Serialization of Sacred Vow: Woodland Soup

photo by Ruthieki

Sacred Vow is a metaphysical novel about a man who responds to the mysterious call of a woman, opening the way to redefinition of both himself and his understanding of the world around him. He takes his first steps on a journey to accept the world around him as a place to live, not simply a place to survive day-to-day. Sacred Vow is both a narrative and the means for the author to communicate a positive message about life and fully integrating the most into each moment. Highly recommended—Midwest Book Review

Installment 22 of 22 of the serializaton of Sacred Vow (Dragon’s Beard Publishing, ISBN: 978-0-9774271-4-7, paperback, Fiction: Visionary/Metaphysical).

Woodland Soup

The next thing Ian knew, he was propped against the arm of the couch with pillows behind him. He was covered with a sheet and blanket, and there was an aroma of lentil soup in the room. He was so weak he had to struggle just to open his eyes. Once he had them open, he couldn’t focus well enough to see. The most he could make out was the shadowy shape of a person in front of him.

“Welcome back, Ian.” It was Djalma’s voice. “Yes, you’re still in your house. I apologize for intruding.”

To Ian’s knowledge, Djalma didn’t have a car. How could he have managed the four-hour trip? Even more confusing, how did he get into the house?

“Not to worry. I didn’t break anything getting in.”

This was Djalma all right. Ian didn’t really care if anything had been broken. However he had entered, Ian was grateful for it. He wanted to thank Djalma but didn’t have the strength to speak. Right now, remaining conscious was all he could manage.

“I’ve been able to get you to drink some juice and water, but you haven’t been eating,” Djalma said.

Ian had no memory of drinking.

“It’s been a couple of days since your return. Maybe you could eat something now,” Djalma said. “I brought you some of my special woodland soup, gathered on one of my hikes just before I left home—Remember? I was making some on your first visit.” He laughed. “Just kidding. It’s regular soup.”

Ian could smell the spoon of soup below his nose.

Djalma coached him. “Try to open your mouth, buddy. You can’t heal without nutrition.”

A very little soup was all Ian could manage to eat. It seemed like only a few minutes passed, and yet he must have slept, as he was waking up again.

Djalma had pulled the desk chair beside the couch and was sitting there reading poetry out loud. The poem was referring to the mist and the mountains. It sounded like Taoist poetry.

When he saw that Ian was awake again, Djalma stopped reading and said, “Welcome home again.”

Ian could focus a little better than before. It was good to see Djalma’s smile. He tried to thank his friend once more, but abandoned it for a mere, “hello.” Even that sounded feeble.

“Is there anything I can get you, Ian?”

Ian’s reply of “woodland soup” was almost unintelligible, but Djalma laughed and patted his arm. He was back in just a minute. Ian suspected the soup was already on the stove, as he heard no sound from the microwave.

Ian sat up and fed himself a little. The effort of doing so hurt immensely, and he quickly lost the ability to use his arm. He didn’t mention this, but Djalma must have realized what was going on and began to help Ian with the soup.

Needing the assistance of a young man to feed him was humbling. It was not quite so humbling, however, as the affliction that had brought Ian to need the assistance.

For the next few days, Djalma made sure Ian had food and water. He did the laundry, kept him company, and helped him hobble back and forth to the bathroom. Ian was grateful for the company and the help.

Knowing that Djalma had to help him out of a mess only because he had ignored his advice shamed Ian considerably. Whenever he tried to apologize, though, Djalma cut him off and asked to be repaid with a promise of full recovery.

Until Ian was able to maintain consciousness long enough to carry on conversation, Djalma entertained them with reading poetry and philosophy aloud. Some of the books, he had brought. While waking to some of Djalma’s readings, Ian was reminded of items from his own shelves that had not been read in some time.

Several days later, Ian finally became cognizant enough to realize he had been out of work without explanation. When he tried to get up for the phone, Djalma explained that he had already told Ian’s manager that Ian had a severe virus and might need a couple of weeks to recuperate.

For some reason, Ian found that bit of magic a little harder to believe than most. Work was something he had never spoken to Djalma about. It was hard to accept that Djalma’s little inexplicable feats could have made their way into the stiflingly rational world of software. The doubt must have been apparent in Ian’s face. Djalma smiled and nodded.

“No big deal. You are very organized. The personal phone book under the phone has your manager’s name and numbers.”

Even so, Ian knew his manager’s name wasn’t listed under “I” or “M,” for “Ian’s Manager.” Who cares? he thought. By the time he considered the possible ways Djalma could have found the information, his interest in the subject was exhausted.

In another day or so, Ian was still too sluggish to function well at work, but he could have managed well enough at home. Ian was certain that Djalma stayed partially to make sure there wasn’t another rushed journey back to Katerina—and partially just as a good friend, visiting. Ian thought of telling Djalma he could go back to the mountains—but he didn’t know how his friend would get there—and besides, he was enjoying the company.

Card games passed the time. Some of the games Djalma knew; some of them Ian knew. Djalma’s poetry readings revived Ian’s interests and he in turn shared some of his own favorites, such as Emily Dickinson’s “Much madness makes divinest sense,” and pieces from a locally published collection called, Strike a Chord of Silence. Ian came to enjoy the Taoist poetry that Djalma introduced him to. The poets’ uncomplicated attention to nature, along with the accompanying ink drawings in one of the books, made Ian think of Katerina.

When Ian felt up to it, he told Djalma the story of his last visit—which had put him in the state in which his friend had found him. It was a way of thanking Djalma for his care.

“Thank you for making sure I knew to look for the reason Katerina and I were in contact with each other,” Ian started.

Djalma looked up from his book and smiled. “So, you know what that is now?”

“I think I have a starting point. And that bit of information probably saved my life. How did you know it would be so important?”

“I didn’t know,” Djalma replied. “The suggestion was based on pure intuition. I knew how remarkable what you were experiencing was, the reality expansions. It’s barely possible that one might encounter a sequence of random contacts over a very achieved lifetime, but this has been a repeating communication with a specific person. And if the contact isn’t random, I speculated there would have to be some powerful initiator to make such a thing come to pass.”

Djalma paused for a moment and then laughed to himself. “Most of all, I was making my suggestion out of a blind emotion. You could say I was being a mother hen.”

“Whatever your reason, Djalma, I don’t think I would be here if not for your insistence to repeat the Vow if I got lost. I am sure it allowed Katerina to help me out of a terrible situation.”

Sitting forward on the edge of his chair, Djalma laid the book on the table to his side. “Really, now? How did she help? I imagined that the only threat you might run into was the physical drain from visiting too frequently.

Ian tried to get off the couch alone. His body forced him to reconsider just what was involved in jumping from one reality to another. Ever since he ceased to be bonded to someone else’s body when in a parallel life, most of the impact on Ian seemed to be mental or emotional. His experience in the void showed that if he mishandled the gift of reality shifting it could cost him his life.

Djalma was up and offering assistance. “No need to rush yourself.”

“I was just going to get a piece of paper.” Ian settled back onto the couch but remained upright. He pointed over to a stack of books to one side of the room. “Could you please? There is a piece of paper inside the flap of that top book. Have a look at it.”

Opening the book, Djalma stared down at the inside flap for a while.

“Read it, please,” Ian said.

As Djalma read aloud, Ian recited along.

Both fell silent before finishing the Vow—as if simultaneously realizing that it was something not to be recited without specific intention.

Djalma asked, “This is the Sacred Vow?”

“Yes. And I think it has something to do with the immediate reason that Katerina and I are in communication. It seems we have made a very strong commitment to each other. I am certain that quoting this verse allowed Katerina to pull me out of a disaster during my last journey.”

“Would you like some tea, Ian?” Djalma started to walk to the kitchen.

Ian was surprised at Djalma’s subdued response. Ian thought the story he was about to tell was something remarkable.

Djalma called back from the doorway, “I assume you’ll need some food and drink while you fill me in on the gaping holes in your story.”

While Djalma made tea, Ian managed to get up and move about. It was an odd pain that he had, mostly internal, like that poison he’d felt in the dark days before Djalma had given him the token. Every part of Ian’s body hurt, but he was much improved from when he first returned from that last visit—Ian suddenly thought about Katerina and her baby. Why couldn’t he have helped her?

Ian stood motionless, lost in his memory until Djalma returned with tea and food, and broke into his thoughts.

“So your recent visit was something troublesome?” Djalma asked.

Ian moved slowly toward the couch. “Yes I had a visit with a manifestation of Katerina with a baby. It was really painful. Someone was taking the baby away from her.”

Just recalling it drew Ian’s consciousness back to that place. “I couldn’t help her, and I was getting angry and panicked. I think my strong emotions about the situation eventually forced me out of that alternate life.”

Djalma seemed to have some idea why Ian was stumbling over his words. “You’re not completely disengaged from that place yet, are you?”

The question didn’t make much sense to Ian. He took the residual emotions that he felt to be no more than anyone else would feel after a traumatic experience. Of course he would never be the same afterwards! He had been utterly useless in saving someone he cared about from harm. More than someone he cared about! Someone he was deeply connected to.

“Please tell me how the visit ended, Ian.”

“I could do nothing but watch as they took the baby from her. Katerina was suffering greatly.”

Djalma was very patient. He seemed to have some idea of his friend’s need to take time going through his recounting of the event.

“My rage became so intense,” Ian said, “that I found myself back on this couch just when Katerina was about to be harmed. I got bounced out of that reality. One moment I was struggling to help her and the next, I could only see the light of my study coming through my eyes.

“The return was painful, as though I physically collided with this location, and sort of rebounded, feeling not quite in this world, not fully out of it.”

Ian became silent periodically. At each delay, Djalma would wait for a time and then call on Ian to continue. It was a good thing, because otherwise, Ian would become completely mired in the memory of that moment.

“I don’t remember exactly how it happened, but I had an unfamiliar sensory experience. Instinct told me that this particular sensation was the doorway back to the place I had just left. I felt like I was still in the recoil of the returning bounce, and so I directed all my attention and emotion at the doorway.”

Djalma cringed and ducked his head.

“Yes. You know what happened then,” Ian continued. “You told me not to rush the time between trips, but I wasn’t thinking straight. I was certain that if I could make the instant return, I would be able to handle the result.”

“Did you make it back?” Djalma asked.

Remembering the place where he landed made Ian flinch. “I didn’t see the woman again.” Before continuing, he took a moment to mourn her misery silently.

Ian was realizing how entangled he remained with the alternate existence he actually visited—Djalma was absolutely right—he now saw that he had still not disengaged from the world of the suffering Katerina and child. There was something cathartic about exposing the experience to his conscious mind, and speaking about it. But separating from her was saddening. Now, he felt he was leaving her truly alone and abandoned.

“I feel certain that you’re only a spectator in their worlds, Ian. You cannot affect what is already the reality there.”

Recalling some of his own speculations he was left with over the last few visits, Ian stopped Djalma. “I’m not so sure of that any more, my friend, but let’s talk about that later.

Djalma handed Ian a bowl of hot soup and placed a cup of tea on the table by the couch. They ate quietly.

After he finished his soup, Ian tried to continue with the story. “When I tried to return to Katerina and the child, I got into some kind of in-between realm. There was no light, and it drained any energy out of me that I called up. I had to hold my emotions in check. Every time I allowed myself any emotion, it felt like part of my physical body was being literally torn away.”

As he spoke, Ian reflexively raised his voice and said, “Damn, that hurt!”

Djalma recoiled at the loudness of Ian’s voice.

Ian didn’t say anything more for a while.

After some time passed, Djalma asked, “Are you all right?”

“Oh. Yes. Sorry, I was just remembering,” Ian said. “Not good. I felt like I was dying in that dark place, being drained of my life energy. I was stuck in some kind of void. Then I decided to gamble that you were right about focusing on the Sacred Vow if I got into trouble. I directed all the energy I had left at it.”

Djalma smiled. “That was a pretty big chance to take.”

“Not really,” Ian replied. “I didn’t have any other option.”

“Do you think repeating the verse was what got you free from the void?” Djalma asked.

“I think it made the Katerina of my tea visions hear me. Before I found myself back here and passed out, I was in her house. She fanned some smoky concoction over me. Then she told me to go home and come back when I was rested.

“The next thing I knew, I was on the couch, in great pain, and losing consciousness. After that, you were here.”

Sitting back and drawing a big breath like a kid at the end of a grand adventure story, Djalma said, “It sounds as if Katerina is the one you should thank. Not me.”

“Oh, I thank you as well,” Ian assured him. “But I am grateful to her. I thank her for so much more than just getting me back home. I wish I could get back to her, to tell her so. But I have no control over my destinations.”

Djalma made a funny little sideways motion with his head as if he were about to do something that he was trying to resist. “I may regret this,” he said. “But I know it means too much to you not to mention it, if I think this is a possibility.”

He had Ian’s attention. “What have you got, old man?” Realizing what he’d said, Ian wondered what was it about Djalma that made him seem like an aged familiar despite his youth?

“You may not have navigational control—”

Djalma paused as a tease, and it worked. Ian became fully alert, certain that Djalma was about to offer the treasure that he had been fruitlessly searching for.

“But it seems Katerina is able to help you.” Djalma grinned and sat back in his chair.

“Come on now,” Ian pleaded. “How is she going to help? If there is a choice, I will gladly return to the Katerina of the tea visits each time!”

“The verse,” Djalma said. “That verse must be something that you and she can use to contact each other. You repeated the verse over and over when in the void, and she brought you out of it, directly to her. Maybe, just maybe, if you enter a meditation while repeating the verse, like a mantra, she can hone in on you and guide you to her location.”

“All right!” Ian attempted to spring up from the couch. “Ooooh!” As pain hit him, he collapsed into a hobble. Eventually his movement smoothed into something of a walk.

