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PATRICK HEARS VOICES, CH 17- 21 By Kathy Vik 11-17-13
While writing this for all of us, a novel to and for and about lightworkers, I am asking for whatever financial help you feel moved to provide me. Private message me, or contact me at amissvik@gmail.com. My PayPal account is under amissvik.
Follow my work at:
and
www.wordpress.com/patrickhearsvoices
As I am re-writing, for continuity's sake, as I go, so I will post this as a book, in case you haven't been reading a long, on my wordpress site. It's fun to just read along, bit by bit, but also fun to read the thing in one block, if that's your thing.
And here were go.
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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Kevin was in the kitchen when Patrick and Ellie got home. He said, “Hi,” in a general way, and went back to cutting up apples. On the stove was a stock pot, steaming, boiling water waiting to make the applesauce Kevin was known for within his circles.
Ellie made the three of them lunch, and joined the boys in the TV room. They'd put on a documentary about wolves. Ellie sat with them, and actually got into it. Turned out there was a marathon of documentaries on the wildlife of The America's, and by the time they'd all had dessert, Kevin and Patrick were asking if Patrick could stay and watch. It reminded her of her days as a mommy. Sure, Ellie heard herself say, that's fine, sure.
Kevin had run lunch and dessert out to Bill, who preferred to work through creative impulses. On this early afternoon of an early spring-feeling day, Ellie now checked on Bill.
Through the short hall with its tiny bathroom and closet, into a cramped but charming log kitchen, and then through to the studio, a greenhouse, in some respects. In the middle of the room was a half-realized hunk of fused metal bits. Ellie liked watching projects come together, thinking on her time with them as snapshots. The finished project always stunned her. She was curious to see how he was going to pull a rabbit out of a hat with this, though. It was in an awkward phase, certainly.
“What medium is this, Bill? Are these bits of nuts and bolts?” Ellie asked.
“Time intensive thing to do, but, yeah, I got some junk yard stuff, played with it, sort of like tossing a salad, and then, there's this.” He looked at his work so far and frowned, looking puzzled, and frustrated.
“Where do you see it going, honey?” Ellie asked.
“Hell if I know,” Bill said. “I want to go look for some copper. Joseph has a great supplier, but I'm not sure the discount would be extended to me.” Bill came over to Ellie and gently brushed bread crumbs off her blouse. “Thanks for lunch, my sweet Ellie. How goes it with you?”
“Patrick's here. He's troubled. He wept in the breakfast nook. I held him like a big kid, and he hasn't wanted to talk about it since. I don't want to push.” Ellie looked into Bill's eyes, and felt that old familiar calm, a certainty, a joy. Bill. My Bill.
“Do you want me to talk to him?” Bill asked.
“I think it's best to have Kevin hang with him. They make a good pair. They're watching Animal Planet together. I think they're going to order pizza later. It's a marathon, I think” Ellie said distractedly. “Are you going someplace now, or are you going to stay here?” Ellie asked.
“I'll go see Joseph, see what I can work out. I have a couple ideas. I should be home by six or so, I think” Bill said, looking at his watch.
“I'm going to go upstairs, then. I think it's Chinese for dinner tonight, ala carte. At least,” Ellie smiled, “At least, that's the plan.”
“Spoken like a true retiree,” bill said, giving her a little goose as she left his studio.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
There were many things about Ellie that only Bill knew. And then, there were things that only she and someone else knew, but, she reflected, always, upon entering her meditation room, always, there was one person who was always there. “I was always there,” Ellie said, while removing her shoes. “I have always been. I shall always be. My moment is This Now Moment. I am that I am.”
She then walked to her little altar, made from a discarded bookcase and a fancy tablecloth, touched her little icons, and said her word for that feeling, of before, after and now. She said, “Seylah.”
She'd never heard anyone else use that word. But it meant worlds to her, and she used it before she sat in her meditation room to think.
It was a simple place, with bright murals and colorful tapestries. She liked Song of India incense for these times, when she was going within deliberately.
She needed to get right with something that had been bothering her since walking out of East High for the last time.
She considered her blessings first. She'd long since reconciled with the notion that she was on a vacation now. She had had difficulties, but not horrible ones, and she'd known true happiness and peace, more and more, since all those years ago in college.
She considered her marriage, her deep sense of sexual satisfaction, she thought of her home, her absence of debt, her positive bank account. She thought on her unusual, colorful friends. She considered it all, sitting there on that march day, and realized that she was blessed, that she was loved by something so benevolent, sometimes when she thought about it too hard, it made her dizzy.
