juggernautt7

[juggernautt7]

Something happened today; something small and meaningless that jumped out at me in a big way. When it happened I thought, "Well that's handy." and then the voice of the universe said in a telepathic way, "Pay attention." Then it hit me.

For as long as I can remember I have noticed synchronizing patterns as if my life is recorded and programmed by an algorithm. Numbers, words, colors, symbols, animals, phrases, patterns... Everywhere. Every time I begin to question it something happens that reinforces my intuition that it's a sign for me to pay attention to.

Today I pulled out a bottle to begin mixing formula for my infant son. He was on my hip so I searched for a bottle I already had open so I wouldn't have to stoop to the ground and wrestle a bottle with one hand out of the package. I found one. It looked like it might have just enough. 6 oz. I am legally blind and lost sight of the orientation of the stream of water as I was pouring it and spilled some on the counter. "Shit.", I said under my breath knowing I would have to wrestle another bottle free for the last oz or two of water. As the last drop emptied out of the water bottle the water in the baby bottle hit the 6 oz line directly on the money. It couldn't have been more perfect.

As I said before, at first I thought it was a handy coincidence. But then something hit me like a transparent brick wall. "Synchronicity. Pay attention." And suddenly I had a vision of every time my life felt like it was inconvenient or out of control, traumatic or scary, every time I made a mistake or someone wronged me. Spilled water on the counter. But every time, somehow, the water that was meant for me was just right. Exactly perfect. Everything seemed to line up.

I don't know the answers. I don't know what's out there. But I do know there's something and I think it works for everyone to be right on time for exactly what's meant for them.

[juggernautt7]

The waves crashed on the craggy rocks below like the waves of tears that threatened to pour hot down her cheeks would well behind her eyes and then subside. The realization of what was happening became overwhelming while simultaneously sinking into her with a peaceful acceptance. She knew it what had happened and she knew what was coming.

It didn't matter how far she ran, where she hid. It didn't matter if the sun never kissed her tear-streaked face again. She would forever be burdened by the memory of that moment. Even now as she stood facing the horizon with the weight of the world on her shoulders she mentally kicked it down into a hole she'd created in her mind's eye. But no matter how many times she kicked it off her it climbed back up the hole after her clawing and aching to sink its teeth into her.

She took a deep breath and with a jack hammer in her chest she let it climb back up but this time she would relive it. She had resigned herself to allowing that memory to wash over her like a viscous, oozing lava that would incinerate her but painfully slowly. And there she was again...

She sat waiting for the announcer to call her name. Chatting with family and nervously reciting the lyrics of the song she was about to sing in front of thousands of people at the benefit she grazed on finger foods, a belly full of butterflies. The transition music began to play in the background as the show was about to begin. They announced the names of big donations, told short but intimate stories of how the donations had helped and reminded everyone where to get their refreshments. And then the announcer began opening her introduction. She slammed her drink down and ran back stage waiting for the moment she was supposed to step foot in front of the crowd as she had rehearsed countless times in the past months.

Step out, smile, wave, not too big. 7 paces to the mic stand. Don't turn it on yet. Wait for the music. Cue music. Her heart was thudding so loudly in her chest she wondered if the mic would pick it up. The lights were hot but the anticipating eyes of the crowd were a thousand times hotter. 2 measures until vocals. Deep breath...

The song started out softly and you could feel everyone settling in to the performance. As the song began to climax she gained confidence and you could hear spotted whispers here and there about how impressed they were. She belted the chorus and they cheered. This was it. This was her moment!

As the song faded out the last two lines were sung unaccompanied by music, gently, as a beautifully timed departure from a powerful journey together between singer and audience. As she began the second line, without even so much as a warning, a small horn-like sound shot out of her body. Her chest tensed up and within a split second she realized the audience had heard it too. She froze, the last 8 words of the song unsung. And then without even so much as a knock on the back door the most powerfully robust emission she had ever experienced in her life left her body for what seemed like an eternity. It was like the exodus and her rectum was Egypt. God parted the pink sea and out came an entire nation of methane, freed from intestinal slavery.

The next 4 seconds was a silent dam of appall broken by the rushing waters of roaring laughter. She quickly dropped the mic without turning it off or returning it to the stand and then turned to run off stage.

As the memory faded she came to terms with who she was now. Who she had to be. She realized that this was something she would have to own forever. As she stood on that rocky cliff watching the waves crash below, she let a single, solitary tear roll down her cheek and into the ocean as she said to herself, "Sometimes I just be farting."

[juggernautt7]

"Help me. Help me find home." I pray to whatever is out there. Memories I can't quite see, things I know but can't quite remember sit perched on the branches of my mind like a name you just can't recall waits on the tip of your tongue. I'm a shaken bottle of soda aching to burst the moment the top is unscrewed.

How? How do I get it off? I think and wonder, wonder and think, try to remember. I circle endlessly around the answers like a bubble around a drain. But the drain rejects me. What if I pop before I cascade down the pipe that leads to the answer?

"We're waiting". The voice is like a chime in the wind but softer, gentler. It's as if it almost isn't even there and yet so beautiful it unmistakably is. Always the same voice. Quiet. Small. Who is she? What do the clues mean she leaves for me? Why?

The numbers appear like a wink every day. Bread crumbs that sing softly, "Follow me." And I do. But only more questions surface. Where are they taking me? Where am I going? Where did I come from and where do I belong? Why do I feel like a giant red square among small blue circles? What is wrong with me? Am I going crazy? I can't tell anyone about what I experience. They look at me with big eyes swimming in pools of concern and offer resources to mental health services.

I see a doctor. I am counseled by a licensed therapist, unraveling tangled webs of behavioral reactions to trauma. I take my pills on a daily schedule to quell the constant state of hyper awareness and overwhelming panic. These symptoms are minimally maintained if you could call it that. But still the numbers, the questions, the voice that says, "Keep going.", "Keep looking."

Maybe I am crazy. Maybe it's just a matter of time before I am overcome by this sense of urgent searching and I fly to kiss the abruptness of the earth silencing the thoughts, the questions, the theories. Or maybe, like Alice, I am one small door away from the answers and I'm much to large to walk through something so simple. Maybe there is all around me the tasting of a tart or a sweet sip of liquid that can transform me into the proper amount of whatever I am meant to be in order to pass through.

Maybe.