“I think that might be it, Djalma. I won’t have to fall into those random lives, suffering along with unhappy, unknowing versions of our existences together.”

“Don’t be careless and make me regret telling you,” Djalma said. “It’s only speculation. It’s also possible your return to Katerina is not something that can be repeated.”

Still walking somewhat clumsily around the room, Ian shook his head. “No, what you said about the verse rings true with me. I might have needed you to bring it to my attention, but now that I’ve heard the words, I feel its truth, deep within myself.

“I have to tell you, a few more visits as unhappy as the last handful, and I don’t know that I could keep taking those trips. I’m certain Katerina and I need to be in touch with each other, but I don’t believe the random locations are beneficial. In fact those interactions may be causing some harm.

“If Katerina and I can work to help each other, I’m sure we will be able to achieve our purpose—whatever it is.”

Djalma picked up his book and went back to reading. Ian was concentrating on exercising his weak muscles. “One thing you’ll need to consider,” Djalma added. “Even if Katerina can consistently bring you back to her location, there’s some reason she did not attempt to heal you after you were retrieved from the void.”

Ian slowed down and stared at Djalma skeptically. He was about to take offense at Djalma’s speculation.

“Don’t you think she would have mended your damage if it was possible?” Djalma said. “Even though you two can communicate, you still exist in completely separate primary realities. Katerina may have sent you home because it was impossible to make you well in her home world.”

Ian started to drop some of his defensiveness. “So, what are you suggesting, Djalma?”

“Keep exercising. Eat well, friend. I’m sure Katerina will share what she can, but you’re going to have to attend to your own well-being.”

Ian picked up a pillow from a chair close by and threw it at Djalma. The effort was feeble, posing only a comic threat to Djalma. It fell to the floor well before his feet.

“You need more practice, Ian. Get to work.” Djalma laughed and returned his attention to his book.

Moving around the furniture, Ian said, “You’re a good friend, Djalma.”

Over the next week or so, Ian told Djalma about all his other journeys. The two friends speculated on what the experiences meant, and spent some time discussing unrelated philosophies and sharing their individual poetry favorites. Before long, Ian was able to move more naturally, and felt well enough to make some meals in gratitude for all the help he had been given.

As soon as he could, Ian drove Djalma back to the mountains. It turned out that Djalma didn’t have a vehicle—but did not say how he had traveled to Ian’s house. On the way home, Djalma asked Ian to stop at Liz’s place. She had a fine meal prepared for the three of them, and they spent a few contented hours together.

At Liz’s insistence, Ian spent the next few days with her. She didn’t really seem to care to hear about his adventures. Mostly, she and he spent leisure time enjoying each other’s company. The added stay was very beneficial to Ian. Exercise in the mountains, good food, and good company were returning Ian to prime health. The loving support of another dear friend did him more good than anything else could have.

Djalma didn’t come back around Liz’s house before Ian left. Ian wondered if all Djalma’s nursing efforts had worn him out. He pictured his friend roaming in the woods for a month before Liz would hear any more from him.

Thanking Liz and expressing his love for her as he left, Ian asked that she pass his affections to Djalma as well.

“I’ll be back in touch soon,” he said.

Liz smiled and went straight to the issue that had not been mentioned since he got to her house. “You have some visiting to get back to, don’t you, sweetie?”

“Yes, Liz. I’ll be smarter this time.”

“Katerina will be counting on that as well,” Liz said, as she waved and went back into the inn.

It was true. His friends had completely revitalized him, and Ian was eager to put their results to good use as soon as he got home. He didn’t mention it to Liz or Djalma, but he had taken additional leave from work, certain that he had more important business to finish.

copyright 2006 CG Walters

This is the Final Installment of the serialized portion of Sacred Vow —about mid-way through the novel…

Thank you for your continued support.

Blessings all,

CG

C.G. Walters primarily writes fiction that focuses on the multidimensionality of our loves and our lives. Autographed/signed copies of his current novel, Sacred Vow, are available from the author– or purchase from Amazon as ebook , paperback, or Kindle version

Receive new editions of Into the Mist through a reader http://feeds.feedburner.com/IntoTheMist

Please join me as a friend at any of my other favorite hangouts: Facebook, Gaia, Myspace, StumbleUpon, Friendfeed, Twitter, Plurk, or Digg

CelebraZine 01Jan09

When deeds and words are in accord, the whole world is transformed. –Chuang Tzu

~KES presents You Are The Reason ~by Bonnie Ste. Croix

You Are The Reason ~by Bonnie Ste. Croix

If you could take silence and make it be words
If you could take children and let them be heard
If you could take war and let it be peace
The sun would rise on a world that’s free.

If you could take shame and let it be pride
If you could shine light on the places you hide
If you could bring soldiers back to their lover’s arms
The sun would rise on a peaceful morn.

If you could take Earth and heal all her wounds
And know every small step is gonna help it come true
If you could see beauty in everyone’s eyes
Then you are the reason for the sun to rise

If we could begin, think of how it would feel
To slow down the pace now, and let yourself heal
To love that there’s difference, to love that there’s same
One by one in the world now, we’ll make it change, we’ll make it change

If you could take Earth, and heal all her wounds
And know every small step is gonna help it come true
If you could see beauty in everyone’s eyes
Then you are the reason for the sun to rise
Then you are the reason for the sun to rise.
Then you are the reason for the sun to rise

BE THE REASON.

Happy New Year, Dear Ones!!! You are the reason for the sun to rise!!

This  concludes today’s posting of CelebraZine (eZine to Celebrate What’s Right in the World), a ‘running blog carnival’ (of posts both found and shared with me) that uplift and inspire…. an inspiration of sayings, video, audio (music and speech), images, poetry–anything and everything that feeds the positive in heart, spirit, and mind.

Our focus dictates what we see, which reinforces our focus, further confining the possibility of what we will see.

May you be blessed by these offerings reminding us of the beauty, wonder, and sacredness in the world around us and within us.

Celebrate yourself!

Be a part of the expression of celebration. Submit your submission (containing text, image, video, and audio, poetry,  quotes, etc.) anytime for the daily installments of CelebraZine, a ‘running blog carnival’ of What’s Right  in the World.

Note: Even if you are not the blogger of the work you’d like to suggest, but have noticed someone’s work that you think should be included in a Celebration of What’s Right in the World, –empowering people and spirit–please point out the work to us.

Blessings, dear ones,

CG

C.G. Walters primarily writes fiction that focuses on the multidimensionality of our loves  and our lives. Autographed/signed copies of his current novel, Sacred Vow, are available from the author– or purchase from Amazon as ebook , paperback, or Kindle version

Receive new editions of Into the Mist through a reader  http://feeds.feedburner.com/IntoTheMist

Please join me as a friend at any of my other favorite hangouts: Facebook, Gaia, Myspace, StumbleUpon, Friendfeed, Twitter, Plurk, or Digg

The Serialization of Sacred Vow: The Void

photo by Señor Taco

Sacred Vow is a metaphysical novel about a man who responds to the mysterious call of a woman, opening the way to redefinition of both himself and his understanding of the world around him. He takes his first steps on a journey to accept the world around him as a place to live, not simply a place to survive day-to-day. Sacred Vow is both a narrative and the means for the author to communicate a positive message about life and fully integrating the most into each moment. Highly recommended—Midwest Book Review

Installment 21 of 22 of the serialization of Sacred Vow (Dragon’s Beard Publishing, ISBN: 978-0-9774271-4-7, paperback, Fiction: Visionary/Metaphysical).

The Void

Nothing unfolded. The densest black veil swallowed Ian, smothering every sensation.

He waited patiently for images to appear, hoping he was in time to help Katerina retrieve her baby. Transition between consciousness in Ian’s physical world and his parallel lives had been taking longer recently. But after a few minutes of nothing, he could not remain patient.

“Come on,” Ian tried to scream, “before he hurts her!”

He heard no scream, felt no sensation in his vocal cords. Instead, he felt a physical—or at least neural—sensation of something being drained from him—whatever he was in that dark place.

The sensory deprivation under this shroud of absolute black was both internal and external. His mind twisted about, trying to cope with no sensations at all. It soon became uncomfortably obvious to Ian that his mind had never before been without some form of sensory input. Even when one is asleep there is a steady flow of messages, if only from the body’s involuntary functions.

Ian wondered what his body was doing. He had never been aware of any bodily sensations from his primary reality when visiting before, but this was not one of the ordinary reality shifts. In a usual shift, it was possible, Ian imagined, that he continued to receive messages from his body back home but was always distracted because of what was happening in the visit. He seemed now to be lost somewhere between his primary reality and the place he hoped he would visit soon.

Or, he thought, maybe this place is just a different reality, one that I’m having a harder time than usual comprehending. Maybe I just have to let go of my preconceived expectations.

It dawned on Ian that this place might not have been where he originally intended to go, but Katerina might well be here anyway.

What he was sure of was that Katerina in that last world needed him. He had to go back there. No matter how he tried to ignore it, Ian knew he was going to have to accept that even a reduced time frame between trips would not help him return to a previous life.

He wanted to flail about and curse, but the void he was in had sucked all anger out of him. Instantly, he had a sensation of collapse where anger should have been, and he felt all the more exhausted for it. More than exhausted. Diminished. As if his existence was less certain than it had been a moment before. The threat of losing not only his life but his entire existence to this void was filling Ian with a unique sense of fear.

No matter how much Ian wanted to help that unfortunate manifestation of Katerina, he had to accept the possibility that he might not even be able to help himself. Every emotion or thought he experienced seemed to take away more of his life energy.

The loss of energy from his feelings was worse than that of thought. Ian decided to clamp down on any emotion. Each time he got upset, he experienced an excruciating void in its place. Thus he knew he could not afford to allow himself to feel anything. So, he used the process of releasing emotion that he learned in his mediation practice. Just let it go, he told himself, breathe in . . . It was easier when he’d had the sensation of breathing to focus on.

Suddenly from nowhere, Ian was blindsided by a new rush of fear. What if I am dead? His emotions took off running. And the backlash of the emptiness that followed was unbearable.

“O-o-oh hell-ll,” he wailed.

Just then, Ian realized something positive. If he was hurting, he was not dead! For the first time ever, he was thankful he could feel pain. It allowed him to release the fear and drift in the void.

Thought did not have as negative an effect, Ian had noticed. He had only a slight twinge of pain after a thought.  Still, he had to ration his activity. He decided that he had better focus any thought on getting himself out of whatever he had gotten into.

Ian was sure he had to be lost in-between. Djalma had warned him it could happen. “You could get lost in the transition,” Djalma had said. So, here he was, no good to Katerina or to himself.

Ian searched for an answer. Was there something else Djalma had said that might be helpful? He is a smart one, that Djalma, Ian thought. If he thought something would be useful, he would probably have repeated the phrase or idea more than a time or two.

His mind was proving particularly intolerant of limited sensory input. Ian’s thoughts alone were not providing enough stimuli. This had to be what it felt like to die, awareness collapsing in on itself.

But there had to be something Djalma had repeated most. He would have done that. He would have tried to prepare me without being pushy, Ian thought.

Then Ian remembered: the Vow! Djalma had said to remember the Vow!

“Think on the Vow,” he told himself. “It doesn’t matter if it makes sense.”

Who could know about the Vow, except Katerina? Thinking of not being able to help her and her child caused Ian to feel pain again. For feeling that flash of sympathy, he suffered another ripping sensation of the void.

As loud as he could muster, he recited the Vow:

I offer this Sacred Vow to you alone. If ever you are in need, expect me to reach beyond possibility and take your hand. As you feel the warmth of our bond, know that you will never be forgotten, never be alone, and never be without this one enduring love.

Over and over, Ian repeated the Vow to himself. The rhythm of the verse was hypnotizing. Ian noticed that the darkness seemed slightly less oppressive.

Blurry light broke through to his eyes. A shadow appeared in front of him—a figure leaning over as to touch his head. It was the Katerina of the tea visions. Ian yearned to touch her . . . and he did not feel the pain of losing a part of himself!

“Oh, Ian, what have you done to yourself?” she said. “Go home and be healed. This is very dangerous for us. Come back to me when your spirit has recovered, dear one.” She fanned some herbal smoke across him, and Ian lost consciousness.

When he woke up, Ian saw that he was in his study, and that it was sometime during the day. Judging from the light in the windows, it was around midday. It had been early evening, right after work, when Ian had first entered into the meditation. He could not see a clock or even manage to raise his watch arm, so he didn’t know if it was the next day, or some day following. What he did know was that he was miserable.

Lying flat on the couch in his study, he tried to move. He knew he needed food, but the pain from the first attempt to stir almost made him sick. He gritted his teeth and tried to hold on to his awareness, but he could not. He blacked out again.

Next week is the Final Installment of the serialized portion of Sacred Vow, Woodland Soup

copyright 2006 CG Walters

Thank you for your continued support.

Blessings, dear ones,

CG

CG Walters primarily writes fiction that focuses on the multidimensionality of our loves  and our lives.

Autographed/signed copies of his current novel, Sacred Vow, are available from the author– or purchase from Amazon as  ebook , paperback, or Kindle version

Receive new editions of Into the Mist through a reader  http://feeds.feedburner.com/IntoTheMist

Please join me as a friend at any of my other favorite hangouts: Facebook, Gaia, Myspace, StumbleUpon, Friendfeed, Twitter, Plurk, or Digg

Dangerous Choice

photo by h.koppdelaney

C.G. Walters wrote a compelling tale of the inter-dimensional meeting of a couple, overcoming the boundaries of the physical world and defying the three dimensional laws of science as we know it. In these times of spiritual awakening we are all (well many, many souls on earth) experiencing this concept does not seem as far fetched as it would in the past. I warmly recommend this book to all those who have fascination, as I do, for all things metaphysical, and the interaction between different potentials of different worlds. I have read of mediums and psychics who can “go behind the veil” see a whole set of different “potentials”, a scenario that is very confusing for us humans.

