s nose.

The scene changed in her mind.

From a peaceful early summer day it turned into mid fall with artillery explosions all around. Gunshots were everywhere. Bullets were zinging through where they had just laid out their picnic items. There were trenches circled around a bridge that had suddenly appeared. These trenches were full of old men and boys, some dead, some shot and dying and many crying out in pain or fear. Carnage was everywhere.

A soldier, in a tattered grey uniform with a gunshot through his chest was marching up and down the trench line exhorting the old men and boys to be strong and keep the faith. He seemed totally oblivious to the bullets zinging around and through him.

“You, young man, be strong! We can hold those damn Yankees off! They’re not going to take over my bridge.

Soldier; put that log back on that berm! We need more protection!

You, yes you; pull him down into the trench! He’s dead!

Mr. Larry called out: “Lieutenant; …………….lieutenant Rathbone, over here.”

Turning, lieutenant Rathbone said: “Mr. Doe, it’s nice to see you again but I’m in the middle of a battle here and you brought a woman and child with you. Are you out of your mind?

“Here, take this white flag (which Mr. Larry pulled out of nothingness) and let the Yankees know that there are civilians in the way. Looks to me like they need a break. I’ll bet they call a temporary truce. Give it a try.”

Lieutenant Rathbone did just that and all firing immediately stopped.

“Damn Yankees” the lieutenant said as he sat down on the spread out picnic blanket. “They’re going to burn down the whole state. You know, in Atlanta, they burned everything down; every home and business burnt down to the ground but the hospitals and churches. Damn Yankees, may they go to hell. Pardon me mam, I’m a little upset. I didn’t mean to offend.

Somewhat bemused BJ answered: “No offence taken lieutenant.”

Again from out of nowhere Mr. Larry handed the lieutenant a lit cigar saying: “Cuban, simply the best.”

The lieutenant leaned back on his elbows thoroughly enjoying smoking his cigar. “Damn Yankees” he muttered.

Alice sent a picture message to Mr. Larry: “Lieutenant Rathbone doesn’t know he’s dead. Why don’t you just tell him he’s dead and end this silliness?

 “Already did that. He doesn’t want to believe it:” Mr. Larry answered.

“OK, pull him out of his daydream and push him into the light. I know you can do it.”

“Ah, now you have touched on why I brought you here. The point being that we have no right to forcibly change another’s reality and couldn’t if we wanted. This principal applies to every single person on earth because everyone lives in their own reality and believes something different. Lieutenant Rathbone still believes he is fighting the Civil War but that is not really too much different than anyone else’s reality. Without the light for its foundation no person’s reality is even close to being accurate and that’s what I wanted you to think about today.”

After a half hours pleasant conversation with lieutenant Rathbone, they said their goodbyes, promised to see him again if he didn’t get killed before, picked up their items and left for home.

On the way home BJ asked: “Does the lieutenant relive the battle every day?”

“Every single day. He’s stuck in it and doesn’t want to get out of it.” Mr. Larry replied.

“Forever?”

“Not forever. The trauma of his death will eventually wear off and when that happens he’ll find the light. He really does have a good heart.”

There was a pause in the conversation as they drove home.

Then Mr. Larry continued: “Now for the other side of reality. This afternoon we have an appointment with Sister Agnes. She is a dear friend who has been practicing the Prayer of the Heart for forty years and rests in the light continuously. This state is called continuous non-duality. But first let’s go home and relax for a couple of hours.”

THE BISHOP EDDIE DOLLAR

They drove into the driveway and Mr. Larry immediately put on the brakes saying: “Well, this is enough to ruin our day. When we get back to the house everyone assume your normal positions in the study. I’ll try to get this over with as soon as possible.

As they started down the driveway again everybody was looking at him in bewilderment; that is until they saw a brand new silver Bentley, chromed out to the hilt, with the letters REV EDE on the license plate.

Alice mumbled to her mother in disgust: “Now I know why I couldn’t get them out of my mind this morning. I hope Miss Prissy isn’t with him.”

“She’s not:” Mr. Larry put in. “The bishop is all I feel.”

Everyone pilled out of the van with Alice, Cappy and Bueno heading for the study leaving BJ and Mr. Larry with the picnic items to take in. With BJ on the porch with some picnic items, the door to the Bentley opened and out stepped the bishop Eddie Dollar stating: “I would like to speak with Mr. Doe.”

