Correcting Missteps and Dodging Darkness

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November 8, 2023- I was told, flat-out, a few times yesterday, that if I knew what was good for me, I would follow the instructions about my own life that the stern-faced woman was randomly tossing out. Hmmmm- Where have I heard this before? What happened when I stuck to my own path? What further transpired, when I cut off contact with the previous angry personage? In each case, there was suffering- a slight injury, a job loss and a car accident, all of which happened to take place in the presence of a short, stern-faced woman, similar to the one who was warning me to toe the line, this time.

There is much that we don’t know about energy fields, and while I hardly believe that shape-shifting is actually a thing, it does seem strange that misfortunes in my life always are witnessed by a short, stout, angry middle-aged woman of narcissistic temperament. Nothing awful happened to me on the way home, yesterday, and while I made a foolish decision to unnecessarily yield at the end of an off-ramp, this morning, there was no consequence, other than a blared horn. I had, though, written down the wrong school at which to report.

Twenty minutes later, I was at the correct school, with the assigned students-enjoying a Veterans Day tribute. We went on to make progress on the kids’ science projects and math assignment. There have been, so far, no “dire consequences” for my not following “instructions”.

What to get from yesterday’s exchange? As the days, months and years roll on, what I need for my own well-being is to take more time to do things even more carefully, write appointments down in more than one place and give myself more time to get places, and more time in between events and activities. The angry narcissist who wants to save me from God knows what, will just need to find a different focus for her energies.

The Reluctant Conspirator

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April 7, 2021- I have been given a strange and whimsical mantle: Conspirator. This came this morning, after expressing my humble opinion that, after death, one enters a different state of being. One of the others in the coffee house stated, matter-of-factly, that our afterlife is another shot at being human, on planet Earth, and that any argument to the contrary is an attempt to rid us of our earthly freedom. To that individual, there is nothing else in the Universe, but the creatures of Earth. I am, therefore, trying to obfuscate and distract freedom-loving Americans.

Hmmm. Perhaps next will come the claim that non-English speakers are destined to be reincarnated-as English-speaking Americans. We have gone half circle, it seems-as there was once a time when belief in reincarnation was anathema to political conservatives. At any rate, once the honour of being a conspirator was foisted upon me, I did what any craven oppressor would do- quietly went back to my crossword puzzle and half-empty cup of joe.

The ruckus continued, across the room, as the ruffled feathers continued to rant-about everything from chemtrails to The Virus. I’d like there to be a good deal less air pollution, and IF there is spray being sent us, to dumb down the masses, or IF the virus and its attendant vaccines are part of the Master Plan, well I’m opposed to such deviousness, in all its forms.

We are, however, put here to develop our spiritual qualities-not to hand off responsibility for our growth to someone else, either by giving it over, or by blamecasting. If any of the conspiracy theories are proven true, I will resist control from above. Come to think of it, I will resist control from any direction. I was given a brain for a reason.

Quick, Not Dead

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May 25, 2017, Prescott-

The verdict came, this afternoon.

As I expected, the complex position,

with multiple  and conflicting levels of supervision,

was judged not a good fit for me.

I will most likely work with teens, next academic year.

Adolescents have indeed been a better fit for me, over the years,

whenever discipline was part of the job.

Reason is important to me,

and I see childhood as not a time

for confusion or conflicting expectations.

Teens can reason with the unreasonable;

so can I, when they are unreasonable, themselves.

We will come upon a time,

when the children we call “indigo”

will have more on their plates,

decision-wise,

than their still forming minds

can handle.

For now, though,

whoever takes my place,

with the little ones,

will need to temper

the skill set of external control,

with a truly loving heart.

As for me, I am among the quickened.

No one in the head office wants me

professionally dead.

I will go on working.