In “The Sacred Vow” C.G. Walters “went behind the veil” and conjured a magical reality of two lovers, their two souls coming together in different potentials, lives and worlds.

So, I’d like to congratulate C.G. Walters on his masterpiece and encourage the publication and warm acceptance of behalf of the reading public of this book and others of the genre that expands our minds and leads us through new exciting horizons.—Yael Oren Lewis, painter/translator

Installment 20 of 22 of the serialization of Sacred Vow (Dragon’s Beard Publishing, ISBN: 978-0-9774271-4-7, paperback, Fiction: Visionary/Metaphysical).

Dangerous Choice

Ian did not like what he saw and felt when he arrived in the next parallel life. If it had been an option, he would have gone right back to his couch; better an ordinary day after work than where he found himself. It was hard to imagine that this place had anything to do with Katerina, or with any time they had spent together.

He was moving through filthy, stinking streets filled with huge numbers of poor, destitute people without resource or hope. He could hear many sounds in this world, mostly a cacophony of voices—too many voices—sorrowful, angry, and suffering. The voices drowned out even the sounds of machines and big-city racket.

Ian’s point of view seemed to move too fast, and he was too high to be seeing from the eyes of a person. He watched from significantly above the heads of the people below, as if through the lens of a camera guided by some intention unknown to him. Why was he here?  Was Katerina in this reality at all?

Then his point of view began to lower. He turned a corner and slowed as a tattered woman carrying a baby came out of a dilapidated building just in front of him. Ian resisted admitting it, but an all too reliable intuition assured him that this was Katerina. Oddly, he had no feelings of curiosity whatsoever as to the identity of the child. If the child was his and Katerina’s, this would be the first alternate life in which they were parents. But what a place to raise a child!

Ian drifted behind and somewhat above Katerina. She was hurrying along as if she were being pursued. Since Ian seemed to be disembodied, he did not believe it could be he, whatever he was, who troubled her.

She spoke to the child. Her language was foreign, but Ian was not surprised that he understood her. He had become accustomed to this. Despite all the overwhelming babble of the people on the street, he was tuned into her alone.

“Don’t worry, Eestu. Momma will find a place where he cannot hurt us,” she said.

Perhaps because the baby was being jostled as Katerina rushed away, perhaps because it could feel its mother’s distress, the child began to whimper.

“Sh-ssshh, baby. It’s going to be all right. I’ll get you food soon.”

The mother and child also had to contend with hunger? Ian definitely did not want to see this. But once he knew this was Katerina, he could not wish to leave. Even if he tried, it never appeared that Ian had a choice about when to leave or what do to once he entered into these parallel lives.

The baby continued to be bumped about, as the mother tried to force her way through the crowds. All the people were as dirty and ragged as she was. Some cursed her as she pushed by them. Once, someone struck out at Katerina as she moved past. Ian tried to lunge to her defense, but his bodiless self left him unable to pursue the desire.

Why am I here? he demanded of himself. I cannot interact with Katerina. I cannot help her.

Just below Ian, entering his field of vision, two men were walking up behind Katerina very quickly. Ian was terrified that they intended to harm her.

Katerina had obviously expected someone to follow her. As the men forced their way through the crowds, people responded angrily. When the men got closer, Katerina saw them and tried to run, but the wandering crowds held her back. All she did was bounce off the back of the man in front of her.

She abruptly turned down an alley. It was less congested and allowed her to run.

Of course, as soon as her pursuers got to the same alley, they were also able to speed up. Still Ian followed, now behind the men chasing her. A hungry woman carrying a baby could not have outrun them for long, even if a huge pile of trash had not blocked the entire alley a little further down.

The baby was screaming now, as loud as it could. Katerina tried running up the pile but slipped back down. She backed up against the wall and tried to use it for support to climb. Still she slid down on the loose rubble as the men approached confidently. They were no longer in a hurry, knowing she could not escape.

Ian’s own movement was slowed in response, but his emotions were rampant. He felt her panic as if it were his own. He thrashed about within the uncontrollable restrictions of his invisible confinement as desperately as Katerina did below.

Forced to accept that she could not overcome the pile, Katerina turned and dashed toward her pursuers. As she ran she added her own tormented wail to that of the baby’s. Her pursuers laughed, delighted at her suffering.

The larger of the men stepped to one side, as if he would let Katerina go by. Just as she saw the opening and moved toward it, he grabbed the arm that held the baby and jerked her toward him. It was amazing she did not drop her little bundle, given the force he used.

“And just where d’ya think ya’re going? Thought ya would slip away without paying Mr. Chen-ye what he’s owed?”

“Leave her alone!” Ian yelled, heard by no one but himself. The dim light that filtered into the alley began to flicker.

Katerina was looking only at her baby, trying anxiously to soothe its fears, speaking first softly to the child. “Shh, Eestu, Sh-h-h.” Then she raised her face to respond to her attacker. “I’m going to get food for my baby. You can see that she is hungry.”

The smaller man responded, “You got no money to pay. Where ya gonna get food? Maybe you were shopping at the alley mission here?” He laughed nastily, looking at the larger man for approval.

Defiant and trying to maintain her dignity, Katerina jerked her arm to free it from the big man’s grip.

“Let go of me!”

He raised the back of his other hand, to slap her. Ian fought to intervene, but could not overcome his limitations.

The large hand froze in the air. Then he slowly lowered it and said, “There’s no hurry for this. First, ya tell how ya’re going to pay what is owed.”

Katerina looked with horror, at one man then at the other. She clutched the baby all the tighter. “My husband, he took Mr. Chen-ye his due this morning. He left out just before I did.”

“Husband? What husband?” said the big man.

“The baby’s Da—” she shot out. “—My husband has what’s due.”

Ian suspected the mid-morning skies were as clear as they probably ever got, considering the air was dense with smog and stench, but even that limited light was wavering in the alley.

The smaller man snorted. “How about that, Ammon? She’s got a husband.” Showing his contempt for her hope, he spat on the street near Katerina’s ragged semblance of a shoe. “There ain’t no marriage on the streets.”

Stroking the baby, she said stubbornly, “I have a husband! Just because you didn’t see him—”

The larger man jerked Katerina’s arm again, demanding her attention to their business. “Forget that craziness! Something is owed and no husband has paid it.”

Katerina was crying silently. Tears left tracks down her dirty cheeks.

Ian lunged for the larger man, hoping against hope that the tension building within him would translate into effect. But he was denied once again.

Katerina was stroking the child and mumbling to herself. “He won’t forget. He’s always with us.” Over and over, she repeated this. The chant was starting to annoy her captor.

“Shut up, you! Listen to me!” To get her attention, he jerked her arm again, harder, shaking her whole body side to side, but she seemed scarcely aware of what was happening. Then everything went black and silent.

“What the . . . ?” Ian screamed.

He fought to see, but with no physical eyes, there was no place to direct his focus. Then, just as suddenly, the vicious nightmare in the alley was back.

“Ya only got one thing worth somethin’,” the larger man continued. He applied his free hand to the baby daughter that Katerina held. “You’re too feeble to work, in the alleys or ‘Under,’ but the baby—”

His companion took the cue and grabbed Katerina by her shoulders. The two men began to separate her from her only interest in life. The small man pulled her arms back while Ammon, slowly, but effectively, pried the baby from her hands. Now her cooing chant rose into a piercing scream. Her lungs were strong enough. The sound she made quickly irritated her attackers. Ammon yanked the baby from her grasp and shoved her to the ground.

The two men turned to leave with their payment.

Ian managed a quick movement toward the men. Finally, he could help her! But all went black again. Katerina’s cursing screams went dead. And Ian could hear nothing.

Then the screams shot through his nervous system once again and Ian saw Katerina kicking the huge man in the back of his knees.

“Give me my baby, you bastard!” There followed a jumble of words spewing out too emotionally to be completely formed. Most of what came from her mouth was nothing but the unintelligible sounds of a suffering soul.

Ian managed another convulsive move, but he could not sufficiently direct it.

Katerina’s feet did little but make the man hunch his shoulders in anger. He slowly handed the howling baby to his companion, who grinned excitedly. Then the larger man turned and drew back a foot to kick her.

Before the kick was released, Ian experienced complete darkness and then a blast of light. But, the light was the light of his own home. He was sitting on the couch. A roar forced its way out of his mouth. The cry was not merely due to his frustration, but in response to the physical pain that shot through his nervous system.

Coming back from the trip so abruptly, Ian felt like he had been slammed at high speed into something solid. His body felt broken in many places; and his spirit was still bleeding for Katerina’s defeat. He tried to rise from the couch. But before he got all the way to his feet, he fell back again, about to lose consciousness from the pain that still surged through him.

Ian had to fight hard not to lose the light again. This was his primary reality, and he had some control here. He would not allow himself simply to black out! Waves of faintness battered him. The throbbing in his body was working against him.

“Katerina,” he shouted, “I am coming back!” Ian could not accept that there was nothing he could do for her. He had to try again to help her. Despite Djalma’s warnings, Ian was determined to force himself back into the transfer immediately. There was no time to wait. Maybe his inability to return to the same location was a matter of temporal proximity. Ian feared that if he waited for his spirit to recoup and recalibrate, the next shift would take him someplace else.

He had a fleeting sensation of being connected to her again, and he grabbed it. Instantly he felt a shift in his consciousness. Either he passed out or he was successful in projecting himself into back-to-back visits. He could only wait to see what sight unfolded in front of him.

Continued next week, The Void

copyright 2006 CG Walters

Thank you for your continued support.

Blessings all,

CG

C.G. Walters primarily writes fiction that focuses on the multidimensionality of our loves  and our lives. Autographed/signed copies of his current novel, Sacred Vow, are available from the author– or purchase from Amazon as  ebook , paperback, or Kindle version

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Eyes of Another

photo by alicepopkorn

You have a way of carrying the reader to places that could only be experienced by highly trained individuals, places that a mind can get lost in. What a book! I mean, it gets you questioning things beyond the book….is this the real Katerina we’re seeing? Maybe one of her other parallel lives is more dominant, is the real life? Do we all live parallel lives? Can we access them? etc, etc, etc…..you see? It’s got me asking a million questions and I love it. – Annia Lekka , Author of Fish Tail Mountain

Installment 19 of 22 of the serialization of Sacred Vow (Dragon’s Beard Publishing, ISBN: 978-0-9774271-4-7, paperback, Fiction: Visionary/Metaphysical).

Eyes of Another

On Monday Ian called Liz to let her know he’d gotten home safely. After thanking her for inviting him to such a lovely party, he asked that she pass his thanks to Djalma.

“I love you, dear friend,” he said.

“And I, you, sweetie,” she replied.

“I’ll let you know when I’ve made another visit,” he assured her.

A couple of days later, Ian realized he had not taken the teapot into the study since the evening of his last visit with Katerina. Remembering Djalma’s speculation that he, not the items in the room, was the portal now, Ian removed a few more items from the study. In an act of daring, he moved the Fauvist painting into the guest room, and the cane-bottomed chair to the living room. He had really wanted them in those rooms for some time but had not dared take the chance. He also made a note of what he had moved and where, just in case he still needed their psychic assistance.

Just so his friends would not worry, Ian called Liz a little later that week. They had a good talk. She had not seen Djalma for a few days. Ian told her he was not considering attempting a visit until the following week.

As eager as he was to see Katerina again, Ian’s inner wisdom seemed to provide a contented patience. He could not say why he felt he needed to wait. But as long as the respite felt right, he would wait.

In time that same judicious part of him gave Ian the go-ahead for more time with Katerina. The next few visits, however, made him question whether that supposedly wise self really knew what it was doing. He did not know what made the difference between the visit that had introduced the Sacred Vow and the next few that followed, but it turned out not to be an easy time for him.

With no more rational understanding than Ian had when he knew not to attempt a visit, one day after work, Ian’s intuition led him to go into the study and sit on the couch. For a little while, he leaned back thinking of nothing, shaking off the workday. Without particular forethought, he pulled his legs up and crossed them.

Katerina and he (or the person whose eyes Ian saw her through) lived in a city. They were in a windowed apartment of a multistory building. Their large living space was not without considerable evidence of affluence. There were expensively framed, original paintings on the walls. Much of the furniture was ornate, solid wood. Several of the articles had the uniqueness of handmade work, and Ian felt certain a number of the pieces were antiques. The floor had an exotic pattern of inlaid wood, covered with finely crafted rugs. The technology of appliances and the buildings he could see through the windows suggested this life took place in the present, the very near past, or in the near future.

Only intuitively did Ian recognize the woman in the room as Katerina. Maybe Djalma would have said it was honing in on her energetic signature. Her behavior and appearance was different, but Ian had no question this was she.

“Where have you been?” Katerina asked, sounding mildly annoyed.

“Visiting friends. What difference does it make?” The tone of the voice Ian felt resonate within his host body, her partner’s voice, showed he was unconcerned.

“More likely, visiting a friend,” she said.

Now Ian understood the environment and was having a hard time imagining the purpose of this visit. It took too much effort to make a journey just to watch this annoying alternate life where Katerina and her partner so thoroughly disregard each other.

They have no idea who they are or what we all share, Ian thought to himself.

The words between the couple made it obvious the husband was having an affair. His responses sometimes implied that they were both frequently unfaithful. With that kind of wounding behavior, Ian expected some strong emotion to be flowing with their words. Ian, though not his host, seemed to be the only one in the room feeling any such passion about what was happening to their relationship. Katerina and her mate stepped through the conversation with a choreographed precision, without any real emotional effect.