“He’s on the other side of the van:” BJ answered as she went into the house.

Circling to the other side of the van, Bishop Eddie Dollar went up to Mr. Larry: “Er hum, I am Bishop Eddie Dollar. Perhaps you have heard of me.”

“Yes, I have heard of you reverend Dollar; what can I do for you?”

“We seem to have a communication problem and I have a wonderful opportunity for you. I am a very busy person but I decided to drive over here today. My secretary seems to be unable to get a definitive answer from you:”

“Is no not that definitive?”

“Yes, well I’m certain it was a simple misunderstanding that secretaries often make but as two men of special spiritual callings, I thought it best if we could talk eye to eye, so to speak. Just a few minutes and we can get it all sorted out to our mutual benefit.” And Bishop Dollar patted his shirt pocket that sported a large bulging envelope.

“Very well, if we can get this settled permanently but I have an appointment shortly so I don’t have much time.” And motioning to the side of the house Mr. Larry said: “Let’s go around to the study.”

As they entered the study, Alice, Cappy and Bueno were in place and not even noticed by the bishop.  As the two sat down in the chairs at the coffee table, Bishop Dollar reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out an envelope, opened it and spread out one hundred one hundred dollar bills.

Alice started giggling and bishop Dollar turned in her direction.

“I’m sorry, this is a funny read:” she said holding up a book that just happened to be upside down.

 “Please continue, Reverend Dollar:” Mr. Larry said.

Alice, sending a thought to Cappy and Bueno: “This fool is trying to bribe Mr. Larry, a ga-zillionare, with pocket change. This is the funniest thing I have seen.”

 “Let me tell you a little about myself:” Bishop Dollar began.

“I was not always a spiritual man. Yes I was a grave sinner before I saw the light…………….

Alice again: “He was a con man as a kid, found a better con as a preacher and has never seen the light. This guy is hilarious.”

………..And bishop Dollar’s voice started to tremor in that special voice that some preachers speak in when they want to sound especially sanctified……………”But I did seeeeeee the light as a young man. I was caaaaalled………..:” he continued in his sanctified voice: “Yes, called to a spiritual journey to gather people together to be saaaaaved from the evils of an eeeeevil world………………”

Alice sending thoughts: “He was called to fleece the flock. I’m dying here. He is so funny. He reminds me of a bandy rooster strutting his chicken stuff.”

Bishop Dollar continued in this vein for a few more minutes causing Mr. Larry to noticeable yawn and look at his watch.

Seeing this, Bishop Dollar immediately went to the bottom line.

“This summer’” he continued, “I have been called to a healing work and I would like to give you the privilege of leading these services with me. You don’t have to say a single word. I will conduct the services. But together, both of us laying our hands at the same time on the ill………(Still in his sanctified voice.)………the neeeeeeedy, all those coming for comfort, we can bring the light of hope to a dark world of despair and……………

Alice barely containing herself and sending thoughts again: “The one and only Mr. wonderful bishop Eddie Dollar wants to bribe Mr. Larry to heal the flock he is fleecing and then he’s going to take all the credit for it and make more money. I’m dying here. I’m just dying here.”

Cappy to Alice: “If you think this man is in any way funny, you aren’t looking very deep into his mind. Get over yourself and look deeper. Bueno, do you see what I see?”

 “Yah, but most humans I’ve met are sickos. What’s the big deal?” Bueno answered undisturbed.

“That’s only because most of the people that you have met were involved in dog fighting. They’re all sickos. Would you guys please shut up so I can take a deeper look?” Alice said.

 “You are the one with diarrhea of the thoughts. Girl control yourself:” Looking in Alice’s direction, Bueno replied.

“Whateverrrrrr.” Alice threw out.

The Bishop Dollar continuing: “I know it must be hard for you stuck out here in the country with no income to speak of and I thought I would bring this offering as a down payment on our upcoming relationship……………

Suddenly Alice was literally fuming: “Oh, I’m sick. I am just sick to the bone. This guy is a pervert. All his preaching about everybody going to hell who is different and doesn’t tow the line and he’s the one who should be in hell. I can’t stay in the same room with this…..this thing. I….I can’t”

Alice got up and started to leave the room when bishop Dollar turned to see what the noise was about. They looked at each other close up and eye to eye. Alice was shaking in fury. Her teeth clenched and her eyes had narrowed to slits. If looks could kill……..Come to think of it, her looks could kill. Eddie Dollar grabbed his heart and fell over dead.