She felt her life breaking off, into two worlds. She was done with even part time work now. She is retired.
“Now what,” she asked silently, in her room.
She had to admit that her imagination had been slumbering. Somehow, having a place to report had satisfied her, and she realized only now that she'd said “no” to many friends and opportunities, just because she wanted to be at a job, among kids, helping.
And she'd rarely asked what might come next. She'd been happy to be surprised, up until now.
And yet, here she was, mind suddenly busy, thinking on images of what might the fun to do next, flooding her with imagery and even a few whiffs of foods she began to feel a hunger for, music she'd never quite imagined.
She opened her eyes, and looked at her favorite “thing” in all the world, a four feet high ceramic Ganesha that her friend Pauly had shipped her while he was over in India. It was so satisfying to her. She felt full, centered, clear, in this state, looking at that statue. Pauly had said his guru had blessed it. Ellie liked the thought.
“Tell me now, Babaji, tell me, what do I do now?” Ellie asked the glittering idol. “I know you to be me,and within me is the remover of all obstacles. It is my intent for the next bit to be reveled to me. Let me see things bigger, and show me what you all know of my path, what I need to know, where I need to go. Be loud, be clear, be humorous, be gentle, to everyone involved. Allow timing to run smooth, and Babaji,” Ellie said, “Give me the gift of divine patience in the meantime.”
She felt better, after her prayer, but was aware of no new plans, no visuals, no words. Silence in the house, Ellie could feel the stillness in the house.
She allowed herself to become this stillness. She shed all ideas then, unfettered from what she bemoaned she knew all too well.
She soared, and become a crackling, surging column of light then. She bathed in this, as she was it, it her, and she suspended each and every thought, every care, each concern, puzzle and worry. They were meaningless here.
She returned quiet, still, serene, once again ready to argue for the compassionate action in each situation, once again only able to see benevolence, unable to recognize anyone but the creator's eyes in everyone she met.
She went to her little window, opened the cold latch, and let the chill of march's new air bring her to life. She saw the old Oak, just now budding again, once again, my dear old friend, she said quietly, in her mind. Now she began to feel expectation, the curious sense of opening she sensed each and every spring. She breathed it in, bent her head low, and laughed out loud. She looked up again, at the clouds now, and realized she was famished.
She was ready for whatever came next, now.
CHAPTER NINTEEN
The group had decided on using her shredded potatoes for latkes, and they'd eat pizza for dinner. They watched two hours of animal documentaries in the evening. Bill received a call during the last commercial break of the evening, taking it in the library, off the TV room. Ellie gathered dishes and boxes as the last segment aired, a nice recap of all the creepy crawlies living in a Californian desert.
Patrick followed Ellie into the kitchen, and helped her load the dishwasher.
“Did you have a good night here, Patrick?” Ellie asked.
“It really hit the spot, Ellie. Thanks for letting me stay.” He hesitated, and then asked, “Are you sure I wasn't a bother?”
Ellie had been repeatedly struck with how hesitant and unsure of himself Patrick seemed to be. She was glad to know he was open to mothering, and that this was,in fact, what helped draw him out of his shell.
“You were the opposite of a bother. Had you not been here, lad, “ Ellie said, “We'd have just sleepwalked through our usual routine, with the exception of the change in cuisine.” Ellie handed him a huge casserole dish for the bottom rack. “It was wonderful having you here, it was a gift, kiddo.”
Patrick blushed and smiled as he rearranged things for this huge pan.
“Let's just run it, Patrick. Here's the soap,” Ellie said, handing him a big bottle of sweet smelling goo. Patrick squeezed, closed the door, and searched the console for the “On” button. Bill had insisted on state of the art appliances two years ago, and now Ellie herself often forgot how to get the things going.
“I have just a few more things to hand wash, and then I'm free,” Ellie said. “Do you want to stick around, or are you headed home, Patrick? It's getting late.”
Patrick checked his phone. Nearly nine. He'd forgotten to call his dad. “I need to go, but thanks again for everything.”
Ellie walked him to the front door, and watched him walk to his car. She waved at him as he drove away, curious what thoughts Patrick didn't feel he can share. Let him be, Ellie heard. Let him be. He'll be back.