What the hell are you people doing? Ian thought. He felt no lack of excitement: he could assure them that the field of play was not completely without passion on this day.

Strike. Parry. Step and speak again. This “argument for display” that they were carrying on was unnatural to Ian. They must have been practicing that pattern for years in order to achieve such threatening accuracy without actually imposing any evident damage on each other. As their dance flowed, Ian was being drawn in ever deeper. Unable to resist, he responded, though silently, to the pernicious nature of their actions.

Then suddenly the couple appeared to throw in a new step. The cadence of their argument staggered at just that moment, and the man took the lead, seemingly out of sequence. Ian had to wonder if the performance was going as expected, because even his host seemed surprised by what he did next. Some evidence of true feeling started to filter into his voice. Ian had a strong sense that this direction was something neither of the couple expected.

“You’re being ridiculous,” he said as he—or he and Ian—stood completely immobile for just a moment, seeming not quite sure what to do for the first time. Then Katerina’s partner walked toward the door, as if to leave the room.

She followed closely behind him, “Don’t you walk away from me!” Her voice was full of an emotion that was more appropriate to the words she spoke. “I may be a fool for staying here, but I am not stupid. What do you think you are doing?”

Her partner turned and stared at Katerina, but did not say anything at all. She may have known what he was doing, but he did not seem to.

There Ian was, gambling with his health and risking his spiritual well-being for any possible hope of interaction with the woman with whom he shared a multitude of lives. What he was seeing instead was a time where Katerina and he—assuming that his host was some version of himself—had utter disrespect for the relationship they were then sharing.

What was the purpose of that particular visit? Ian knew there are always two sides to a coin. Undoubtedly, Katerina and he shared many happy lives and some Ian would rather not know about. But he did not enjoy paying the price required for an experience such as this.

Ian speculated that the couple had never dealt with the real issues that were causing their callousness toward each other. It was not each other they were dissatisfied with, but themselves.

“If you want to leave me,” Katerina continued, “have the courage to tell me so, but do not treat me with disrespect.” There was no question she was feeling truly angry now. She was crying.

After a little more delay, her partner snapped back. “Yes! It’s over. It was always a miserable mistake. We never had anything. I don’t know why we ever got together!”

No! I hate this reality! Ian screamed inside his own head.

Then Ian found himself back on his couch. In his own world, his heart was as broken as had been the heart of Katerina when he’d left their most recent parallel life. He did not want to accept that there would be unhappy lives, even if they were part of his great bond with Katerina. It seemed that they simultaneously lived in many alternate lives, and he could not control which Katerina he would visit at any given time. If what he experienced in this last visit was going to dominate the visits to come, Ian did not know if he could continue.

The next few visits Ian had with Katerina were not any more satisfying, nor did he ever visit the same place twice. He continued to be little more than a spectator, pulled along for some unknown reason. If he’d had any sort of control on over his destinations, he would have chosen to return to visiting the Katerina of the tea visits. He would have loved to meet her in that French country house again.

The new experiences were not completely without interest for him, however. He came to know many manifestations of his dearest Katerina, and he was blessed with the knowledge of many of their parallel lives.

At first, Ian tried to meet with Katerina every evening after work. But after a time, he began instinctively to accept a limit to the frequency of the visits. He allowed himself a period of recuperation after each visit. In due time, he would be moved to sit for meditation again.

Ian decided that the purpose of the recent visits was only to expand his definition of his relationship with the woman he first visited. The most frustrating parts of the experiences were his lack of control during a journey, and his inability to return to a particular manifestation of their lives together.

During a given visit, even if Ian was certain that his point of view was through his eyes in a parallel life, his consciousness from his primary reality could do nothing but follow along. He wanted to communicate with the Katerina of the other lives, and with the manifestation of himself as her partner in those places. What a benefit it could have been to us all, he thought. The couples he visited stumbled about, sometimes not fully appreciating each other, never understanding the scope of their relationship as Ian understood it.

Every so often, Ian called Liz and reported to her—and through her, to Djalma—what was going on with the journeys, assuring her that all was fine. Djalma would periodically ask Liz to remind Ian that he might not be able to continue the trips forever. Ian had no doubt Djalma was correct. Transitions between his normal consciousness and his destinations were getting more complicated, a little tricky at times. Now and again, Ian was aware of being in a place that was merely a void, neither in his original world nor in one of the alternate realities to which he visited.

Liz frequently invited Ian to come and stay for the weekend, but he made excuses why he could not visit the mountains during that time. He could definitely feel the growing weakness within himself as he continued the visits. Ian knew that if Liz and Djalma laid an eye on him, they would be worried about what he was doing to himself.

More than likely, Ian thought, Djalma already knows, even without seeing me face to face. Djalma had merely acquiesced to Ian’s choice.

After a few more visits, still never returning to the same place twice, Ian had a visit in which he started to experience what he believed were the emotions of his parallel selves, during the visit. Up until that time, Ian had felt only his own responses to what he saw and heard. This new aspect of the experience was a little complicated, but it helped him come to some understanding of why Katerina and her partner made such foolish choices and failed to understand how precious their times together were. Gifted with his recently acquired perspective, Ian had the larger comprehension of the great web of his and Katerina’s many lives together. At the same time, the emotions of his host in the visited reality seemed to dominate Ian’s feelings during the visit—making it hard for him not to get lost in the same pettiness that hindered his host’s understanding.

The same thing happened several more times. And then it evolved into something more: Ian started to share the physical experiences of Katerina’s partner within the host environment. He would have liked to put an end to this added involvement. Once the bodily connection developed, he was subject to any physical ailments his parallel self was experiencing in the visited world. Further, after returning to his primary reality from such a journey, it would take Ian anywhere from hours to weeks to separate his actual, physical self from the parallel self’s sensations. This, along with Ian’s increasing weakness in his primary body, forced him to spend longer periods of recovery between visits.

Once, a host in the visited reality was sick with a fever. Ian’s body exhibited that fever after he returned home. Three days afterward, Ian still had the fever and was almost delusional from high temperature. In desperation, he went to the doctor. She ran test after test but found no organic cause for his symptoms. Ian had hoped she could give him something to combat the discomfort, since he had the symptoms.

Just as no tests explained the fever, nothing was effective against it. Luckily, the fever broke as mysteriously—to the doctor—as it had developed. Ian could only hope that his host had become well in the recently visited parallel life, since Ian knew there was no chance he would be able to return to that particular life and check on his parallel self.

One other possibility that dawned on Ian was his symptoms had subsided because his parallel self had died from the fever. The union Ian had experienced with his host only a short time before caused Ian a unique sense of remorse over that idea. Even more unsettling was the implication that the experiences of Ian’s parallel selves could have a direct consequence on his physical body in this world. What would happen if he landed in a reality in which that self was dying? What if the parallel self died while Ian was still in the host world, bonded to that consciousness?

Through all the changes in the visits, Ian hadn’t been able to forget the visit when Katerina and his parallel self were ending their relationship. It seemed like somehow they were comfortable with a well-traveled, though unhappy pattern. Then Ian began to wonder if the influence of the parallel lives went only one way. Might he have disturbed the emotional balance of that couple’s life together? Were they truly surprised when the repetitious path of their quarrel took a new turn that day? What had he done? Ian knew any impact he’d had on them would influence his life here in this world as well, even if the impact was immediately unrecognizable.

No matter the threat to himself, Ian knew he would not be able to stop going into the parallel lives. His life had been redefined: it was something more than he had ever imagined before the visits began. But, Ian didn’t know exactly what his life was now. The idea that he had been directly affecting the visited lives, without realizing just how or to what extent, was disturbing to him. His “visiting” was sometimes more frustrating than it seemed worth. But as little sense as it made occasionally, he was still certain there was a purpose to it and a need for him to continue on.

copyright 2006 CG Walters

Continued next week, Dangerous Choice

Thank you for your continued support.

Blessings all,

CG

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C.G. Walters primarily writes fiction that focuses on the multidimensionality of our loves  and our lives. Autographed/signed copies of his current novel, Sacred Vow, are available from the author– or purchase from Amazon as  ebook , paperback, or Kindle version

Receive new editions of Into the Mist through a reader  http://feeds.feedburner.com/IntoTheMist

Please join me as a friend at any of my other favorite hangouts: Facebook, Gaia, Myspace, StumbleUpon, Friendfeed, Twitter, Plurk, or Digg

Serialization of Sacred Vow: Birthday

photo by brian.glanz

C.G. Walters has written an excellent occult novel about one of the most haunting themes in human experience – the search for one’s ‘twin spirit’ or twin soul.  Sacred Vow kept me up half the night reading it.  I simply couldn’t put it down!  Throughout the book while reading the author’s description of the quantum universe, I had the feeling of ‘This is the way things really are!’ --Peter Calhoun: Author of Soul on Fire

Installment 18 of 22 Sacred Vow of the serialization of (Dragon’s Beard Publishing, ISBN: 978-0-9774271-4-7, paperback, Fiction: Visionary/Metaphysical).

Birthday

After finding the paper on which he had written the Sacred Vow shared between Katerina and himself, Ian was enraptured for the rest of the week. Later in the week, Liz called, asking him to come to a party for Djalma’s twenty-seventh birthday. Ian was honored by the invitation and quite interested in meeting some of Djalma’s other friends. Liz was a normal enough sort of person, but Ian was certain that friends from Djalma’s inner circle would prove to be some entertainingly unusual characters.

When Ian arrived a bit early for the party that weekend, Liz’s car was the only one in the drive. Perhaps the rest of Djalma’s friends all live in the woods nearby, Ian speculated.

Liz was opening the door as Ian reached it.

“It’s so good to see you again, Liz.” He handed her a vase of bright purple Japanese lilies. “These are for you.”

“Thank you, sweetie. Come in.” She kissed his cheek as they embraced. “Let me take your jacket.”

Ian followed as she headed for the dining room. “I hope my being early isn’t inconvenient for you. Is there anything I can do to help you get ready for the party?”

“No inconvenience, and I’m all prepared for our gathering. Djalma is here.”

As they stepped through the dining room door, Djalma rose from his seat at the table. Ian’s two friends had already been having tea. The table was dressed beautifully, in just Liz’s style, with a number of tea snacks, though Ian thought the amount of food was rather modest for a party.

“Happy birthday, Djalma.” Ian stepped forward and offered his hand.

“Thank you, Ian. It’s good to see you again. I hope you had a good trip.”

Ian hadn’t fully realized it before, but Djalma had very kind eyes, the eyes of a wise, old man, clear and bright but gentle, and with an undeniable expression of loving concern. Concentrating on those eyes, Ian didn’t notice at first that Djalma was not releasing his hand.

“It was a good drive,” Ian said. The next thing he said came without thought. As Ian stood looking into Djalma’s eyes, he said, “And it’s very good to see you again.”

Djalma smiled and let go of Ian’s hand.

Ian stepped back and began to scan the room. There was only one more teacup on the table, so it appeared this would be a small party. Djalma’s other interesting friends would remain a mystery to Ian.

Ian gave Liz a questioning look. He suspected now that the invitation was to provide Liz and Djalma a chance to check up on him since the use of the token.

“It’s an intimate party, honey.” She smiled shyly. “You know there aren’t a lot of people who live around here during the off-season.”

Ian just nodded his head. “Yes, I know.”

Turning to Djalma, Ian handed him the present that he’d brought. “Well, I’m sorry. It looks like you won’t be getting many gifts.” Then he hesitated. “This is your birthday, isn’t it?” he said.

Djalma grinned and nodded. So Ian handed him a package.

Liz resumed her role as hostess. “Now you just sit over here. We’ve been having some Oolong tea.” She put her hand on Ian’s shoulder and directed him to the seat in front of the remaining teacup. “Is that good for you? Or would you like some green, black, or rooibos tea? Or perhaps something altogether different to drink?”

“Oolong will be wonderful, Liz.”

They took their seats, and Liz poured a cup of the tea. The hot, earthy smell of the steam rising from the cup relaxed him.

“Open your present, Djalma,” Liz said, as she passed Ian a tray or two of snacks for his choices.

The gift was a good paring knife to replace the warn knife that Ian had seen Djalma use in the cabin. The handle of the one he had was about to fall off and only a sliver of a blade remained.

“Not to deprive you of an old friend,” Ian said. “But you’ll have a replacement whenever you decide your current knife is due for retirement.”

Liz had a good laugh when she saw the contents of the box. She must have seen Djalma whittling at his herbs at some time.

Djalma laughed along with Liz, but his face was red. “Or,” he said, “one for someone else to use in helping me prepare the herbs while we talk.”

Ian felt lucky to share company with two such remarkable people. He sat back in the chair, sipped his tea and laughed with them. They had a party of three. Like little children, they laughed and joked, ate Liz’s treats, and gaily passed away several hours in good company.

They talked about what they had each been doing, books they had been reading, music they had been listening to lately. Ian had many good friends with whom he enjoyed sharing and laughing, but Liz and Djalma knew about a part of his life that he had not shared or felt he could share with anyone else. For that reason, even though these were not his oldest friends, they felt like his dearest.

The subject of Ian’s travels did not come up until Liz suddenly asked, “Have you seen Katerina lately?”

Ian looked at Djalma, who did not appear surprised. Liz and Djalma often seemed deeply in tune with each other.

Ian looked back at Liz, “Yes, I saw her again last weekend.”

Ian stepped into his sharing of the latest journey slowly. But soon the three were talking about Katerina and his visits with her as if she were a mutual friend in their physical world.

Djalma and Liz paid rapt attention to the story Ian told them of the Sacred Vow. He asked their opinions about what it all meant, but they offered few responses.

