Pondering the Pavement

March 6, 2014

A Moment in Truth

ImageWhen I tell someone I’m a medium I receive a well-established array of responses. First and foremost is the slack-jawed blank stare that resides somewhere between disbelief and “WTF did you just say”. That is usually followed by the religious zealot, who crosses themselves as they back out the door, insisting they’ll pray for me but at a distance. A nearby neighbor is the flat-out skeptic that wouldn’t believe Santa if the jolly old elf slapped ‘em into a Christmas tree. And finally, you have the delightful souls who already know of the infinite possibilities and realities of what I do. It’s those people who dowse me with an assortment of questions and commentary that would rival any Whitman’s Sampler box of chocolates.

The most popular of these is, “You are SO lucky to have such a great gift!”

Most days I agree with that wholeheartedly. Lucky, blessed, honored, you name it. But there are times when this gift feels more like that gaudy, ill-fitting sweater that was knitted by your colorblind great aunt after nine too-many holiday eggnogs.

I will say, up front, that I have witnessed moments that can only be classified as miracles. I have seen lost faith restored, spiritual reunions from across the ethers, grieving parents embracing and accepting the continuance of the lives of their beloved children once thought gone forever. I have seen so many people sitting before me laughing tears of joy, instead of sorrow, as their loved ones brought those happy moments to the forefront once more. I’ve delivered guidance from a place higher than our own level of being. I have relayed messages far beyond my own understanding that have assisted others in healing, believing in themselves again, freeing themselves of self-imposed guilt or shame. Miracles. Each and every one.

But, as with anything, there is a downside. Those moments that rank right up there with getting a root canal at the DMV as your ex announces all of your shortcomings over the PA system all the while scraping their fingernails on a chalkboard. Get the idea?

There are a number of unforgettable slap-in-the-face annoyances. For example, there was the geriatric client taking a whiz in the midst of a phone reading. Yes, it could have been worse. She could have done it during an in-person session. I suppose I should count my blessings on that one. What got me, beyond the absurdity of the whole thing, was the blatant disrespect the sitter demonstrated for me, the process and, most of all, Spirit! Another kick in the gut are those who actually see no harm in asking me to “spy” on people for them. “What is my ex-husband doing right now?” Another fun one was, “How can I hide my property in Vail from my ex-wife?” Really, people?

I vividly recall a reading I gave in 2008. She was a divorcee and had recently reconnected with an old high school flame. They were going out on their first date in 15 years and she, in essence, wanted to know if she was going to get laid. Hand to God, that’s what she was asking. I did not receive, nor did I search for, a response to that inquiry. I simply made myself available to whatever insight Spirit wished to pass along (such as a boot to the head, for example, but I digress). Spirit, never being One to disappoint, gave her something truly amazing. I found myself being visited by a young, fair-haired toddler, no more than two years of age, calling out to her ‘mommy.’ She was smiling, full of life and light, with arms outstretched as if coming in for a doozy of a hug. I described what I was sensing to the woman. And her reply shook me to my very core.

“Oh, yea, that’s my daughter,” she said. “She was hit by a car. I know she’s OK. So, what about my date on Saturday?”

She honestly could not have cared less. I still reel over that one. Where was her heart? Her soul? It was as if she was a gas tank well under E.

Those sessions are the ones that really knock me to my knees. The ones that make me question this life choice of mine. I was enraged and, yes, insulted. Insulted for not just myself, but for her daughter as well. How could the woman snub such a gift? After the call I just sat in my office fuming over the ordeal. And, as usual, my Master Guide, Robert, stepped up with his own gentle boot to MY head. Robert tends to be my voice of reason. Now there’s a duty that can test the patience of even the highest of evolved souls.

Robert stated, “Everyone, and I mean every single soul, is an individual. Each soul has their own journey to undertake at their own speed and time-frame. You cannot permit yourself to be caught up within the placement of another along their way. You cannot be angered by the soul in front of you at the market just because you have 1 item and they have 1 times 20! They are doing as they see fit at that time, they are traversing at the rate they deem fit for themselves. They are accumulating what sustenance they require—IN THE MOMENT. But what about tomorrow, tonight, an hour from now? Minds change. Ideals renew. Beliefs destruct and are rebuilt. The city skyline changes, buildings rise, fall, alter…only to rise again. Judge not in the moment for you are unaware of what the next moment may bring. Give thanks for the moments—each one—and for your opportunity to witness all that it brings forth. Especially the limitless possibilities of unending renewal!” There was a brief pause and then his signature sign-off, “I am done.”

Well, I guess he told me, huh? But Robert’s right. He’s always right (and you have no idea how often he holds THAT over my head…)

This work saddens me when I am faced with the cold-hard fact that there are many people feeling so lost, hopeless, even empty inside. But that sadness is replaced by the truth in Robert’s memorandum. What may seem hopeless today can become hope tomorrow, tonight, an hour from now… even by the very next moment.


Copyright 2014 © Charles A. Filius



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