 “Sweetheart……..honey………Alice, you need to let go of his heart. Please, Alice, let him go:” Mr. Larry softly pleaded.

Realizing what she had just done Alice broke down into gasping sobs and ran from the room wailing: “I killed him. Mommy I killed Eddie Dollar. I didn’t mean it. I got mad.”

Running up the stairs to her mother’s bedroom, sobbing and wailing she threw her arms around her mother crying: “I killed Eddie Dollar. I’m going to jail. Then the angels of death are going to take me to hell. Oh……….Oh, what am I going to do?”

Sobbing and carrying on Alice lost it and slumped into a heap. In shock, all that her mother could do was to hold her daughter and pray for the best.

Meanwhile, Mr. Larry placed his hand over Eddie’s heart and in a moment’s time Eddie woke up squealing like a pig.

“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee: She’s a witch and you’re all devil worshippers!”

Eddie grabbed his ten thousand dollars off of the coffee table and flew out of the room tripping on the stairs to the porch and landing spread eagle in the gravel ruining his five hundred dollar Armani silk shirt. He was so flustered he couldn’t figure out how to get up and for a few moments seemed more like a frantic fish trying to swim his way to his Bentley. But finally managing to get to his feet and make it to his car, he threw himself in, started the engine, jammed it into gear and floored the gas petal. The tires spun so bad the Bentley didn’t move an inch but eventually letting up on the gas enough, the tires did catch and Eddie wildly backed away from the house throwing gravel everywhere. He threw the car into drive, floored the gas again and sped so fast up the driveway and out of sight that it is a wonder he even made it to the road instead of being wrapped around a tree.

Climbing the stairs Mr. Larry found Alice in her mother’s arms.

Looking up to Mr. Larry as he entered the room, BJ asked: “What happened?”

“Alice lost control.”

Sitting down next of Alice and then continuing; “Alice, sweetheart, Eddie Dollar is ok, he’s not dead and you’re not going to hell.”

Alice looked up and whispered as if not believing what she had just heard: “I really didn’t kill him?”

“I won’t lie to you; you did stop his heart for thirty seconds but he’s alright now and he’s left.”

“Even if he is a pervert, I didn’t mean to stop his heart. I got mad and my mind, well, I don’t know what happened.”

 “Pervert?” BJ asked.

“In Monopoly terms, when found out, the kind that cannot pass Go but must immediately go to jail:” Mr. Larry replied.

“I don’t want to hurt people. Can’t you take it away?” Alice whimpered.

“Sweetheart, it’s not something you have that I can just take away. It’s part of what you are. To take it away would be to take you away and I would rather take myself away first.”

“I don’t like who I am:” Alice continued.

“I love who you are. You may not know it but you are the greatest. But you’re still a little girl and you need to give yourself some slack. We, your mother and I will help you learn control and then you’ll be just fine with who you are. I promise.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so.”

“And so do I:” BJ added.

About an hour later they decided to hold off seeing Sister Agnes until the next Saturday.

A WEEK’S WORTH OF QUESTIONS

BJ was a kind, loving but no nonsense type of a woman and she had just decided what she wanted for her and her daughter. If you can’t beat it, join it. When a young woman, she had been fooled about the character of Alice’s father but she was no fool. She liked everything she saw in the man she was sitting next to on the sofa but that’s not enough when you have a daughter and the rest of your life to think about. It was Sunday, the day after you know what. Alice, Cappy and Bueno were off in the pasture playing with and feeding the goats fruit that Alice was pulling down from the trees.

Not one for avoiding the issues BJ asked: “Lawrence, what’s going on with you, Alice, Cappy and Bueno? It is no accident. I know that but that’s about all that I have figured out.”

Taking a deep breath Mr. Larry began to answer: “Lord, you do go right to the bottom of it but I can’t think of anyone who needs to know the truth of things more than you. But I don’t want to overwhelm you with too much information all at once. What I tell you should have time to settle in for a day before we start on another major subject. If you will agree, let’s do this. Sometime after school each day this week, you and Alice come over. I’ll be pleased to fix something for supper and then while Alice and her crew are off playing, I’ll answer one major question and as many minor one’s as you want for that day.  By the end of the week, hopefully you’ll know everything you want to know. I’ll answer every question straight forward and as truthfully as I can. Whether you believe the truth of it or not will be up to you. Agree?”