“It sounds as if you two have a very old connection,” Liz said, and Djalma agreed.

As Ian reached the end of his story, he knew it was getting late and he had to leave for home.

“Is anyone interested in a real meal?” Liz said.

“Not me, Liz. I have to start back. Tomorrow is Monday,” Ian said.

“You could take a vacation day. I have plenty of rooms, sweetie—all made up for company.”

“I wish I could, Liz. This has been wonderful.” Ian looked over at Djalma, meaning to include him as well. Djalma gave him a very focused look of seriousness, which Ian had hoped not to see this day. He knew Djalma now wanted to comment about Ian’s relationship as the paranormal thing that it was.

Ian decided to take the lead. “What is it, Djalma?”

“If you don’t mind, Ian, I need to ask: Do you feel any different than you did the last time I saw you?”

The question was easy to evade. “Well, yes. The last time I was here, I was still involved in the dark journeys. I feel better since they have ended. Remember how hard they were on my health?”

“My mistake,” Djalma said. Then after a pause, he went on. “Accounting for the recovery from the dark experiences, do you recognize any impact on yourself after these new visits?”

“After seeing Katerina this last time, I feel great. I’m telling you the truth.”

With each exchange, Djalma’s eyes became more focused, more serious. “Yes, you may feel great in your body. But what I mean is, when you’re in that relaxed place, just after the meditation ends, have you noticed even the slightest feeling of weakness or evanescence?”

“I’ve only had the meditative transfer experience twice.” Ian looked at Liz, hoping she’d interrupt. She did not. She had the same concerned look Djalma had.

“Everything is fine, Liz,” Ian said to her. He looked back at Djalma and addressed the heart of his concern, “Just what are you troubled about?”

“Though your health has improved, your energetic signature has much weakened since the last time I saw you,” he said.

Ian reacted with a defensive remark aimed at Liz. She’d been the one who had set up this meeting for a reality check that he did not want and could not now escape. “Do you think so, too?”

He immediately repented this childish response. “I am sorry, Liz,” he said.

She smiled sadly and empathetically. “You can trust Djalma,” she said.

Ian reached out to squeeze Liz’s hand and looked back to Djalma. Like it or not, Ian knew that he’d better consider what Djalma was worried about. “Tell me what you’re seeing, my friend.”

“It’s not visibly affecting your health yet,” Djalma said, “but I think it will, if the pattern continues. The materialization into other realities seems to take energy from you here. Perhaps this is because we don’t know how to guard against or restore the energy displaced in the process . . . What concerns me most is that I know of no one who can even speculate on what impact such visits would have on body or spirit, or the precautions that should be considered.”

Ian cut in. “Djalma, if there has been any negative impact, why doesn’t it impair my ability to visit Katerina? I don’t even need to use the teapot anymore.”

“I find that absolutely incredible. I wish you could tell me how you do it. Apparently, you are now able to adjust your personal resonance to create this portal, which used to take a whole roomful of energetic signatures to achieve. I’m speculating that when the collective signature of the study failed your purpose, your subconscious automatically simulated what it remembered about the experience, allowing you to continue to achieve the transfer during meditation.

“What’s most remarkable to me is that, so far as I understand it, with every reality shift, your signature should be greatly changed, requiring your subconscious to recalculate the proper resonance to achieve the desired end for each additional attempt. I hope you’ll someday be able to teach me how you do that.”

“I’ll be glad to,” Ian responded, “as soon as I have some idea of what I’m doing! Do you have any suggestions on how to overcome the displacement of energy?”

“I wish I did, Ian. As I said before, you’re doing something outside my scope of understanding. The only thing I know that would help is to stop materializing in her reality—”

Ian looked sharply across the table, and Djalma continued, “—which I’m sure you’re not going to consider. I can’t honestly say I would do so if I was in your position.”

Ian smiled, glad for the understanding.

“I can only imagine the connection with Katerina that you’re feeling inside,” Djalma went on. “It doesn’t surprise me that such an experience would lead you to risk your health and the stability of your mind. If I may, I’d like to offer a few things you might wish to consider further.”

“Anything that you think will help.”

“You’re not making these trips by your own spirit’s efforts alone,” Djalma began. “I am as convinced as you are about the connection you and Katerina have. This being so, if you continue to go down a path that eventually causes you harm, you certainly risk harming your link to Katerina and possibly also Katerina herself.

“It’s not only this one manifestation of Katerina with which you share the connection. Remember, you have now had a visit that seems to be the two of you as a couple simultaneously occurring in another reality. There could be many, many more expressions of your bond out there. Before I met you, I would have said that what you are doing is no more than a theoretical possibility. After seeing what you experience, my concern is that we cannot tell what impact this journeying might have on other lives, not only you and Katerina. Through the interconnected ties that bind us all, if you recklessly bring yourself to harm, who knows how many others of us may feel the effects?”

Ian sank back into his chair to consider the options. “You know that I cannot stop visiting her, Djalma. What other choices do I have?”

Liz had come around behind Ian’s chair and laid her hands on his shoulders. Feeling her supportive touch, he took a deep breath.

Djalma continued, “I can only suggest you don’t try to rush the period of recovery between each trip. You will definitely need to do some healing, and although your recuperative talent seems exceptional at this time, you must give yourself the full measure of rest that you might need.

“Your spirit may need considerable time for recalibrating the necessary energetic emanation after each journey. Should you force the next transfer before that calibration is ready or your energy is properly restored, you could end up lost somewhere in the transition. We would not be able to help you from this side and Katerina might not be able to find you.”

Ian silently considered the implications of Djalma’s words. From the look in his eyes, Ian could tell what he was about to impart next was very important.

“Now, this is purely intuition on my part. I have no other justification, but please remember it. If you run into any trouble, hold onto that piece of paper with the vow you expressed in the writing, which you and Katerina both possess. That could be most important.”

Djalma got up from his chair and gave Ian a big smile. “Just like any friend about to make a journey,” he said, “we wish you a safe trip and send you off with our support and love.”

They said their good-byes, exchanged hugs, and Ian started back home. As dominant as his experiences with Katerina were in his consciousness those days, on this long trip home, all Ian could think about was how fortunate he was to have two such dear friends in his life.

Continued next week, Eyes of Another

copyright 2006 CG Walters

For those who cannot wait to read Sacred Vow over installments, I have a gift for you–the first 15 chapters online to be read at your leisure!

This link

http://authonomy.com/ViewBook.aspx?bookid=1557 is a listing the 1st 15 chapters on HarperCollins.London.

If you enjoy what you read, I’d ask a favor in return; help me pursue a foreign rights publishing contract for Sacred Vow.

Please register on the site (create a profile on http://www.authonomy.com/ ), and search for Sacred Vow. Once you have the page up with the Sacred Vow book cover, notice that to the right of the page there is a column with several options, one of which is “Back this book“, please click that –this adds Sacred Vow to your bookshelf, used to determine which books the editors will consider.—This is not a purchase. Authonomy is strictly a mechanism for selecting books for publishing within HarperCollins.

Please check your profile page afterwards, ensuring that the Sacred Vow cover shows in your Bookshelf.

If you have time, make a comment on Sacred Vow by going to this page
http://www.authonomy.com/ViewBook.aspx?bookid=1557
the comment box is below the book description. I would love your input. Fiction is a collective creation between reader and writer.

Thank you for your continued support.

Blessings, dear ones,

CG

CG Walters primarily writes fiction that focuses on the multidimensionality of our loves  and our lives.

Autographed/signed copies of his current novel, Sacred Vow, are available from the author– or purchase from Amazon as  ebook , paperback, or Kindle version

Receive new editions of Into the Mist through a reader  http://feeds.feedburner.com/IntoTheMist

Please join me as a friend at any of my other favorite hangouts: Facebook, Gaia, Myspace, StumbleUpon, Friendfeed, Twitter, Plurk, or Digg

Serialization of Sacred Vow: The Sacred Vow

photo by h.koppdelaney

This is the kind of book that you will want to read and reread as it takes you on a very mysterious voyage into the invisible, into the world of the soul. This theme will never leave you… I recommend that you meditate after reading this book. I think this way, you will retain more of the book’s message that you can bring back to your own consciousness use as a tool to achieve your own goals. The resources in this book are impossible to describe in a simple review like this. Just open up and be receptive, and you will receive a wonderful gift from this author. –Marie-Claire Wilson, for Oracle 20-20

Installment 17 of 22 Sacred Vow (Dragon’s Beard Publishing, ISBN: 978-0-9774271-4-7, paperback, Fiction: Visionary/Metaphysical).

Sacred Vow

Soon after his call with Djalma, Ian achieved his passionately sought goal of meeting Katerina many more times, but he could not have imagined what the feat would demand of him in return. Ian knew that in pursuing love, one never intentionally asks to be made defenseless, gullible, and imprudent, but many a love, as well as countless other great treasures, would not have come to pass without first coming to possess some degree of those more dubious gifts.

For some people, but not for him, it might have been debatable whether Ian’s next visit was a gift of benevolence to lure him onward or a cruelty. For him it was, unquestionably, kindness.

All that was necessary was for Ian to cease to pursue the next visit so fervently, and to rest comfortably with the confidence that he was connected with Katerina. After a month of ignoring numerous invitations, Katerina visited Ian during his meditation one evening. Perhaps it was coincidence—or had it become necessity?—but the teapot was not is the study this second time as well.

As had become his habit while meditating, Ian sat cross-legged on his woolen couch. Sitting there, Ian began to perceive the Katerina of his original tea visions, the very same woman in appearance and manner. She sat, with her back to Ian, on a tall stool at a fine old-time writing desk of a dark wood. She was reading an ornate, thick, old book with a leather cover. Contentment spread through Ian, along with caution. He was afraid to breathe; afraid he might disturb the connection.

His view of the scene started to arc to the right, moving nearer to Katerina. At first, Ian was alarmed, as he had not willed this movement or even desired it. By then he was used to being out of control of his location in her environment. Today, Ian could determine that his view was not through the eyes of another person in the room with Katerina.

He expected Katerina to become aware of his presence. She always had been when he had visited in her home before.

This was indeed the very Katerina with whom he had become so familiar during the tea visits, unless his memory was playing another cruel trick. And, this was the room in her home that he had visited many times. Just as Ian remembered, her desk was in front of the window to the right of the exterior door. On either side of the desk were bookcases. He had watched her laugh, read, and write here many times before.

Katerina slid to the back edge of her stool, looked upward, and was silent for a time, perhaps in some prayer or meditation of her own. Ian felt close enough to lay a hand on her shoulder. With all the power of focus he possessed, he tried to reach forward and touch her shoulder. No hand obeyed. No touch occurred. Clearly, Ian had no body for this visit to her home.

Lost in the midst of this frustrating perception, Ian heard Katerina speak. After a moment of pleasant surprise, he noticed that her voice had a sad tone.

“Are you listening to me? Can you hear me, dear one?” she said.

“Yes!” he said. But his response made no sound. Katerina evidently did not hear him either. She did not reply.

Was that truly Katerina’s voice? he wondered. Her sadness troubled him. Though he had not been able to hear what she said during his previous visits into this life, Ian had never observed anything before to indicate that she was leading less than the most fulfilled of lives. His belief that she was happy had made the separation between their existences acceptable, at least until he could find a way to be with her. The melancholy rhythm of her words caused him sorrow.

After a moment of silence, she lowered her attention to the tome on her desk. “Where have you gone to, my friend?” she asked in that same sorrowful voice.

“I am here, Katerina,” Ian replied.

Katerina continued to talk to herself as she flipped slowly through the pages of the book. She appeared to be searching for something in particular.

Ian was looking over her shoulder. The pages of her book had detailed scrollwork painted around the edges. The paper was thick enough to be vellum. The book seemed handmade. The text was not written in English, and the formatting of the lines in most places implied that it was more like poetry than prose. Most pages had a variety of images in the text area, more like hand-drawn or painted artwork than printed pictures.

This particular book was not something that he remembered from any previous visit to her house, but it was not unlike other books Ian had seen Katerina use, or that were spread about her home. Based on what he had seen before, this could be a rare collection of ancient volumes of poetry. Or it could be something more along the lines of the esoteric writings, with which she was also so familiar. There were many such tomes on the shelves on either side of her desk and spread about the house, extraordinary in their appearance and their content.

In his previous visits, Katerina had impressed Ian as being both an artist and a mystic. He did not need to see her work with such manuscripts to come to this conclusion. The way she responded to children, flowers, or any other living things provided evidence enough for this speculation. She always exhibited the wonder of a child, the wisdom of an ancient, and a unity with nature rarely embodied by any member of humanity.

This day, Katerina periodically stopped to consider a particular page and traced her finger over a design or picture. Sometimes she sang lowly, barely loud enough for him to hear. One song reminded him of a children’s lullaby. Another was more of a hypnotic chant.

After the chant, she quickly flipped through several pages, as if remembering something, or returning momentarily to a section she had already viewed.

“What are you looking for?” Ian asked, needing to speak though he knew his effort would be silent.

“I am looking for you, dear one,” she said precisely at the right moment. “Are you looking for me?”

Ian was shaken.

He hoped Katerina would turn to look at him. Had she finally realized that he was there?

Without turning, she spoke again, “When will you return to me?”

“Oh, Katerina,” he responded, “I have returned. Why can’t I make myself known to you?”

She flipped through a few more pages, silent now.

“Look at me, Katerina,” he said. “Please turn around and see me!”

Abruptly, she stopped turning pages. It gave Ian hope. But she did not turn around.

She read aloud from the page she had found. At first her words seemed to be in a language unknown to him, but she spoke too softly for Ian to be certain. At a later point in the verse, Katerina suddenly began to speak clearly, and in English.

