I Know Not What I Know...July 21, 1999

I Know Not What I Know...July 21, 1999

At long last...peace. It is amazing the sheer level of ruckus two dogs can make, compounded I suppose by the dimensions of my house. Small rooms and small halls make even baby Moo seem more like Dumbo. Reekie and Moo were positively hyper beyond reproach this evening whilst I work. Finally, after my house has scraps of tooth pocked paper here, tidbits of garbage there, and fur everywhere, they sleep. I fear that it is only a moment's respite, but I will take what they afford me. Moo needs to get into everything, and be everywhere, all at the same time. Reekie, invaritably a perpetual obstacle for whirlwind Moo, barks continuously in protest. I am willing to wager the next, at least legitimate, protest will come from my neighbours on the other side of my wall. And oh boy, when Will and Gull even so much as dare to poke their noses out from whatever crawl space they have been hiding in for mere self preservation, it becomes something akin to WWF. I feel nostalgic for the pre-Moo days, when Will would at least lay in plain view, and Gull would play sniper-kitty with Reekie. This involved his hiding under a piece of furniture, and swatting an unsuspecting Cherokee paw as it ambled on by. Now, the house wholly belongs to Moo, and we are all her hostage. At least while she is a puppy. At least while she survives being a puppy.

I awoke with a start this morning after having a very vivid dream. I dreamed that I was on board one of the vessels looking for JFK Jr., and that using radar or sonar (I cannot remember), we found the plane wreckage. The debris itself was upside down, preventing anyone from seeing anything but the bottom of the plane. I remember saying to myself, in the dream, that there would be a body inside once the wreckage was exhumed. A fairly horrid dream, if I do say so myself. While I certainly do not support the media hype concerning the disappearances, the fact that anyone would have to suffer such trauma is saddening. It is especially so for those left behind to try to pick up the pieces and carry on with their emptier lives.

As is custom in my morning routine (albiet after Reekie, Moo and indeed, myself, have morning pees), I clicked on the computer and downloaded today's latest news headlines. I was taken aback with the first headline I saw, that JFK Jr., and his plane, were indeed found. I had to sit and remain silent for a moment both out of respect for the tragedy itself, and the fact that the spirits felt it necessary to inform me in their own way. I am left, now, to try to figure out why they did that. It certainly was not an issue that was foremost on my mind, Indeed, I did what I could to avoid having to listen to the same hype repeatedly. However, I never get information in such a manner without there being something I need to learn or know from it. The spirits are always so ambiguous.

I have had other such experiences of heightened perception. Most are rather mundane, like knowing what song is going to be played next on the radio, or thinking of someone dear and then they call. This happens regularly. Nevertheless, when it involves more newsworthy incidents, I have to sit down and take notice. I have to ponder just what it is I am being told for. Sadly, although it would appear that it is in hopes of avoiding tragedy, I often am not in a position to do so without sounding like a raving lunatic.

In one such experience, I was returning home from work late one evening. I was only a teenager then, and worked shift work in a convenience store. My shift that particualr evening ended at 11:00pm. That late, frozen December night, as I was heading home in my mother's car/boat (it was so huge), I was listening to a local radio station. Out of the blue came a breaking news announcement that a plane carrying soldiers home for Christmas went down off the coast of Newfoundland, and all sadly perished. I was devastated. One is so much more emotional around the holidays, and I could not help but weep for the families of those poor people. That Christmas, and for many a Christmas to come, during the one time of the year when life, family, and spirit truly mean something, they would grieve.

The crash did not happen until the next day.

I know there is a "script" for my life somewhere in the cosmos. I know there are things I am meant to do, and things I am meant to learn. I just wish, sometimes beyond wishing, especially when it involves great tragedy and suffering, that I could take a peek at that script. It would be nice to glance at the next chapter.

...Blessed Be