Barking At Nothing – Both Me and the Dogs
At 2:30am on New Years Day 2016, the dogs started barking. Loudly. In unison. At “nothing.” Except it’s never nothing, is it? Just something this human could not see, even with all of the floodlights on, lighting up the acreage. Maybe an animal, maybe something else.
It took me forever to get back to sleep and when I woke, I had a Whatsapp message on my phone. Usually that means my husband, and that would have made sense since we had not wished each other Happy New Year the night before. But it wasn’t – it was another one of my international friends, from India, who had just received a new phone and was contacting me for the first time.
I took this as a sign, a cledon. If you’re not familiar with the term, cledonism is from the occult in classical antiquity, a type of divination based on chance encounters, or an omen.
I’d read a blog post of hers the night before, and was marveling at her shining, positive attitude about everything. Flood and famine, or a sweet cake, it’s all something to be grateful for.
Let’s face it, I am not a sunny-side up person. I am more apt to dwell in the mystery, which is sort of a shadowy place. When I am in the flow, I light up and sparkle sans glitter, attracting every ghost in the neighborhood, but Life is a lot more “chop wood, carry water” than my Pisces soul cares for.
I don’t long to do dishes. I cook through touch and sight, eat with glee, and then want someone else to do the dishes. The drudgery doesn’t appeal to me. Derek used to always say (and still does, when he visits, in sort of a loud whisper),”Boys, your mother could never do dishes right and she can’t see anymore, look here at what she missed. When I’m not here, you have to wash up behind her,” and he will take everything out of the dish drainer and rewash it.
And yes, this makes me grind my teeth. Until I go to put the dishes away and say,”Oh crap, look what I missed” and have to admit that he is right. This is also annoying and makes me angry all over again! Sometimes it is the silly things that get you.
So I was glad to hear from India before I had my coffee on the first day of the new year because it meant, in my mind, better things are coming, we’re moving into the light now (because that’s how I see her) with the shadow receding into the distance.
I’ve been walking around the deck thinking that everyone and everything has gone away. I could look at that as an opening for new and interesting opportunities, because if we don’t make space, we have no room.
Every time I make that observation and start counting the losses, don’t you know that every one of my friends come out of the woodwork to text or call, reminding me that my connections are vast and deep, only the quality ones I love remaining, everything else obliterated.
I’ve had 1,000 messages about receptivity, clearing the way for the new. Just because I don’t know exactly what the new looks like, I should still be open to The Unknown of the Mystery, because that is where the really good things happen.
Watch out, Calling, here we come. Possibly slowly, and dragging 20 garbage bags out to the street behind us, with children trailing behind bickering and dogs running in circles and barking behind us, but we’re coming.
When I get nostalgic, I remember how much of what I did not want was included. These are not little unwanteds, they are HUGE energy drains, problems, and oppression. I still have to remind myself, because the good was really good, and I miss it.
I know I cannot walk into the future of what recent events cleared the way for unless I bend a little and become receptive, curious, and far more open than I am used to. I opened Facebook to a post on exactly that topic – everything gets cleared away to make room when everything is illuminated. That’s the way it is supposed to work.
So this first morning of the year I made breakfast, threw on a little salt, onion and tomato for good measure, and realized I had everything I needed (for now) right there – oracle cards, pen and paper, my Kindle with The Magicians ready to read, and my laptop with Robert Ohotto’s latest podcast, three dogs at my feet and two children entertaining themselves. What more do I want on a Friday morning?
Ghosts In Attendance – Or Helpers?
I was opening a cabinet above my head with my youngest standing next to me chattering away. When I opened the door, a cup full of pencils and scissors fell out all around Luke but miraculously nothing hit him in the head. If you recall the story of the Indian ghost you’ll know that a lot of things happened here where something looks like it is trying to kill you from above – in that case, it was the blades of all of the ceiling fans in the house falling off, one at a time, in mid-spin, but never cutting anyone’s head off or even touching them. Luke was a toddler then, and the blades kept falling next to him.
I’d say whoever was around then is back now, because the morning of the pencils my relative called to warn me that something might be happening here at the house, and to watch out closely for the boys’ safety.
He’d been home and heard a belch. Since he lives alone, he looked out on the porch to see if anyone was there. They weren’t.
He heard the belch again.
He then heard a knocking sound. He opened the front door and no one was there. No one from UPS was around, either.
He started to get creeped out and turned on some music, a favorite female singer, to drown out the bad feeling. But in the song he started to hear the word beware.
He shook his head – was she really singing that? He didn’t think that was the lyric.
Then he heard be careful.
He drove off to the grocery store and heard a banging sound coming from the car. He figured it was something he had in the back, so when he got to the store he secured it.
On the drive home, he heard beware again, as plain as day, as if someone was speaking directly into his ear. Even though he’d secured what he thought was banging in the car, he heard a knocking again. Beware.
Then the top of a tree fell on his car. Not a single palm frond, which can still kill you if the tree is tall enough. The entire top of a tree. It hit the roof of his car, millimeters from his windshield, but there was no damage. The driver behind him almost lost control of their car, trying to avoid the tree bouncing in the road.
So I told him not to worry. We already had something fall on our head and miss us that day.
And as I tell you this story, the dogs are having a field day barking. I turn around in my chair and see vultures are everywhere, flying from tree to tree.
I wonder what’s dead.