Twice known.
Eternal waters of unlimited life.
Three times shown,
Mysterious ways of freeform flight.
I have seen,
Been forgotten, but revived.
I have died,
But never been denied.
Somewhere near,
The immortal dance begins.
Swirling sphere,
From which all life extends.

Was this a favorite poem of hers? Ian wondered. Or was she reciting a potent spell for some specific purpose?

Sitting back in her stool, Katerina closed the book with a heavy thump. “I do not believe you have chosen to forget about us and our commitment to one another,” she said.

“Don’t believe it, Katerina! I haven’t forgotten!” he promised.

Katerina pushed her stool back from the desk. She rose, walked away from him and disappeared into another room. Ian stared at a piece of paper now lying on top of the book she had been reading from. The script was beautiful. He was certain it was Katerina’s own handwriting.

The paper was well worn—obviously a favorite keepsake. If for no other reason than its value to Katerina, Ian wanted to be familiar with this verse. There was only a single paragraph. Unlike the book, the words on the page were in English. Ian started to recognize them as something he was already acquainted with.

Katerina returned and stood between his vantage point and the desk. She had brought a candle and lit it, releasing a fragrance of an exotic smelling spice that Ian did not recognize.

With her back to him, she pushed the stool under the desk and stood with her hands on its back for a moment. Then she dropped her attention to the paper that he had been trying to read.

“Why are those words familiar, Katerina?” he said. “What is it?”

That piece of paper had to be significant, and Ian was certain he was familiar with those words—but, he could not remember how or why. He felt a rising sense of urgency, a need to know that verse. He wondered why—was it because he would soon be leaving there or that he might need the verse for some future purpose? He felt completely helpless. His view of the page was blocked now, and in this reality he had possessed no ability to direct his point of view…

Katerina turned as if to look straight into Ian’s face. She took a couple of slow steps toward him. They stood nose to nose; a couple of inches separated them. He could feel her breath and smell the mingled aroma of her old books and the candle that was burning.

Could she tell that he was there?

If so, Katerina gave no indication. She stood entranced, with a faraway look on her face. Ian wanted to believe that she could at least imagine his presence. If she was unaware of him, he had no idea what she was doing.

Ian wanted to keep taking in the whole sight of her, but his attention was drawn into Katerina’s bright, intense eyes. Time after time, he felt overcome as if he were falling into her eyes. Surprisingly, he felt inclined to resist the experience. He instinctively knew the visit was about to end. How he wanted to continue to remain with her, to be this close to her!

Her soft lips slowly formed a first, intentionally precise word. And then she spoke: “I offer this Sacred Vow to you alone. If ever you are in need, expect me to reach beyond possibility and take your hand. As you feel the warmth of our bond, know that you will never be forgotten, never be alone, and never be without this one enduring love.”

Katerina was reciting the verse from the paper on top of her book. Ian struggled to justify the deep familiarity he had with those words

After drawing a long, slow breath, Katerina began the same rhythmic recital again. As she did so, he was again drawn into her eyes. This time he let himself go. He could feel some part of himself blending into a single existence with her. Physically he was becoming part of her. When the verse was complete, he settled again into his sense of separateness.

A third time Katerina began to recite the same words. This time Ian gladly let go of any perception apart from hers. And this time, losing himself resulted in losing her as well.

As serene as his transition into Katerina’s parallel world had been, Ian came back into his awareness of his world with a charge. His heart was racing the moment he became conscious. He forced himself from the couch so quickly that he tripped over his feet and almost fell over on his face. He knew now why that verse was familiar!

There was a chance that the same Sacred Vow was in his house, somewhere. He had written it down after a stirring dream he had had some time ago. And he was going to move every item in his possession, one by one, until he found that scrap of paper—if he had not thrown it away.

Ian had a bad habit of disregarding musings and inspirations that he scribbled down as time passed. This particular bit of writing had sparked such uncomfortable emotion within him that he had almost destroyed it immediately. In fact, he remembered that the only reason he had not done so was he couldn’t believe a few words from a dream could force such an uncontrolled emotional response within him.

Now he knew why he had reacted so strongly to the passage. Ian resolved to find it.

It proved unbelievable how much a single person could store into every hidden space of an entire house. This became especially evident to Ian when he decided to inventory everything he owned. Half of what he sifted through over the next two days had certainly long lost its value or purpose in his life.

The task he was performing was almost a perfect situation for a thorough spring cleaning. Or, it would have been, if not for the fact that Ian was completely intimidated by the idea that he might accidentally overlook and discard just the item he was searching for. He unearthed everything, examined each thing, and put it right back in its original place—just in case he didn’t find what he was looking for and had to do it all again.

It was a good thing no one happened to come by the house during that little obsession. Ian was sure they would have had him carted away. He rarely moved away from his place of excavation, except very briefly to attend to life’s necessities. Several times he woke after having fallen asleep right in the middle of his work.

Ian was beginning to worry about what would happen if he didn’t find the paper. Months later Liz or Djalma might come looking for him and discover that he had expired during his fixated searching; unsatisfied but unwilling or unable to give up.

Eventually, Ian was successful. The crumpled bit of paper was one of several unrelated scraps in a box of old pictures. Ian had not imagined the impact holding that paper in his hand would have on him. Here, finally, was a concrete link between his reality and Katerina’s.

He was almost giddy in his exultation. He felt like a foolish child in his needing something tangible to reassure him of his connection with Katerina. But he didn’t care. Holding onto that bit of paper, he leaned back against a stack of boxes in the attic, too tired to move. Letting his guard down, he went peacefully to sleep.

Continued next week, Birthday

For those who cannot wait to read Sacred Vow over installments, I have a gift for you–the first 15 chapters online to be read at your leisure!

This link http://authonomy.com/ViewBook.aspx?bookid=1557 is a listing the 1st 15 chapters on HarperCollins.London.

If you enjoy what you read, I’d ask a favor in return; help me pursue a foreign rights publishing contract for Sacred Vow.

Please register on the site (create a profile on http://www.authonomy.com/ ), and search for Sacred Vow. Once you have the page up with the Sacred Vow book cover, notice that to the right of the page there is a column with several options, one of which is “Back this book“, please click that –this adds Sacred Vow to your bookshelf, used to determine which books the editors will consider.—This is not a purchase. Authonomy is strictly a mechanism for selecting books for publishing within HarperCollins.

Please check your profile page afterwards, ensuring that the Sacred Vow cover shows in your Bookshelf.

If you have time, make a comment on Sacred Vow by going to this page
http://www.authonomy.com/ViewBook.aspx?bookid=1557
the comment box is below the book description. I would love your input. Fiction is a collective creation between reader and writer.

Thank you for your continued support.

Blessings all,

CG

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C.G. Walters primarily writes fiction that focuses on the multidimensionality of our loves  and our lives.

Autographed/signed copies of his current novel, Sacred Vow, are available from the author– or purchase from Amazon as  ebook , paperback, or Kindle version

Receive new editions of Into the Mist through a reader  http://feeds.feedburner.com/IntoTheMist

Please join me as a friend at any of my other favorite hangouts: Facebook, Gaia, Myspace, StumbleUpon, Friendfeed, Twitter, Plurk, or Digg

One Who Knows

photo by h.koppdelaney

Sacred Vow is an interesting book of fiction about Ian, a well-read man in his early 50s who lives in New England. Divorced, he works in an office looking forward to his nightly cup of tea when he gets home. One particular evening, while relaxing in his study, he slips into a parallel universe where he meets a woman with whom he feels a strong connection. After this excursion into alternate time, Ian returns to his study and is perplexed and intrigued. He decides to attempt to recreate the experience. He returns to see the woman whom he eventually calls Katerina. The story proceeds as a mystery following the soul connection between Ian and Katerina. Ian is a likable man who truly loves and respects women. The story is well written and enticing as the facets of their connections unfold. I would definitely suggest adding this book to your fiction collection! –Susan LosCalzo, for New Age Retailer

Installment 16 of 22 Sacred  Vow (Dragon’s Beard Publishing, ISBN: 978-0-9774271-4-7, paperback, Fiction: Visionary/Metaphysical).

One Who Knows

When he got back from work the next day, Ian was still charged from the  previous night’s experience, even though he had lost several hours of sleep to  it. Without brewing tea, he tried sitting in another meditation, hoping for an  additional visitation. He tried sitting in the study with the teapot, but with  no tea. Then he tried sitting without the teapot in the study. Unfortunately,  Ian was too energized to relax. Nothing happened.

Even knowing that it would further delay his getting any much-needed sleep, Ian  brewed a pot of tea and had a cup. He wanted to see Katerina right away. If a  few seconds with her, here in his study, were all he could have, Ian would be  glad for it.

What he really hoped for was to visit the Katerina of his tea visions. Since he  was able to hear Katerina in this other life perhaps that was an indication that  he would now be able to hear the Katerina he had been visiting for months, if he  could only get back there. Ian longed to share with her what he had discovered.

From the moment he had initially seen her, walking through the forest path in  their very first visit, Ian had been left with the unsettling conviction that  she and he shared more than just the ongoing exchanges that he was experiencing.  He had not been able, however, to find any rational justification for such  strong feelings. But after the vivid memories of the night before, Ian felt he  had seen pictures of a life that Katerina and he had lived together, or were  living together now, in some parallel existence.

With the night before, he had experienced some additional portion of their story  together. He had known her voice, her laugh, and her direct interaction with him  in that life. And he wondered how this previously unrealized parallel life had  subconsciously affected his experiences in his primary world.

Ian drank the tea, but he was disappointed. After taking his time enjoying two  more cups, he was even more awake and yet had no additional experience of  Katerina. Lingering in his recliner, he did not immediately notice when he  started to go through the memories of the evening before. Soon Ian questioned  why he was determined to have a new visit, since he was so blessed with a rich  memory that he could relive with such vivid detail and sensations. His  recollections of that experience were unlike any memories he had ever known  before. They were just as authentic as the original experience.

After a while, Ian got out a notebook and began writing down every detail he  could recall. The location of that new visualization was definitely not the  world of his consciousness, or in his time. He wanted to firm up all the details  in his mind. Perhaps he could find some answers to his recent experiences within  the memories of those few days. He wanted to be able to share what he had  experienced with his Katerina.

Again, he was late getting to sleep.

For the next several evenings, no visit occurred. Though short on sleep, Ian  continued to feel fully energized and happy. Night after night, until he had  gone carefully through the entire experience of that simultaneous life with  Katerina, he recalled an unbelievable amount of detail from that single visit.  He concluded that something had changed. He was no longer merely visiting  another reality, but actually living a portion of a parallel life. This had  obviously resulted in a change in him, right down to his definition of self.  Then it hit him.

“A change in me?”

From what Djalma told him, Ian realized that such a change could alter the  vibrational rate at which he resonated, change the signature of the study! He  had been so busy recounting his extended visitation with Katerina that he had  not worried himself about whether there was any significance in her recent  absence. Ian tried to reassure himself by recalling that in the early days she  had been gone for extended absences and there had been no reason for concern.  Maybe sleep deprivation had caught up with him, but he felt overwhelmed by  apprehension.

His first instinct was to immediately call Djalma and beg for help. But Ian felt  guilty for departing their meeting so hastily and not keeping Djalma informed.  Besides, Ian couldn’t just call him. He would have to call Liz and ask her to  hike up to Djalma’s forest home. Although she tramped through the woods quite  regularly, Ian was not willing to ask her to do so at his request.

The next thing Ian knew, he was drowsily responding to the alarm clock. He’d  finally slept, but apparently not for very long. He woke, exhausted.

Later that day at work, Ian’s anxiety about losing contact with Katerina  overcame his reservations. He made the call to Liz. It was comforting just to  talk with her for a while. He asked her to ask Djalma to call him collect any  evening, whenever she next saw him. She agreed not to go looking for Djalma, but  would wait until he came for one of his frequent visits to her B&B.

Djalma called that night. Ian hoped the prompt response was due merely to his  good fortune, not to any extraordinary efforts on Liz’s part.

“I’m surprised to hear from you again so soon,” Djalma said with a pointed but  friendly irony.

Ian apologized and groveled appropriately. “Oh, I know, Djalma. I’ve been  meaning to call. The charm you gave me worked so beautifully that I did not want  to trouble you. I really have to thank you. You knew what you were doing with  that.”

“Thank you,” Djalma said.

Ian paused for a moment. “I believe I have a related question.”

Then he told Djalma about the reality-transfer during meditation. He did not go  into details, just mentioned the fact the teapot had not been in the room, how  it had felt, and the impact the experience had had on him. Then Ian told how  since then he had achieved neither a new meditative transfer experience nor a  tea visit.

While he was relating his story, Djalma made no real response. He just made the  kind of slight diversionary sounds one might make when distractedly turning a  strange or unexpected idea over in his mind: “Uh-huh.” “Hm-m-m.” “Really?”

Ian assumed the limited responses meant Djalma was surprised. Ian had thought  the new kind of experience might have been caused by the token. This made Ian  wonder why he had assumed that all that happened was part of Djalma’s plan.

Ian concluded his story and said, “Maybe the token you gave me needs a new  charge.”

“I’m afraid it could never have been more than a temporary solution, Ian,”  Djalma replied. “It performed its only intended function. Your visits ceased to  pose any immediate threat to your health.

“You need to realize that the visits, in their previous form, may not be meant  to continue forever. It sounds as if you have moved into another phase.”

“Yes, the dearth stage. That’s what troubles me, Djalma.”

“I don’t think you realize the extent of what you’ve achieved, Ian. You removed  a distinct part of the portal, and yet it continues to function. Not only that,  you now have a degree of access beyond what the collective resonance of the  study gave you. You can hear the sounds of that place and seem to be somewhat  embodied within a physical form.