 “I agree and you can start with the question I just asked:”

“When the agents of darkness too greatly disturb the balance of things in our world, the light will bring into this world and bring together the necessary souls to restore the balance. More specifically Cappy is that soul. I have never seen a soul brought into this world so bright in the light. No pun intended. The rest of us are here to help and guard him until he matures, comes into his own and is ready for whatever it is he has to do. I don’t know how or even what it is that he needs to do. And I especially do not understand why such a bright soul was born into the body of a cat.

The problem is that the light and darkness that make up our world must of necessity be of equal power for our world to exist, so the outcome of any one battle is never certain and I cannot see the end. I cannot see into the darkness to know what to do any more than the agents of darkness can see into the light to know what it is doing.”

“Agents of darkness?”

“Demons and such who sneak into our world and corrupt things. Judging from how bright Cappy is for fixing the problem, this demon has got to one big bad ugly god awful one who’s weakness must have something to do with cats.”

“You said we; we are those souls?”

“We, as in we are those souls.”

“We, as in me too?” BJ asked to clarify.

“We, as in you too, if that is what you choose. You were told by every doctor in the world that it was absolutely impossible for you to ever have any children. Then at forty you bring Alice, the most powerful soul I have ever met into the world. Where do you think she acquired the genes to make her so powerful? From you.”

“But I have no power.”

“You have a genetic inclination for the power of the light that our species is not supposed to develop for another million years or so. It’s why you couldn’t have children. These genes aren’t meant to show up yet. Our species isn’t ready to handle that kind of spiritual power. We still have too many primitive drives and passions and our species can’t even come close to controlling our thoughts, yet. Through some kind of quirk in nature you were born with the genes the light needed to use and it used that fact to bring Alice into the world. Without the light’s need, you would have never gotten pregnant and Alice would have never existed. So in some kind of back hand way, I guess we should be thankful for this demon.

Remember when I touched your head and you saw into lieutenant Rathbones mind; I couldn’t have done that with anyone else. You have all the gene potential for a spiritual life but it is your choice to awaken this potential or not.”

“My daughter is in the middle of a war between the light and a big bad ugly god awful demon. How can I not choose to help? Lord have mercy, and I just wanted to find out if you would make a good husband and father:”

“You asked:” Mr. Larry said with a sigh.

MONDAY’S QUESTION

“Are you, Alice, Cappy and Bueno some kind of super soul soldiers?”

“There is no such thing. No soul is bigger, badder, tougher or more special than any other soul. Maybe except for Cappy. But every other soul I have ever seen, the vehicle that the soul is in, that is its body, may be trained to bring out certain spiritual abilities or someone’s body may naturally be more genetically capable of spiritual development than another’s but that is usually the only difference.”

TUESDAY’S QUESTION

“Are souls newly created into the world or reincarnated into the world and are Cappy and Bueno souls?”

“Both and yes.”

This was a very long discussion.

WENDSDAY’S QUESTION

“Are souls separate from the light or a part of the light?”

“Only infinite consciousness in the form of light has ever or will ever exist.”

Another very long discussion.

THURSDAY’S QUESTION

"Have you ever been in love? And tell me about it.”

“Only once in my life and go look in a mirror.”

FRIDAY”S QUESTION

“How do you feel about Alice and me?”

“You should ask Alice. She seems to know my feelings better than I know them myself:” Mr. Larry  replied.

Swallowing very hard and barely getting it out, BJ finally decided to get it out into the open: “Alice said and I’m quoting:”

“Momma, don’t you know that Mr. Larry is flat out in love with you: Actually with us. He has waited his whole life for you and me.”

“She certainly has a direct way with words but everything she said is true.” Swallowing hard himself, Mr. Larry  continued: “I really don’t expect anything in return. I’m just happy to have both of you in my life. I know that I’m twenty years older than you are and you’re beautiful and could get anyone you want. I’m just glad for your friendship and I can deal with my emotions. Please don’t let my feelings get in the way of our friendship.”

“I thought you could see everything. You really don’t know my feelings?”

“I have to be detached to see into a person’s heart. I can’t see into a person’s heart that I am emotionally compromised about and I have never been this emotionally compromised. I think it’s the lights way of allowing someone like me or Alice to have a normal relationship. And I have relied on being able to directly see what another person is feeling for so many years now that I am at a total loss when I can’t: Sorry.

