Tonight I sit thinking about one thing in particular. It is something I find myself having a hard time explaining in words. Those who know it will understand but those who don�t may think I am nuts or deluded. I am talking about that which serves to guide us from within. I am not referring to our minds which calculate, reason things out and makes our decisions. I am not talking about our hearts or emotions which likewise can guide us. (Though this is some of it) What I am talking about is the gentle and subtle urgings of the spirit.
For a very long time now I have had numerous experiences that would seem to defy logic and even emotion. Some would call them psychic experiences others may call them coincidence. Some of these experiences over the years have been so exact or accurate that they have boggled those who have witnessed them. Sometimes friends or family, often total strangers. There are far too many to relate. Some such events are recorded in this journal, most are not. And while these events are varied in form and manifestation, I feel they all come from the same source. The same source which I feel whisper to me not in words, but in the understanding, �all is as it should be.�
The reason I ponder this tonight is because this inner guide seems to be speaking to me a lot lately. It is with me always and gives me insight into a great many things. I believe it is the light of life inside and therefore of God. And perhaps it is even more than that, it�s origin in creation itself, even the non living aspects of all that is. I feel it in the earth, the sky, animals, plants, other people and within myself. It is that which guides the artist�s brush, the poet�s pen and the performer�s motions and actions. It is Truth, beauty, grace and art. It is love. It can be found in all things and all events.
There are three things in particular that these gentle urgings seem to whisper to me. The first began when I was taking one of my nightly walks. I walk past this one church in town and have been by it many times. As I walked near it a few nights ago I felt the stirrings of my soul. I have come to recognize the subtle calling but still cannot understand the language. Perhaps I never will. Anyway I stopped and looked at the church. I realized that the feeling was not on the building, but on the sign out front. It listed the service times and a quote �Jesus is the Light�. Below that was the name of the pastor. It is a woman. The quote struck me with a sense of peace and I thought perhaps that was what got my attention. But over the years I have learned that I can begin to understand more fully by asking that inner voice for further guidance. I wondered if it was the phrase. That did not feel �right�. I looked at the name and I felt affirmed. So I wondered if I am meant to meet this pastor. I got no further insight. I sat on the steps of the church, meditating on the feelings for nearly an hour, but got nothing more.
It�s frustrating that way. A subtle, fleeting feeling. Seeming to say that there is something to do, perhaps an opportunity of some sort. Mostly that�s all the answer I get, vague and wispy. It is rare that it is exact or definite in any way. So I suppose that in this case I will attend one of the services and take a look at this pastor whom I have never seen or met. Perhaps that will give me more insight. Maybe she has something to teach me, or me her even. Maybe it�s something she might say in a sermon. I really don�t know. One thing for sure is that I have learned not to bother with trying to figure it out. Most of the time when I think I know what to expect, it turns out to be something totally different than what I expected. Like Allen�s influence in my life. I thought he would be the next great love of my life when I felt the spirit�s urgings (which I have termed the destiny effect in other entries). And it turned out that God had a different plan. It was my own desires and expectations which kept me from seeing clearly what that plan was.
The second thing it urges is to write a letter (e-mail these days) of appreciation and inspiration regarding Jason Guy of Big Brother 3. Many times I have done this in the past. Mostly of course with more common or non famous people. The strange thing though is that when I went to his website and saw that it was possible to send him an e-mail, I felt guided to another e-mail address and not his. I feel I am to write this to his brother Joshua and the rest of his family. I certainly feel that they are a big influence in his life and realize that without them he probably wouldn�t be who he is but I guess I just wasn�t expecting it. Maybe Jason is just God�s tool to serve his will elsewhere. I could be meant to touch or be touched by someone else he knows. Like I said, I have stopped trying to figure it out. I will just write the letter and see where it goes. Whether I am meant to know someone from this or meant only to serve as a voice of thanks and inspiration, I will gladly do it until I feel the spirit�s call no more.
The third thing is my feeling that when I get a job I am meant to pursue one at the local Wal-Mart. This sort of reminds me when I was in Ohio and my aunt Sue was taking me to fill out applications. We went to many places. She would ask me if I liked each place or not and I would tell her what I felt by this inner voice. We got to the Dairy Mart and even before she parked the car I looked and said to her, �Aunt Sue, this is where I am going to work.� She thought I was nuts, but I knew the intuition was real. The spirit�s voice was strong. I had no doubt that it was the place. I went in, got an application and took it home. I filled it out and took it back that night. Before I even got back home my aunt told me they had just called. I returned to the store and they hired me on the spot. Susie seemed amazed and asked me how I knew. It was simply a matter of faith. This Wal-Mart thing is not so definite as then, but who knows where it may lead?
It�s as I said, I can�t say for sure where any of these will lead or if they will lead anywhere at all, I only know that there is the calling. Perhaps I will find new and wonderful friends. I would like that. Perhaps I will touch the life or lives of another or they will touch mine. I do not know and may never know even if I had touched any. I only know that in the past when I have heard that voice and followed it�s urgings, many wonderful things have come to pass. Not always (at least not to my own knowledge), for perhaps I didn�t follow through or lost touch with it, but those things have happened more times than I can count.