“This new development is almost unbelievable! I wish I could manage such an  experience.”

Initially, Ian swelled with pride. Seconds later, he deflated back to  humility—realizing he had no idea how his experience had been induced. Then he  sank to sheer terror. If he had no idea, and it had not been the specific result  of Djalma’s assistance, how would they know how or even if the portal would  function again?

“It’s only been a few days since your last visit,” Djalma continued. “It’s  possible that your nervous system can only take so much of such high-intensity  experiences. It’s quite probable this kind of a connection would be very  demanding on your spiritual energies. This was no ordinary visitation. I  wouldn’t push for the next journey too soon, Ian. You found your way there, and  it is likely you will do so again when you’re ready to handle it.”

Ian felt too anxious to adopt a wait-and-see approach. “Is it possible that my  reaction to the extended trip has changed me in such a way that Katerina and I  can no longer contact each other?”

“That is possible, Ian, but I think it unlikely. It’s too early to tell. We can  only wait and have faith that your inner intelligence knows what it’s doing, and  knows when you’ll be ready for more.”

“What about making the kind of counterbalance adjustment within me that you made  with the token? Wouldn’t that be a more direct solution?”

“Oh, no. Even if I were capable of such a thing, Ian, I wouldn’t do it.  Attempting to sculpt another’s energetic resonance would be a very dangerous  undertaking. Not only would such a reckless venture endanger your body, mind and  spirit, it could also harm me.”

“What about giving a new charge to the token?” Ian asked.

Gently but firmly, Djalma said, “You don’t understand the delicacy and potential  danger of what you’re suggesting. When we used the token, we weren’t in full  control of the result. It was a calculated gamble at best. I tried because you  were caught in a situation that was damaging you. The alteration seemed to be  the best of a number of possible choices, all of them questionable.

“This is an entirely different situation, despite what you may believe. Your  subconscious is in a recuperative phase. Whenever that recovery is complete, you  will probably return to Katerina. But this visit may have yet other new  aspects.”

Ian was frustrated by Djalma’s rational path. Djalma, however, had never given  Ian reason to doubt him or his wisdom. Until given reason to do otherwise, Ian  would trust him.

“Ian,” Djalma said. “I need to point out something that I know you know, but  seem to have momentarily lost track of. I have the terms to describe what is  going on. I have studied the relative theories, and even have the odd talent  that suggests possession of some superlative information. But you are the ‘one  who knows’ in this situation.

“I cannot do what you have done, nor have I ever done anything similar. You lack  the conscious understanding of what is going on and why. But your spirit knows.  Within you is all the information you will ever need.

“If you allow me, I can be a support to you. I can point you back to yourself  when you stray. But that’s all I can do.”

Djalma went silent.

For the first time since he had given Djalma the position of acting as his  personal source of wisdom, Ian was forced to return to the place of his own  insight. It was both powerful and painful to retake control of his direction. He  too became quiet, trying to reclaim the energy, the will, to take charge. Ian  accepted that what had begun as his respite from this responsibility had gotten  out of hand.

After a few moments, Ian remembered Djalma’s offer of assistance. He was not  alone, and for that Ian was genuinely grateful.

“Is there anything I can do to repay your kindness, Djalma?”

“Call Liz and leave me a message—better yet, come by—after you see Katerina  next. I would really like to see you again.”

Ian was both surprised and comforted.

Djalma finished their conversation by saying, “Ian, I’m not trying to intrude,  but if I were you, when you see Katerina, I would not assume this new access  will remain open forever. You two are too intertwined to take these  opportunities casually. There is a purpose for this connection, and I would say  a very important purpose considering the energy it takes to overcome the  obstacles that generally disallow such cross-reality reunions.”

Continued next week, Sacred Vow

copyright 2006 CG Walters

For those who cannot wait to read Sacred  Vow over installments, I have a gift for you–the first 15 chapters online to be  read at your leisure!

This link http://authonomy.com/ViewBook.aspx?bookid=1557 is a listing the 1st 15 chapters on HarperCollins.London.

If you enjoy what you read, I’d ask a  favor in return; help me pursue a foreign rights publishing contract for Sacred  Vow.

Please register on the site  (create a profile on http://www.authonomy.com/ ), and  search for Sacred Vow. Once you have the page up with the Sacred Vow book cover,  notice that to the right of the page there is a column with several options, one  of which is “Back this book“,  please click that –this adds Sacred Vow to your bookshelf, used to determine  which books the editors will consider.—This  is not a purchase. Authonomy is  strictly a mechanism for selecting books for publishing within HarperCollins.

Please check your profile  page afterwards, ensuring that the Sacred Vow cover shows in your Bookshelf.

If you have time, make a  comment on Sacred Vow by going to this page
http://www.authonomy.com/ViewBook.aspx?bookid=1557
the comment box is below the book description. I would love your input. Fiction is a  collective creation between reader and writer.

Thank you for your continued support.

Blessings all,

CG

C.G. Walters primarily writes fiction that focuses on the multidimensionality of our loves  and our lives.

Autographed/signed copies of his current  novel, Sacred Vow,  are available from the author– or purchase from Amazon as ebook , paperback,  or Kindle version

Receive new editions of Into the Mist through a reader http://feeds.feedburner.com/IntoTheMist

Please join me as a friend at any of my other favorite hangouts: Facebook, Gaia, Myspace, StumbleUpon, Friendfeed, Twitter, Plurk, or Digg

Parallels

photo by Jsome1

Sacred Vow’s central character, Ian Sarin, is drawn into the world of a complete stranger with whom he is immediately familiar and unexplainably becomes aware of various other lives they are sharing even now. Much to Ian’s amazement, he finds out that the bond between him and this mysterious woman is a key element needed to heal a growing disintegration in the Collective Consciousness that makes up all reality. A compelling, thought-provoking book. –EarthStar Magazine

Installment 15 of 22 Sacred Vow (Dragon’s Beard Publishing, ISBN: 978-0-9774271-4-7, paperback, Fiction: Visionary/Metaphysical).

Parallels

On his drive back home Ian gave a lot of thought to Djalma’s description of the “doorway” to Katerina, and how it was opened. He was excited about the implications that he had subconsciously been constructing the proper combination for a long time. Ian wondered what other information might be harbored within his mind but just outside his present understanding? Had some part of him known all along about Katerina and the ties they had?

How little we know, he now thought, about our true motivations and the effects of even our simplest choices.

The items in Ian’s study now took on almost a sacred importance for him. Just to think that only that combination of items would allow him—and only him (since he was part of the required collective signature)—to experience Katerina’s world and allow her to experience his world made him extremely aware of everything in that room. Djalma’s speculation had validated something Ian had realized about himself for quite awhile; he sometimes felt compelled to acquire certain items for his home, and he was never quite sure why. If that compulsion had been leading him to create a collective signature, then that was very comforting.

Since childhood, Ian had been accused of giving inordinate importance to the selection of his personal belongings. Somehow he always knew that those who taunted him simply did not understand its importance, though he could not explain what “it” was. Secure in his perception of a calling to possess specific items, or to be involved with certain people, situations, or places, Ian had moved through life responding to his internal guide. Invariably, this was his path, despite his own conscious mind’s frequent discomfort due to its lack of understanding.

Ian could discern neither rhyme nor reason in the motivations to choose things—by now he had come to accept the urgings of his intuition. Most of the time he went about his business making choices in as whimsical a manner as anyone else—except those times when he felt a choice rise from his depths. Once he verified that the urge was genuinely intuitive, Ian did not question the choice further.

Those “must-have” possessions came from greatly varied sources: yard sales, antique stores, discount chains, exclusive art galleries, trash discarded on the curb, or just about anywhere else. Ian didn’t go looking for these “significant” pieces, but could not ignore his response to such an item once it was discovered. Much less often, there were items that elicited an equal demand of avoidance.

Over the years, Ian had frequently sought a logical rationale or discernable pattern for his choices, only to acquiesce eventually. Intuition alone seemed to make an item “wrong” or “right” for him. There were even times when Ian truly did not like the look of an acquired item, but early on realized he could not pass it up or get rid of it once it was identified.

The most challenging expression of this instinctual demand was the house that he had lived in for many years now. Prior to encountering it, Ian had never had any desire to live in a town on the coastline. One year, he was on vacation and saw that old gray saltbox. Abandoning what most would have considered good sense, complying with a vehement call from his inner guide, the next thing Ian knew, he had bought the house, carted all his worldly possessions there, and begun a new job nearby.

True, once Ian did acquire something, he had developed an inescapable ritual of moving the item from room to room, and place to place within a room. Ian would bring the article in and place it in the first possible location, usually closest to the door. Sometimes the new piece would stay in that initial spot for weeks, even if he found the placing to be very inconvenient. He was simply awaiting inspiration by the inevitable process that he knew would eventually take place.

Other times Ian had barely set the piece down before he felt compelled to move it again. Sometimes again and again. He bought a beautiful green vase of blown glass on a base of smooth, gray river stone, which he eventually had a strong urge to destroy just so he could be released from its obsessive, but indecisive, drive to find its proper “home.” For weeks Ian was obliged to move that vase to a new location just about every time he laid eyes on it—and he was grateful when it accepted a final location!

Usually, Ian would allow a piece to remain in its first location until he inadvertently picked it up as he walked by and deposited it elsewhere. There it would remain until the item “magically” found some place better suited for itself. After a time, Ian would realize that a particular possession had been in the same location for an extended period. A feeling of relief would come over him: knowing the item’s proper place had been found, and he was free from further obligation to it.

Once back in his driveway after his visit with Djalma, Ian sat in the car in his driveway and stared at his saltbox home, which he had once believed unexplainably atypical of his tastes.

“Thank you,” he said aloud, releasing a charge of gratitude for all those unexplainable intuitions that had attracted so much playful—and sometimes harsher—ridicule over the years.

Ian was sure that Djalma was right about what had caused the unpleasantness in the recent visits. The first tea after receiving the token was glorious—the completely flawless experience of joy that is the delirium of new love. When their visit began, Ian watched Katerina as she read a large book in her home. This was like being given back his early experience, except now he knew more of who she was and what he felt about their time together. Ian did not have the uneasy feelings that he had experienced with the first few trips. Djalma had given him back the beginning, but this time the journeys had—Katerina and he had—a history.

Katerina’s face had the same radiant beauty of months ago. Her smile was back, and her eyes were bright and clear.

Ian remembered what Djalma had asked him to do. But what had he meant when he said, “Find out why you and she are in contact”? This may not speak well of my mental health, Ian thought, but Djalma’s question makes as much sense as it would to tell young lovers to figure out why they are enamored.

Ian was thoroughly enjoying his life again, and especially time in his study. His friends made a point of expressing their relief that he was regaining a healthful appearance. To them, Ian credited the change to an herbal concoction, cooked up for him by a curious new friend in the mountains.

No longer was Ian drawn into another reality when outside his study. He regained the clarity of mind that he had been used to before the visits had become dark. He went back to enjoying his previous routines, going out with friends, and even enjoying his programming work. Now that he had Katerina back, Ian no longer felt a need to know how or why the visits were happening. Though it may have seemed insane to some to say so, he liked his life, as unorthodox as it was.

Ian’s only concern was he hadn’t been able to put to rest Djalma’s parting words. Ian wanted to forget them—he tried to forget them—but they persisted in his thoughts. Despite that, Ian gave most of his attention to the additional time he had been given with Katerina.

They were again seeing each other regularly. Their visits were as varied, yet as routine, as they had been early on. All their exchanges remained extrasensory and pantomimed. Ian continued to feel closer to Katerina after each visit. With each interaction, he felt even more satisfied within his own spirit. Then one day something a little strange happened.

Ian had always experience a momentary loss of awareness of the present when he visited Katerina. He would be looking at something, and then he would be seeing her. When the reality shift finished, he would find himself staring at an item within his room again, quite often the same thing as before the visit began. The shifts had always been instantaneous, except when things had gone dark, before the use of Djalma’s token. At that time, the returns to consciousness had been less distinct, leaving his mind cloudy and his emotions distressed.

Usually, Ian would start a pot of water. He would not wait for the kettle to whistle, but instead keep an eye on the heating water, while he put leaves in the strainer and generally tinkered around the kitchen. Once the hot water was in the teapot, he would set the timer for brewing time.

For some unknown reason, one night Ian took the teapot into the kitchen and before putting any water on the stove, he returned to the study, looking for something, but he could not remember what. Perhaps losing his sense of purpose, he sat down in his old recliner, per his normal ritual, but without that all-important teapot.

The next thing he knew, Ian was slowly returning to awareness from something he had to describe as a meditation. It was not abrupt like the returns from his usual tea visits, and yet he was much too conscious to have been asleep. He had a feeling of glorious warmth rising from his inner depths. As he became more alert, Ian realized he had been with Katerina. In all the months past, he had never been graced with a visit while the teapot was not in the room.

A feeling of joy flooded his spirit, as if he had just had the grandest good fortune. He was used to the good visits mostly passing in seconds. Tonight his watch said he had been elsewhere for almost two hours.

Sitting there, both confused and delighted, the memory of what had happened during the meditation pleasantly broke into Ian’s conscious mind. Once he saw the first pictures of recollection, the rest of the memory began to flow freely. The experience felt like a lived memory, something recalled from his own life, not a dream, a vision, or other indirect experience.

His elation became mixed with fear. Everything about this visit was very different from any other journey he had experienced. Katerina was different. She looked years younger. Her surroundings were not the house that he’d become used to seeing her in. Despite the changes, Ian had no doubt it was Katerina. It did not matter how her appearance might have changed. A visceral part of him recognized her spirit.