“Alice said and I know that it is one hundred percent true, that I am as deeply in love with you as you are with me:” BJ said, sighing deeply, knowing that it’s all out on the table now.

“That’s pretty deep:” Mr. Larry responded.

“She has said several times and again I’m quoting:” BJ started:

“Y’all just need to get on with it………… “

Taking another deep breath BJ added: “I think I would like to do that.”

 “I think I would like to do that also.”

“Should we go tell Alice?”

“We probably don’t need too. She’s been monitoring every single thing we have said this week.  Let’s go out to the porch and see:” Mr. Larry said as he motioned to the door.

They both stepped out on the front porch and looked out to Alice who was six hundred feet away in the field with her buds.

She gave them two thumbs up and sent a thought which Mr. Larry relayed to BJ: “Bout time.”

SATURDAY AND A COUPLE OF QUESTIONS

School’s out: Three months to relax, Alice was thinking while still lying in her bed late this Saturday morning.

Sticking her head into the bedroom BJ said: “I guess we need to start taking our clothes over to Mr. Larry’s.”

“Uh, momma, all of my clothes and everything I wanna keep are already over there.”

“You knew this was coming, didn’t you?” BJ said, smiling.

“Yes but not exactly like this. I need to ask Mr. Larry how come I got it wrong:”

“When Mr. Larry and I get married this Monday………..:” BJ said and then paused as she tried to figure out how to continue.

“I know how it works momma. I’ve been in all the teachers heads at school and all you adults ever seem to think about is doing it. The problem is that if I even think about someone for a split second, I’m in their head. Along with the other question, I’ll talk to Mr. Larry about it and see if there is any way I can leave you guys alone.”

BJ continued to pack and when her work van was full of clothes and knickknacks they were off.

Mr. Larry had breakfast ready as they drove up and it was such a pleasant morning that  they ate out on the front porch. After breakfast and refusing to let anyone come anywhere near the clothes she had to sort and figure out where to place in the closets, BJ was off to herself which left Mr. Larry an Alice to have a conversation over the matters she and her mother had discussed earlier.

“What happened to one hour before? Alice asked: “It disappeared out of my mind.”

“Any vision of the future is not a fact but a possibility. This possibility is based on a chain of events that lead to the outcome seen in the vision: If the chain of events change, the outcome changes and the vision disappears:” Mr. Larry explained.

“In kids talk, what you are really saying is that if momma hadn’t decided to marry you and move me over here this summer, the light was going to blow down our house and force us to move over here anyway. But since momma decided to marry you and move me over here, the light doesn’t have to do that anymore: Yes?”

“Exactly.”

“Wicked, it doesn’t pay to get in the lights way, does it?” Alice asked.

“The light doesn’t care one cent about individual personalities and although it would try more subtle tactics first, eventually it would tear down the whole state if that’s what it took to bring this part of the world back into balance. Balance is its only concern.”

“Totally wicked. Ok, I’ve got another question. You guys are going to get married on Monday. Momma did tell you, right?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact she did:” Mr. Larry answered somewhat bemused.

“And after you guys get married, I know momma wants too……………” Alice started moving her hands like she was playing an accordion, then slapping her head and grimacing: “Well you know what people do.”

“So I’ve been told:” Mr. Larry started: “And if I may finish you’re statement for you. You have a control problem and can’t keep your mind out of other peoples heads, especially, you think, in their private moments.”

Agreeing and shaking her head in mock disgust, Alice said: “That’s me; Miss No Control.“

“It would be better if you did have enough control to stay out of people’s heads when you really don’t need to be in them. Everyone needs both physical and emotional privacy. I mean, you wouldn’t want somebody in your head when you’re in the bathroom or thinking about boys, would you?”

“I am way too young to think about boys thaaaaaaat way:” Alice retorted.

“I really didn’t mean thaaaaaaat way. Just private thoughts that you want to keep to yourself.”

“But you do have a point about the bathroom thing:” Alice said as if deep in thought.

“You don’t have to worry about it. I put a blocking spell around the whole bedroom. You can’t be in anyone’s head once they are in that room. Go ahead. Your mother is up there now. See if you can read her thoughts or see anything about her.”

After a few moments of squinting really hard Alice said: “I can’t see her at all. You can do spells and stuff? Are you like some kind of sorcerer or wizard or something?”

