I am the boy...
In that time, he was still my friend. In truth, he would be a tremendous help to me during an incredibly difficult time. But fear and uncertainty, as we waited to see what would happen with my dad, took my energy to a very low place, making me easy to manipulate.
A few days later, he invited me to meet for drinks and continue our conversation. My stress levels had been off the chart so I was grateful for the distraction. He was easy to be with, he always seemed happy and had a great sense of whimsy. A much needed escape from the reality that my dad was going through a serious health crisis and no one was really sure yet, what kind of damage would be left by this stroke. So, over some really good wine we spoke again about spirit guides and tarot cards. He'd asked me before, to do a reading for him so, that evening I brought my cards with me. The wine bar was dimly lit with small tables, helpful for being discreet as I was concerned about doing a tarot reading in public, but harder to see the cards and with no real place to lay them out.
He suggested we head to his house, which was near, and we could do the reading there. In all the years I'd known him, he'd never done anything to cross a line with me, so I didn't have any concerns about it. I thought, I know this man, I know his (ex) wife, and his kids... Besides, I for sure didn't have the energy to deal with people so, it seemed like a good idea.
Through the months of our conversations, I'd been able to see in to his home using remote viewing. But, I'd never before had the opportunity to confirm with anyone what I'd seen. Until then, I had to rely on a person’s "yep, that's correct" to confirm what I had seen but now, I could see for myself! It was fascinating to walk around the house and see with my physical eyes, things I'd only seen in my mind. I knew what was in drawers, in cabinets, which hallways led to what rooms, it was amazing.
When I finished wandering around, we moved to the kitchen where I laid the tarot cards on the counter and we talked through his reading. I shared all the information I could and answered whatever questions he had but, the reading left us both a bit stunned in its accuracy. Even knowing this man, we were not close friends and there was simply no way I could have known the things I shared, and yet somehow, I did...
In an effort to diffuse the slight awkwardness of the situation, he turned to music. I'd always known the arts were important to him but, what I didn't know was that he actually had talent. He sat down at the piano and started to play. Perhaps it was coincidence he chose to play a song about angels but, I don't believe in coincidence. I knew since he first came to me, that this man had been sent for a purpose, mine or his I really wasn't sure so, as I sat on the piano bench, I allowed the music to wind it's way into my heart.
It took only a moment for my eyes to fill with tears. I'm sure it was partly from exhaustion, knowing my dad was in the hospital and my mom didn't want us there. I think she felt she needed her own grasp on the situation first but, the stress of wanting to be to help deal with this new reality, worrying about my dad and trying to deal with my own feelings of fear and helplessness had left me completely depleted. Growing up, my mom and I were never close but, my dad and I were always going off to do stuff. We look exactly alike and I rarely passed up a chance to do something with him when I was young. He'd take me to the hospital to have lunch in the doctor's dining room. He'd wake me up in the night to go on the roof and look at the planets and when I was older, we'd sneak off to go out on the boat, just the two of us. I could always talk to him and he never judged me for being different. He may not have always understood but, I always knew he had my back. They both did. And now I wanted to be there for them but, patience hasn't always been my strong suit. (yeah ok, you can quit laughing now....)
I was tired, worn out and filled with fear and uncertainty so, in a moment when there was just no strength for walls, as he played Sarah McLachlan's "In the arms of an angel," it wasn't a surprise when the tears came. Yet, I knew it wasn't just the exhaustion or the song. Sitting on that bench, there were tears yes, but there was a also sense of calm I hadn't felt in a long time. A feeling of being hugged by someone not physically there. I could feel the warmth around me and I could even "almost" feel arms around me. The energy was so familiar. I knew it was "Him."
The soul is so vast, there's no way "all of it" could fit into our small human bodies. There are differing opinions as to how much of our soul actually is "in" us but, there seems to be some consensus around the idea that we're a third here and two-thirds still in spirit (call it what you may). For me, I've always liked the image of those guys in parades with big faces pained on their bellies with their arms above their head, holding up giant hats as they walk down the street puffing their stomachs in and out. Their face was "down here" but so much more of them was still "up there".
As I sat there listening to the piano, I pondered how a person I know to be alive, and living some 1500 miles away, could send his energy to me in this way. The answer came instantly and seemed pretty simple actually. We were still connected, he is the Twin, we would always be connected...
I heard His voice in my ears, "Trust him... Trust me..."
The part of Him still in spirit sent the message, sent this energy, "His energy," so I would recognize it and receive it. Recognize that the man sitting next to me was somehow there for my benefit. The voice in my head preceded a series of images flashing through my mind, of all the times I had been face to face with this man, all the times I'd felt that energetic connection to him and been safe. If it hadn't felt comfortable and familiar to me, I never would have agreed to meet him in the first place, I never would have been there. But the truth was, I had been asking my guides to send me someone to work with, someone who could help me continue to develop my skills and it seemed clear, he was it.
I was tired so we moved to a set of couches and I curled myself into a corner while we talked a bit more before I went home. He sat across from me with his chin in his hand. Conversation flowed easily but, the voices in my head kept repeating; "trust him...", "it's why he came to you...", "you have to connect." I let out a deep breath I hadn't realized I was holding and without a word, moved to sit on the ottoman in front of him, knees to knees.
I asked, "Is this ok?" He nodded, seeming to be both amused and confused at the same time. "You asked me about spirit guides, I'm supposed to help you find yours." Again he nodded, still not sure what I would do.
"Can I touch you? On your heart?" He nodded. Fueled by a compulsion I can't really explain, and mixed with fear, I reached out my right hand and placed it inside his shirt and onto his chest. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. It was intimate and personal and I was keenly aware I was touching a man who was not my husband. I couldn't explain it, I just felt so strongly it was what I was supposed to do.
Before He left, when I would talk with "Him" on the phone, I often found myself reaching out my hand, seeing it in my mind, resting on his heart.
I took another deep breath and tried to relax. I allowed myself to connect, to feel into his energy and then, I was there... When I meet with my guides in meditation, it's always in the same place; a straight path through peaceful woods that kind of reminds me of camp. It is beautiful and sunny above the canopy of trees but the path itself is not brightly lit. It feels warm, safe, and like you could see forever down this path. An old woman appeared and began walking towards me. I knew she was his grandmother, the mother of his father, she had been watching over him since he was young. There were others waiting to come forward but, he was not ready. He was still too much "of this world" to hear them. She said I was to tell him she was there and when he was ready to ask for her wisdom, he would have it.
As she turned to walk slowly back down the path, a little boy appeared, skipping in my direction. Little more than a toddler, he couldn't have been more than 3 years old, with a head full of stick straight blonde hair flapping along as he went. He actually looked like my older son Eli, when he was that age and his energy felt so familiar to me, familiar yet incongruous. I knew the energy of this spirit was not connected to the man sitting with me. But, if that was so, what was he doing here?
"Who are you?" I asked.
"I am the boy..." Confused, and feeling more certain he was not here for this man, I asked again.
"Who are you?"
"I am the boy..." He smiled, skipped around me and then back down the path to disappear into the woods and I was left sitting on the coffee table, my arm still extended. Instantly aware of the intimate nature of my position I moved back to my spot on the other couch to share what I had seen. My friend seemed un-phased and thanked me for the information. He wasn't sure what he'd do with it but he seemed satisfied to know for sure, he did indeed have spirit guides and that they'd be there when he was ready to engage with them.
As for me, I was confused. I knew I didn't have tons of experience at this point but, I'd never had a guide come through that wasn't for the person with whom I was connected. So, if the boy wasn't for this man, who was he there for?
"I am the boy..." What the fuck does that mean??