Katerina moved about, attending to her interests and concerns, in a parallel life, previously unknown to him. She cooked a meal, read a book for a while, and played a stringed instrument Ian was unfamiliar with. This all seemed to go on and on. And he heard her speak! He could hear everything going on in that world.

Ian thought the memory of her voice would make him pass out as he recalled it. He fought to stay conscious, because consciousness was his means for savoring this experience and he was not willing to lose one instant of that memory. From an objective perspective, Ian could not say that her voice was anything special. Except to him, who had so longed to hear that voice, her voice was like an angel’s song. He now sat with eyes closed, watching those images passing and listening to her voice. His entire body resonated to her vocal tones.

Ian did not move from his chair for the better part of the night. Never having been much on remembering more than morsels of the occasional dream, Ian was stunned at how much he remembered of this meditative reverie. He would have been glad to go over and over the same small sequence of memory that evening, but there was no need to. This one journey seemed to cover days of time spent in this Katerina’s life.

Another very definite difference was that this Katerina, without question, was speaking to someone other than himself, who stood exactly where Ian perceived himself to be. She called the person of her attention by another name. Though the name did not give Ian any indication of gender, it was obvious she was interacting with a male partner.

It was as if he was looking through the eyes of the male in her presence, as a spectator only. Ian remained a distinctly separate consciousness from this individual, but he was anchored to this world within the body of Katerina’s partner. Ian could not experience this man’s sense of touch, but could smell the aromas of this world. He was not privy to this man’s thoughts, but he felt a mysterious sense of unity with this individual, even more than that of merely sharing a body.

One benefit of being hosted in this unfamiliar place seemed to explain why he understood the words spoken by the couple—though he knew it was not a language he should understand. Unfortunately, he could not always comprehend the intention of the conversation. The couple referred to events and situations in their life and relationship that Ian did not have knowledge of.

Ian’s awareness seemed to expand long enough to allow him to watch several days of that life: those several days took place in only two hours that passed in his world, despite the implied temporal conflicts. This made it clearly apparent to Ian that he was experiencing a parallel life with Katerina, an alternate reality—one always before him, but not usually available to his primary world’s perception.

Katerina’s home was now situated in a lovely, open countryside. The surrounding flora and fauna were unfamiliar. Only the attire and the odd customs separated the occasional neighbor whom Katerina and her partner met from the people Ian had met in the countryside near Liz’s B&B. In both cases, they were all courteous and giving of themselves.

Ian did not know if it was because he was exhausted of because he had simply came to the end of his trance, but finally, there seemed nothing more to see. Whether he had eyes closed or eyes open, the scenes no longer flowed into his consciousness. The most Ian could do was to bring up repeat portions of his experience to savor as memories.

That meditative trance had had the intensity of the earlier visits. This experience was as real as the best of Ian’s experience in his everyday, waking world. He could have sworn he had experienced these few days firsthand.

Continued next week, One Who Knows

copyright 2006 CG Walters

For those who cannot wait to read Sacred Vow over installments, I have a gift for you–the first 15 chapters online to be read at your leisure!

This link is a listing the 1st 15 chapters on HarperCollins,London.

If you enjoy what you read, I’d ask a favor in return; help me pursue a foreign rights publishing contract for Sacred Vow.

Please register on the site (create a profile on http://www.authonomy.com/ ), and search for Sacred Vow. Once you have the page up with the Sacred Vow book cover, notice that to the right of the page there is a column with several options, one of which is “Back this book“, please click that –this adds Sacred Vow to your bookshelf, used to determine which books the editors will consider.—This is not a purchase. Authonomy is strictly a mechanism for selecting books for publishing within HarperCollins.

Please check your profile page afterwards, ensuring that the Sacred Vow cover shows in your Bookshelf.

If you have time, make a comment on Sacred Vow by going to this page
http://www.authonomy.com/ViewBook.aspx?bookid=1557
the comment box is below the book description. I would love your input. Fiction is a collective creation between reader and writer.

Thank you for your continued support.

Blessings all,

CG

C.G. Walters primarily writes fiction that focuses on the multidimensionality of our loves and our lives.

HTML clipboardAutographed/signed copies of his current novel, Sacred Vow, are available from the author– or purchase from Amazon as ebook , paperback, or Kindle version

Receive new editions of Into the Mist through a reader http://feeds.feedburner.com/IntoTheMist

Please join me as a friend at any of my other favorite hangouts: Facebook, Gaia, Myspace, StumbleUpon, Friendfeed, Twitter, Plurk, or Digg

Djalma (cont’d 3)

Photo by h.koppdelaney

Mr. Walters conveys the reality of mystical worlds and our interaction with them very eloquently.  He states that there is “one true love in its infinite expression,” meaning there is one connection, above all others that can make us feel whole, like our full selves. This book is highly recommended for the reader seeking a love story that knows no limits. As a metaphysical novel, one can expand their views of worlds and civilizations existing with us, and how we may affect those close to us with or without our knowledge.

“Sacred Vow” is highly recommended, and a sequel would be much welcomed. —Catherine Phelps for Reader Views

Installment 14 of 22 of the serialization of Sacred Vow (Dragon’s Beard Publishing, ISBN: 978-0-9774271-4-7, paperback, Fiction: Visionary/Metaphysical).

Djalma (continued3)

It had been several months since the experience of the tense return from the visit with Katerina. Ian didn’t recall right away what had been going on at the time. As best he could remember, it was just like the months that had preceded it. He spent his days with computers at work, went out with friends, came home, and then did this all over again. Ian’s initial memories of those uneventful times were faint. He had been a little preoccupied with more recent concerns.

Trying to think what may have had a terrible effect on his paranormal teas, he tried to summon unpleasant memories.

Actually, Ian had to admit that things had been going particularly well through that period of life. Work, his friends, all seemed to be going through a positive phase. His time working and socializing had been carefree and happy.

Just as Ian was about to throw up his hands in defeat, he remembered a project member at work whom he’d found particularly irksome. It was not that the person ever did anything that truly warranted such feelings. This fellow was just one of those people whom Ian always felt conflict with, even when they agreed.

“I’ve got it. Dixon Peerit! For the whole time I worked with him, I felt a strange tension.”

“There is a way, Ian, to get a little better idea if your contact with this person had the type of consequence we’re looking for. It sounds like you’ve probably had a previous experience similar to what I’m suggesting. This is something like a guided meditation. It’s not hypnosis, just a method of relaxation to help you focus on a subject. It will allow me to get a feeling for your subconscious mind’s assessment of Dixon. So, if you’re willing, get comfortable and close your eyes.”

Certain they were on the verge of a solution, Ian closed his eyes without hesitation. “Ready.”

“Just relax,” Djalma said. “The first thing you have to do is to let go of all your conscious beliefs about what has caused a change in the visits.”

Djalma was silent, and Ian made every effort to let go of his hope that they were about to find the reason his visits had become distorted.

“Now, slowly, breathe deeply into your diaphragm, not your lungs. Hold that breath. Slowly, breathe out.”

After a few minutes of this, Djalma asked him to remember Dixon. Despite instructions, Ian had already been revving up this memory. In his mind, Dixon was inextricably guilty as the source of Ian’s misfortune.

Djalma peacefully coached Ian: “Bring up the memory of Dixon. Release any thought of him, but hold the image.

“Hold it. No thought, just hold the image.”

As soothing as Djalma’s voice and instructions were, Ian was ready to jump into action when Djalma said, “Okay, now let the image go, and we are going to come back to full awareness . . .

“Breathe deeply, and open your eyes when you are comfortable.”

Ian stared at Djalma, anxious to hear his conclusion.

“It’s not him,” Djalma said when he opened his eyes.

“Are you certain? That guy used to give me the worst feelings—”

Djalma cut him off. “And there might have been a good reason, but it seems as soon as he left your project, you were no longer concerned with him.”

True, Dixon had not crossed Ian’s mind since he was moved to another project area.

“You’re certain?” Ian was having a hard time letting go of his hope that the only unpleasantness he could recall during that time was the answer to the problem.

“I’m certain. Dixon did not have a lasting effect on your consciousness, and that would have been the only way another person could affect the journey through you. We’ll have to try again.”

Shaking his head, Ian said, “There’s nothing. It was a particularly good time in my life.”

“That does not preclude the type of effect we are looking for, Ian. You should also be trying to remember anything you found uncommonly pleasant or enjoyable during that time. It could be an impressive or exceptionally agreeable person whom you had just met, or a wonderfully satisfying experience that happened shortly before that time. It could even be new music you had just discovered, something that had an unusual impact.”

It seemed like an odd request. Look for the good as the root of the bad? Ian just sat there in disbelief.

After a few minutes he began searching for the best, not the worst, of his memories of that time a few months earlier.

“Of course, there are always new songs on the radio,” Ian offered.

“Any that you continued to listen to once they were not played on the radio or that changed your musical tastes?”

“No . . . there were movies that I saw and enjoyed, but none I’ve given much thought to since.”

They went through everything Ian had done for several months leading up to the first unpleasant experience. Ian was almost regretting that he had such a precise memory and that he had so many good things to remember. By the time Djalma was finished, Ian was beginning to grow weary of that stretch of time, which he had just remembered as so satisfying.

Djalma latched onto Ian’s mention of a fellow who was the team leader of the same project that he’d worked on with Dixon, Peter (pronounced Pay-ter) Rostich. Ian assured Djalma that was a dead end, but Djalma was having none of it. The more tribute Ian paid to Peter, the more adamant Djalma became.

Peter was one of those people everyone liked, a natural leader. He could get any member of his team to do just what he needed done. It seemed to be a talent that he had always had. No matter how much he asked of a person, that person felt it was no more than was reasonable, and Peter always showed his appreciation of his or her cooperation.

Even outside work, Peter was an exceptionally interesting individual. It seemed he must have begun to pursue his many interests when he was very young. He was musically talented, proficient in violin, piano, and several other instruments. Hanging from his office wall was evidence of considerable talent in acrylic painting, pen and ink, and digital art. He had used his very keen mind to become proficient in each media—and it seemed, many other accomplishments—one by one.

Peter loved his wife, adored his kids, and was dedicated to his community. Ian admired Peter’s way of looking at life; he believed Peter “had his heart in the right place.”

So Ian had to admit the positive experience of meeting Peter had stayed with him longer than his negative feelings about Dixon. One doesn’t meet such admirable people that often, he thought. But he could not imagine how that positive experience could have brought on such unpleasantness.

“Djalma, to be honest,” Ian finally said, “I don’t like the idea that something satisfying might set off dreadful experiences.”

Djalma’s look was disarmingly kind. “Peter didn’t cause the change. Bad results are not inherent in good things. Your experience is just the product of an accident. The energetic signature of your tea environment was perfect for the outcome you achieved and desired. Any significant alteration was going to make a change. It so happened that this time the resulting change was undesirable.

“Remember, few people, not even you in most cases, are likely to encounter such a doorway and generally have no need for concern. It was not meeting Peter that made the difference but rather his continued effect on you, your perceptions, and therefore your energetic signature. But this is assuming that Peter is the element we are looking for. If you’ll close your eyes and relax again, we’ll know soon enough.”

They went through the guided meditation process again. Several times Djalma asked Ian to hold onto the vision of Peter. Ian could not excite much faith in this pursuit, and the image faded. He was glad to have met such a person, glad there were people like Peter in the world, but Ian had no desire, then or before, to spend time visualizing Peter.

Finally, Djalma told Ian to release the image and come back to an alert state.

Ian sat silently this time, looking into Djalma’s eyes. Djalma had somewhat of a dazed look. For several minutes he just sat without speaking or blinking, barely breathing. When the trance broke, a smile spread over Djalma’s face, and he pulled from his pocket an ornate metal disk, about the size of a fifty-cent piece. He handed it to Ian, saying, “Take this into the room with you for your next tea.”

Ian turned the token over and over, enjoying the artwork of it, without making any comment or asking any questions. There was something innately reassuring about having the item in his palm. He could hear Djalma taking in one long, slow breath after another.

“Your response to Peter is what we were looking for. It had a positive impact on your spirit, but it also changed your vibration, and therefore it changed the portal for your reality shifts. I’m expecting the token to counterbalance that change.”

Ecstatic at the prospect, Ian rose immediately to his feet, almost knocking his head on the ledge of books above him. Clutching the token, which felt like his salvation, Ian hurriedly expressed his appreciation. “Thank you, Djalma. This is wonderful! Thank you, so much!”

Ian reached down, shook Djalma’s hand longer than he needed to, and pulled Djalma to his feet. Mixing goodbyes with more gratitude, he hardly let Djalma speak again. He was too eager to try Djalma’s solution. Besides, those herbs cooking on the stove had become a little too intense for his comfort.

As Ian made his way quickly through the woods toward his car, Djalma called from the porch, “Find out why you and she are in contact.”

Later, during his drive, Ian felt bad about the hurried, even discourteous, way he had fled from the meeting with Djalma. He had been able to tell from Djalma’s several attempts to speak that there was more to tell about this solution than Ian gave Djalma time to do so.

The truth was that Ian did not care to hear about any possible side effects or be given any precautions. He felt like he had a reprieve from a terminal disease. Anything that might happen had to be better than what he had been experiencing.

Continued next week, Parallels

copyright 2006 CG Walters

Thank you for your continued support.

Blessings all,

CG

C.G. Walters primarily writes fiction that focuses on the multidimensionality of our loves and our lives.

Autographed/signed copies of his current novel, Sacred Vow, are available from the author– or purchase from Amazon as ebook , paperback, or Kindle version

Receive new editions of Into the Mist through a reader http://feeds.feedburner.com/IntoTheMist

Please join me as a friend at any of my other favorite hangouts: Facebook, Gaia, Myspace, StumbleUpon, Friendfeed, Twitter, Plurk, or Digg