“Spells are just thoughts with the power of the light or the power of darkness behind them and names don’t mean anything: One person’s saint is another person’s devil worshipper for no better reason than the fact that they are of a different faith. And thoughts with the power of the light behind them are how healings are done.”

Getting up, Alice said: “All of that’s really deep. I’ll have to think about it but for now, can I go tell momma she’s safe?”

“Great Idea: Sister Agnes decided she wanted to meet everyone; so instead of me taking you to her, she’s coming over here in a couple of hours. If you would tell your mother I would be appreciative:” Mr. Larry said.

“Ok but what am I supposed to talk to her about?” Alice asked. “I know that’s what you want.”

“I want you to figure that out when she gets here. For now, I’m going to the garden and pick some green tomatoes. Sister Agnes loves my fried green tomato sandwiches.” Mr. Larry said also getting up.”

Alice ran up the stairs as happy as she could be that she could give her momma some privacy.

“Can you do that spell thingy for my bathroom?” Alice yelled down after reaching the top of the stairs.

“Absolutely:” Came the reply as Mr. Larry walked out of the back door to the garden.

A VISIT BY SISTER AGNES

A couple of hours later a white Chevy three quarter ton passenger van with St. Peter and Paul School written on the side, pulled up in front to the house. Out stepped a rotund lady, about sixty, in a casual nuns habit. Mr. Larry was quickly out to greet her with a laugh and a long hug. Introductions were made all around with Mr. Larry introducing BJ as his fiancée. When being introduced to Alice, Sister Agnes bent down and nodding her head in the direction of Mr. Larry and BJ, whispered: “bout time” and gave her a wink. Remembering those exact words that she had recently sent to Mr. Larry and her mother while she was out in the field, Alice immediately got tickled and started giggling.

Upon being introduced to Cappy, Sister Agnes could only say: “Oh my God.”

And with Bueno: “Your heart is bigger than your body and that is gigantic.”

Everyone started to file inside the house for lunch with Sister Agnes asking: “You make any tomato sandwiches?”

Which is exactly what was served for lunch: That and a very pleasant conversation over little things.

In the middle of lunch, Alice looked hard at Sister Agnes and then closed her eyes and then looked at her hard again. She did the same thing with Mr. Larry and then Cappy.

And then triumphantly she announced: “I figured it out.”

Everyone stopped whatever they were in the middle of and looked in her direction, Mr. Larry saying: Let’s hear it.”

“Alice continued:” You guys minds are act different. Mr. Larry has been trying to get me to look at my mind control problem and I can see what the problem is but not how to fix it. When you three think, your minds move like a river but when you stop thinking about something, your mind stops. That’s why your thoughts feel so powerful to me. And when you’re not thinking and I close my eyes, it’s like you’ve disappeared. I can’t see you in my mind at all. Everybody else’s mind keeps jumping all over the place and never stops. That’s why their thoughts feel weak and they can’t do spiritual stuff.”

Throwing her hands up in the air in a gesture of how, Alice asked: “I just need to learn how to do that:

Cappy?” Alice asked.

“It is a product of resting continuously in the light. I was born that way.”

Alice looked to Mr. Larry.

“I took me twenty years of meditating three hours a day to have full control. But it gets easier every year:”

Alice then looked to Sister Agnes.

“It took me thirty years at three hours a day to rest in the light continuously: Ten years before Lawrence and twenty years after. But I agree, a person gets a little better control every year.”

Alice: “Twenty years to get full control, bummer.”

“You said ten years before Lawrence and twenty years after. I don’t understand.” BJ asked.

“I had practiced the Prayer of the Heart since I was ten years old. When I was twenty I had just become a novice nun and was attending a seminar by Father Thomas on prayer and that’s where I met Lawrence. He was always sitting at the back of the class with this serene look on his face, never saying anything. I guess that was forty years ago now. Anyway, he looked like some kind of a saint sitting in the back so on the last day of the seminar I went up to him to introduce myself. I reached out so that he would shake my hand and instead of shaking my hand he told me to take his hand and place it over my heart. I’m no dummy. I did that in about a heartbeat.

The light came pouring into me and just filled me up. Everything else disappeared. I was just me and the light and Lawrence’s hand over my heart. Well, I started praising and getting all emotional and my mind started thinking about the wonderful things I was going to tell everyone and what do you think happened?  In a flash, the Light disappeared on me and Lawrence just laughed at the whole thing which kind of got me upset. Then he tells me to calm down, get some control over my mind and mostly to stop getting all emotional and carrying on. Then he tells me that if I can settle down and empty my mind of thoughts that I should look to the light again the next day and see what happens. So I did and the light returned and has been with me ever since: First in spells each day and then after about twenty years, it has been with me continuously. Lawrence and I have been good friends since that day.