Kevin was loading his Jeep when she made her pass through before going up to bed. She gave him a kiss and a hug, and watched him drive away, too. Locked, still, silent, the old house stood, feeling contentment, feeling full, somehow, Ellie thought, as she made her way to their bedroom.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The next evening, Patrick drove to a little building tucked behind a strip mall on Colorado Boulevard. The meeting as at seven, but Kevin told him to meet him at Sunrise Sunset diner at the north end of the mall. They would have dinner, and then go to Kevin's event together.
Kevin and Patrick had gotten to know each other between TV commercials at Animal Planet marathon at Ellie's the day before. Patrick had felt reassured by Kevin, sensed him as a kind and solid man, and, locking the car, he hoped he was right.
Kevin took a booth two doors into the modest restaurant, and when Patrick showed, a low, “Right here,” was all that was needed to hail the kid. Kevin didn't like to call attention to himself, and was glad to find someone similar in Patrick.
“I'm glad you showed up,” Kevin said. “The food's good here.”
Patrick squeezed into the booth, tried to look comfortable, and looked around for a waitress.
Kevin said, “You know, these tables are too skinny. Do you mind if we move to a table?”
Gratefully, Patrick agreed, and awkwardly extricated himself from the booth he'd squeezed into. A table felt more exposed, but would be easier to sit at comfortably.
“I had your bulk once. I played college ball. CU. We did the usual damage to CSU while I was there,” Kevin smiled, considering telling Patrick about his senior year championship, but he held back, wanting the kid to feel less self conscious. Patrick said enough to let Kevin know he followed college ball.
“So, tell me again what it is we're going to tonight,” Patrick asked, after they'd put in their dinner order.
Kevin gave himself permission to speak, something he often withheld. Patrick looked like he could handle it.
“Every week, a group of us meet over at the Temple of The Third Eye. Norma Henges, she's an old psychic who started the thing going on thirty years ago.” Kevin began. “It's a Theosophical Society. Do you know anything about Theosophy?”
When Patrick said no, Kevin fished a think book out of his inner coat pocket and gave it to Patrick. “I don't... I'm not...” Kevin stammered. “Listen, kid, this is just one way to go, and I don't take any of it too serious, but I thought I'd bring you something from White Eagle. Norma gave me one of their books the first time I went to a meeting there.”
In Patrick's hands was a thin volume with a colorful dust jacket, called White Eagle, on The Divine Mother.
Kevin got out his phone as Kevin flipped through the book.
Patrick was drawn to a passage in a chapter about Mary.
“See the glory of the original Light, itself like a sun, the most beautiful light and radiance. See that which has been conceived and born from previous systems, from a previous cosmic life. Imagine the whole cosmos in the form of light and radiance and life.”
Patrick let these words fall through him, felt himself heat up, and, without calling it to him, he began to feel, once again, how he felt for those few minutes, in front of his locker.
Patrick studied Kevin then, trying to get a handle on what this fellow was up to. He was balding, wore glasses, an overbite, and a thick, solid body. His clothes were worn, and his yellow coat looked like it needed to be retired.
“Find something in there that speaks to you?”Kevin asked.
“I did. This is really nice stuff, Kevin.” Patrick said.
The food arrived, and they ate in silence punctuated by talk of baseball, college basketball, and Kevin’s work. Kevin explained he was a plumber by trade, a handyman now, living down the street from Ellie as an apartment building sup.
Kevin paid the bill at the counter, got them both a packet of Lifesavers Pep-O-Mints, and walked to Patrick's car.
“I prefer walking over to the Temple from here,” Kevin said. “It clears my head. My car's over there.” Kevin pointed to a silver Jeep three cars down. “Never had a problem just parking it here. Come one with me.”
On the way to the Temple, Patrick asked about what to expect.
“Well, I thought you might need some guidance. You strike me as ready,” Kevin began. “But, I'll tell you, it's not for everybody.”
Patrick let this statement hang in the air between them. He'd tried three other times to get Kevin to tell him something concrete about this “meeting to like minds” Kevin had asked him to attend. In the distance, a tan clapboard structure was coming in to view. Patrick again asked for specifics.
“OK. Patrick, do you know what channeling is?” Kevin asked.
“Channeling,” Patrick said. “No, I can't say that I do.”
“That book I gave you was channeled. White Eagle is an energy that comes through people, and they feel moved to write the words that come to them, when under that influence.” Kevin said. “You know all those books people refer to as 'the word of god?', the Bible, all of it? Channeled, I think.” Kevin fished a Camel out of his coat pocket. “I don't think God came down and wrote those books. Men did. Men who were channeling.”