Tuesday September 17th, 2002: A Friend in Need
Today around 4pm I went on one of my walks to the pond. I came across a sick little squirrel about an hour into it. He was in the middle of the trail and I noticed him when he stumbled toward me. His breathing was very labored and raspy and there were flies buzzing all about him. The scent of death was upon him. The poor little guy�s equilibrium was shot as he toppled in approaching me. He is a beautiful little gray and red fellow, not a gray squirrel and I don�t think he�s a red squirrel either. My father calls them pine squirrels. I am not sure what species he is.
I was taking in the wonder of all creation on my walk when I came across him. I sat watching him with great compassion as he hobbled over to me and desperately clung atop my left shoe. His beautiful little spirit was asking for my help. I felt quite helpless at his suffering and considered ending it so he could know peace. The flies had laid what must have been many hundreds of eggs on his little body. Oh lord, what else could I do? I took my shirt off and wrapped him in it, taking him down by the pond. I sat and prayed for God to give me the power to heal his pain. I tried to connect myself with all of creation and set to work as I had done with a kitten close to death once, long ago. That time was successful and I prayed for God to grant me strength to do the same today.
As with the kitten, I gently stroked along the little fellow�s spine, trying to give him my own warm, loving energy. He went into a deep sleep and his breathing became shallow, but improved. I decided it would be best to carry him home with me so that I could try to nourish him and keep him warm. When I got him home I put together a bed for him in an old cat box wrapped with towels. I got my fine toothed mustache comb and gently began trying to remove the fly eggs. He was awake now, still disoriented, and as I combed his little body he would begin to scratch like a dog does when you scratch behind his ear. I removed as many eggs as I could, but next to his skin they were so very dense and would not budge.
I went in the house and mixed together some milk and peanut butter to feed him. I figured that the mix of protein, fat and sugars would be easier for him to digest if he would take it. I used an eye dropper as I did when I raised Spiffy, my little gray squirrel that my mom�s cat got a hold of when his mother was moving him from one nest to another. Spiffy had very little hair and was very young, but I raised him to maturity and released him when he was old enough. I was happy to see this new little guy take well to the feeding and I gave him as much as he would eat. I made sure the mixture was warm and he ate much more than I thought he would. I tried removing more of the fly eggs but it seemed a lost cause so I took the chance and dusted him gently with some flea and tick powder, hoping that this would kill them before they could hatch and begin boring into his flesh. I hope it works and does not bring him any harm.
Right now he is in my bedroom sleeping. His breathing is strong and deep. But there is of course, no guarantee that he will survive. I pray that he will, but I am not even sure why he became sick in the first place. Hopefully it was only hunger or something that he can fight off. I will do everything I can to help him recover, and if he doesn�t, then at least he will not die in the cold damp of night, consumed alive by maggots. He came up to me for help. Of this I am sure. I could feel his suffering and the pleas of his gentle little spirit. How could I refuse?
Wednesday September 18th, 2002: One Coming Home
Well, it is now nearing 5pm. My little friend seemed to be doing well early this morning and even ate heartily. I wrapped towels around him and later put a heating pad under his bed of towels for added warmth. What I thought were fly eggs next to his skin was actually some sort of scaly mange like malady. A build up of dry skin like really bad, thick dandruff. I would check on him every couple of hours and I could feel and see him taking a turn for the worse. The life in his eyes became increasingly dim. I did everything I could think of to make him comfortable. He seemed to be trying so very hard to cling to life. He did not seem to be afraid at all and tried many times to crawl out of the box onto my lap when I fed him. I would pick him up and put him back in, talking to him gently.
At around 2pm I realized without doubt that he was losing the fight. Whatever was ailing him was beyond his ability to overcome. Though I tried to give him strength and energy it was clear that I could only try to make him warm and comfortable. I prayed that his suffering would soon end. About two hours later his struggle ended. He breathed his last, sprawled out his legs in a final convulsion and his little spirit was taken home. I let his little body rest peacefully for a little while until it started to stiffen, certain he was completely gone. I have just come in from burying his little body in the flower garden. I buried a few peanuts with him, it seemed right. I am not really sad but feel oddly serene. My mind is quiet. No sorrow, just compassion. His suffering is over and I am glad of it. I would have liked for him to live and grow, but I readily accept his fate and place my faith not in things of this world, but beyond.
I suppose that I could have ended his suffering early on as it seemed pretty hopeless from the start, but his struggle to hold on to life was so tenacious that I felt the need to give him the chance to try. I even went to Wal-Mart at 2 in the morning because the only eyedropper I had broke and I needed another to feed him with. It�s funny, but looking at the amount of time that has passed from when I first found him until his passing, I realize that it was right around 23 hours. I found him at about 5pm yesterday and he passed on at around 4pm today. Maybe I am just making my own coincidences where the number 23 is concerned, but I feel as though it is a subtle message. It does come up a lot. I realized recently that every time it comes up I think of God and Jesus. It used to frustrate me when it would always come up, but now I simply smile to myself and hear that gentle voice of �all is as it should be�. I won�t soon forget my brief but meaningful encounter with my little friend.