Sister Agnes stayed for another half hour of casual conversation and then saying goodbye to everyone, headed out to her van with Mr. Larry at her side.

“You knew exactly what you were doing, didn’t you? He said with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Old man, I love you dearly but you’re too emotionally involved. You need her assistance and all I did was plant a seed. You’ll see where it grows. Shortly would be my guess. With Cappy, oh my God. Love you. Gotta go and let me know.” Sister Agnes said as she left.

Alice was not hanging around for this one. By the time Mr. Larry made it back into the house, the three of them were already far out into the pasture.

BJ was waiting on the couch.

“Please sit:” is all she said.

When Mr. Larry sat down she continued: “Is there any way I can force Alice to stop her guard duty with Cappy?”

“The three of them are tied, literally bound to each other through their hearts. I don’t think that anyone or anything can break that bond:” Mr. Larry answered.

“That’s what I thought and I wouldn’t have asked for any other reason than the fact that a monster wouldn’t think twice about killing my daughter to get to Cappy.”

Mr. Larry thought for a few moments and then said: “I do have skills and whatever it is out there, it would have to come through me first.“

“That’s not good enough. You need more help and you have already told me that I have a genetic inclination for this. If I have read between the lines properly, I have more of a genetic predisposition for the power of the light than most anyone except for Alice and that includes you; Yes? ”

“Yes:” Was the reply.

Her voice trembling slightly: “Then why have you not asked me to take your hand and put it over my heart so that I can help you protect my daughter?”

Taking a deep breath, Mr. Larry said: “Sister Agnes had meditated three hours a day for ten years before she was ready to even see the light. She has never experienced the flowing and power of it up through her spine and out through her nervous system. This experience is many times more traumatic to the body. People have died trying to do this too early.

I was hoping that you would wait a while longer until your nervous system could more easily handle it and the process wouldn’t be as hard on you. Being around Alice and the rest has started the process but with a little more time it will be easier. If we start things now; with your genetics you may not die but you will be so sick that every day for the next three months or so, you will wish you were dead. For the next couple of years it will get better but you are still going to experience periods of fevers and nausea that will make you almost as sick.” It usually takes twenty years of preparation for a person’s nervous system to get acclimated to all of the energy flowing through it. I don’t want to lose you. Maybe it is selfish of me.”

In a voice that left no chance for her resolve to be mistaken, BJ said: “Now.”

And almost as an afterthought:

“I know that you said Cappy is unusually bright but why does a monster demon want to hunt him down and kill him. What is he, an angel born into a cat’s body or something?”

With a sigh that acknowledged that there was no way he was going to talk her out of it, Mr. Larry reached over and placed his hand on BJ’s heart, saying: “That is exactly what he is. He is the most powerful angel I have ever met and I have met a number of them. I think Cappy and this demon have done battle before.”

Summer Vacation, Chapter Three

SUNDAY

Two things happened Sunday that pretty well set the tone for the summer.  First, BJ woke up with a fever and nausea so severe, she could not get out of bed and twenty four hour nursing was called in for the next few weeks.

Second, the good bishop and closet pervert Eddie Dollar found his theme for the summer. He quickly abandoned his attempt at fake healing and went directly into a three month tirade on the evil amongst us.

The first of a series of lectures which he gave at his three churches that summer was titled, THE DEVIL WORSHIPPER, HIS WHORE AND THEIR LITTLE GIRL WITCH. Forget the God is love crap. A smart preacher can make a lot more money when he can get his people to be afraid and then to hate.  And the good reverend was going to play it to the hilt.

YET TO BE PLACED IN THE BOOK

LEARNING TO HEAL

THE CURSED LADY

THE MAN WHO IS CHASED BY GHOSTS

ONE MEAN UGLY EVIL BLACK CAT

ABOUT MELISSA, A VERY BLACK MAGIC WITCH

TWO MONTHS AT LAKE RABURN LOOKING FOR EVIL

THE WITCH PAYS A VISIT

THE WITCH’S HENCHMAN

THE WITCH’S SUICIDE

BACK TO SCHOOL

EDDIE DOLLAR GOES TO JAIL