In the Caribbean the ocean water is usually crystal clear, so you can see right down into the sand where you are walking.
I was having a bit of the heebie jeebies from all of the shark sightings and attacks in the US, and I have always wanted prescription goggles so I could go underwater for a peek before I boldly stepped out and started swimming around.
This trip there were jellyfish and seaweed on the ocean side and sea grass in the bay. I’d swim out just to the edge of the sea grass and go no farther. There were little kids snorkeling over the sea grass and I figured they would scream and alert me if anything exciting came along.
I saw a school of fish jump into the air. Always trained that something bigger was probably chasing them, I got right out and stayed alert.
Last year when I got back from my trip my eyeglasses disintegrated in my hand, presumably because I didn’t wash all of the ocean salt out of them. This year I went in blind. I was sitting on the ocean floor in waist deep water when suddenly SOMETHING brushed across my leg. It felt like it must be at least a couple of feet long and I freaked.
New discovery: I do NOT like the feeling of fish swimming up against me. I guess my snorkeling career is over before it began.
I hadn’t seen anything in the water and I had to stick my face right into it to see what was in there with me. It was a lot of tiny, almost transparent fish, with yellow stripes. They were maybe two or three inches long. En mass they felt like something much bigger. A monster of the deep, at the very least.
The reports came back in at breakfast that some people had jumped into the ocean naked the night before and had been shocked when they were ripped by jellyfish tendrils. Really, they jumped into the ocean in the dark. Naked. Not that their bathing suits would have helped them, but do they have no sense of personal safety? Did Jaws teach them nothing? Did they not read the posted sign Jellyfish Have Been Sighted?
I suppose they were young and just drunk. Jellyfish won’t kill you.
One day my seven year old decided it would be great fun to push and pull me around in the water. I was just floating, and he’d pull me by my legs or push my shoulders. He spent about an hour just doing that, sometimes grounding me in the sand and sometimes realizing that he’d pushed me over the seagrass, from which he would rescue me. It was adorable and fun. One of those moments when everything seems right in the universe.
Cawing, Dive Bombing Crows
Back in the United States, I was at lunch with a former colleague who told me that she had a spirit experience that scared her. While walking to the community gym, a crow started cawing at her and diving at her head repeatedly, following her. On the way out, same thing. Probably the same crow.
What upset her was not just that a bird seemed to have it out for her, but that it landed on two signs in between attacking her. One sign said “no trespassing” and the other said “stop.”
She had the sense that the crow itself was a Spirit, and by that she meant, that it was a former person. It was near the unveiling date for two of her close relatives who had died in a car crash, but she didn’t think it was them. She had no strong intuitive sense of who exactly it might be. But Jewish lore and a very strong sense of being basically scared by the (many) interactions she has had with ghosts and other actual manifestations, the crow didn’t touch her but its behavior terrified her.
I think we may manifest our “warnings” in different ways based upon our beliefs. Ghosts and Spirit visits generally do not scare me. My system says that all visits are for the purpose of being helpful, or they are just passing through and nothing to worry about. On the rare occasion when something does send shivers up and down my spine or otherwise hits my system in a negative way, I know for certain that something is up because it is not normal for me.
When I think of a crow, I think of a Trickster and Jokester. If it were dive bombing my hair I am sure I would have reacted by telling it to get the hell away. I’d have said, if you have a message for me, just tell me. No need to get all crazy about it. I see you. I acknowledge you.
Some of us are scared by tropical fish and not ghosts; for others it’s the other way around.
Clearing The House
You know what has me scared today? The mundane clearing out of my house. I need to clean it, and I need to dive into the closets and start giving and throwing things away.
My entire system was thrown out of whack by my trip away and then returning to daily life, but without my kids and husband. There is something completely unnatural about being alone when you are married with children.
Sure, it is great to have a break from all of the daily running around and responsibilities. You can see friends, get to the gym, stay late at work if you need to. Once home, you get the place to yourself and your time is your own. You can write, meditate, and talk on the phone all night uninterrupted, if you wish.
When I was away, I would gladly spend half the day doing laundry for my family in the hot box. The laundry room there is ungodly hot. You want to grab your clothes from the dryer, stuff them back in the suitcase, and run for your life. You could lose 5 pounds of sweat in the time it would take to fold one load.
But back here, come the weekend when there is tons of time to take care of chores, I seem to not be able to buckle down to the task. If my husband were here, I’d be going at it whistling a happy tune.
Yesterday I ran into my ex-husband on Facebook. I have not seen or heard of him in many, many years. That got my mind working on old patterns. There are things that we would rather not repeat in life, and his appearance reminded me of some of them.
When I am with my husband, I feel grounded and safe. When I am all alone in a different country, I feel very much ill at ease. Something feels off and vaguely scary.
I’ve learned this last year and change that when challenges come up, I can meet them. When things go wrong, I can arrange to get the problem solved, most of the time.
I am aware that I am probably going to have to move soon. This house has twenty years of accumulated “stuff” from our marriage. It is a little dicey how I will relocate and be able to keep my kids in their schools.
This house is too much responsibility for me, in the sense that I don’t have the skills or knowledge to maintain it without my husband. It is falling into disrepair around me, and my husband can’t make time to come back and take care of it all. It is also expensive, and it is his dream.
The giant garage is sitting silently with what’s left of his tools. The rest were shipped to the Caribbean long ago, along with the tractor. The five acres don’t have a truck or van or work trailers anymore. There are no deliveries. No contractors coming and going.
It is nearly empty, except for the debris of things built long ago to be used, which are no longer needed by the man who does not live here anymore.
I am here, though. I’ve finally realized that even if my husband came home to live, we couldn’t afford to stay here. So in essence that part of our life is over, yet I remain. That’s not happy or comfortable. What I thought would be a two year job turned into something completely different, and that scares me.
What scares you?