sos

 

The hardest part about dying is having to let go of those you are attached to. The one I’d been most afraid of leaving had been my mother. But she is gone now. Maybe this is why I have remained detached. 

 

 so the answer to that riddle is….

     ….they cannot see past their own selves

so remain invisible 

  unless I could be proven otherwise 

but in this isolated moment that came to me the other night burning with fever, that separate plain wherein nothing else mattered but to keep afloat from danger; fighting my own dragon ….what is real but to be and to be really seen and exist in that truth

because the rest means nothing at all….

 

There are those isolated moments in life when it seems the noise all around you stops. You don’t hear the bees or the spinning wheels. Even sirens or car horns all stop. And becomes unimportant because it is all the white noise background in the barrage of firing guns of the drills of life. Doesn’t matter. 

I see now that what I have been searching for has always been present but I never acknowledged.

For so long I have heard the voice of my mother say to me in the back of my mind, “you have everything you need.”

You know, she never said that to me while she was alive. But I have heard her tell me this now from somewhere when I am in that moment of meditational mindless thought. 

But even as I write about being empathic; it really does not matter that I can connect telepathically. The answers were never out there. Perhaps not even the minds. I understand now, I think. Her words. 

I think I realize why I have been a magnet of dangerous personalities. 

I had thought it was some kind of punishment to me but it was something else. Something they sought to take that I never noticed was there….as—yes—they always come back to me ….when they realize they needed me more ….but I never noticed ….

And what I have searched for was never to be found

the riddle 

is 

now I see

….it was to be found

    

Today ….

There is a professor of literature who teaches at the university and it seems, lives down the next road. I didn’t know until today when I was accosted by his black lab. He tells me he’s been away all summer at his villa. I didn’t understand where. He speaks with a French accent. He seems to not know the neighbors which explains why no one ever mentioned him to me.  

Yet, his dog has been obnoxious to me all summer. I ask him,

“so will he be nice to me now that I have been invited inside?”

“No. I doubt it,” he says, matter-if-factly

I want to say,

“maybe you can leash him?” as I rub my ankle where his teeth didn’t get through my boot. But I don’t say that.

As I throw the book into my backpack he calls to me what sounds like 

“Return….jen-ever.”

I am almost all the way back when I figure out what that means