Patrick tried this thought on for size, and found he didn't have a problem with it. It seemed to make a lot more sense than taking words in a book literally. He liked how roomy Kevin's thoughts were.
“So anyway,” Kevin continued, “A couple years ago, I kept being moved to start a journal. I don't write, and I don't like journals, but, there I was, sitting in front of a notebook I found lying around the house. I started to write, and what came out, with some practice, was pretty surprising.
I showed some of it to Ellie. She encouraged me to keep at it, and I did. I started to get comfortable with it. I found I was sometimes really surprised at what came out. I'd sit, start writing, and then, a couple h ours later, I'd have pages and pages, and it all made such good sense.
I'd ask real specific questions, sometimes, and I started to take the advice this voice gave me, when I came to the notebooks with specific, like, life questions. And that led me back here.”
They were standing in the parking lot of a simple building, a weird orphan of a building. Between an upscale neighborhood to the north and a busy strip mall to the south stood n incongruously simple structure, nicely ringed by fir trees.
Kevin finished, “I'd not been here for a long time, busy with work and stuff, but I came back one night a while back. Norma's daughter runs the place now, and I handed her my last notebook. She put me in front of everybody that night, and I've been coming back every week, now, to channel for folks. And for myself.”
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
The meeting hall smelled faintly of smelled of mothballs. There were twenty or so beat up chairs lining the hall, pointed in the direction of a little altar. On the walls were large portraits, in bright pastels, of people Patrick had never seen before. He wandered over to the artwork. St. Germain, Archangel Raphael, Sananda, the brass plaques read.
Kevin went up to the front of the room and put his coat over a bar stool that stood to the right of the little altar. He went over to Patrick, studying a portrait of St. Francis of Assisi. “I want to go find Indra. I want you two to meet. If you want coffee, there's some right past those double doors,” Kevin pointed to the meeting hall's lobby. “Indra usually has some snacks set out, too. I'll go find her, and see you in a minute.”
Indra was a tall, athletic woman in her mid forties. Her graying blonde hair was in a tangle of dreads, and the simple blue shift she wore was part of a nice set she'd scored at Nordstrom Rack. She was a study in sharp contrast, and never failed to confound Kevin. He liked her contradictions, and enjoyed her company.
“I'm so glad you came early, Kevin,” Indra greeted her friend. “I wanted to see if you'd be up for a psychic fair I'm putting together for the solstice. Do you have plans for it yet?”
“I hadn't thought that far ahead, to be honest,” Kevin smiled. “I'd be honored. Are you having it here?”
“Actually, we scored a bigger place. Jeff has gotten us the conference space at Denver Center for Exploratory Awareness. Have you ever gone there? It's called the DC, for short.”
Kevin had been going to the DC, on and off, with Ellie and Bill, for years. Kevin had been there just the week before for their monthly drum circle. He was surprised they were letting little groups like theirs join in.
“It's sort of a conference of all the smaller groups around town this year,” Indra said, seemingly responding to Kevin's thoughts. This often happened in her company, and Kevin had gotten used to it. “It's gonna be two days of channeling, classes, tons of food, lots of music. Jeff and the band are going to do a kirtan, even.” And with that, Indra sang a little bit of a favorite chant of hers, moving her body as she quietly sang, mischievous smile on her face.
“Oh!” she said, “Look who's pulling up! This is quite a night, Kevin! Come see!” She led Kevin by the hand, out to the parking lot.
Valerie saw Indra from inside the building, talking to a an overweight, balding man who looked like her uncle. She lit a smoke and waited for her girlfriend, leaning on her car, waving at the two of them as they approached her. The sun was setting, and the colors were gorgeous tonight.
“Valerie,” Indra said, almost a prayer coming from her lips. “How was your drive, sweetheart?”
Kevin watched as the two women greeted each other with hand holding and smiles.
“This is Kevin. He's out featured guest tonight,” Indra told Valerie, while presenting Kevin with a flourish.
“I've heard about you,” Valerie said. “Indra refers to your channeling quite a bit at home. It's good to finally meet you.”
Kevin shook Valerie's hand, and then remembered he had also brought a guest. “You know, I could use a smoke before we get going,” Kevin said, “But I left my friend inside. You mind hanging out til I go check on him?”
Valerie nodded, mentioned something about not minding another one, and Kevin went back inside to find Patrick.
Patrick was sitting on a couch in the lobby, reading his White Eagle book. “Why don't you come outside for a little bit, Patrick?” Kevin asked. “I want you to meet a couple folks.”
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
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