Belly of a Star

my practice of compassion


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Lost Where I Was (Seeing the future)

I had a wild experience happen. There is no other way to describe it. And the event has stayed with me for two days now. My dreams at night continue to be primarily filled with love, hope, and numerous heart-filled lessons and journeys. My waking days are what I would call ‘uncomfortable,’ as this burning passion fills my every moment. I tried to paint today, to no avail. Except, the emotions came out in all types of patterns, and swirls, and mixture of colors. I am not done with the piece, and that can be unsettling, spurring in me the same unsettledness of my own incompleteness. I have had a marinade of thoughts, simmered in a chutney-sweetness. I am craving to find more of my own self; a self that seems to drift easily enough with each passing day.

I had the adventure of attending an amusement park during our recent visit to California. Not my favorite of places; mostly, because the people there have massive amounts of scattered energy. In large energetically stirred crowds, I am left rather discombobulated—lost within the raging waves of emotions. I am also extremely sensitive to sights, sounds, textures, and smells. A place of tailspin rides and not so tame eateries leaves me in overload. Nonetheless, I took advantage of the sunshine and some french-fries, and purely enjoyed my sons’ smiles. I felt fed, no doubt.

Towards the end of the day, on the very last ride my youngest son chose, I witnessed a dynamic occurrence, something that I am still trying to understand in greater depth. Something I likely will never understand, unless the ‘skill’ advances or the sequential manual is drifted down to this plane of existence.

At the amusement park, I watched as my son and my niece climbed aboard a swing ride. The park ride was shaped in a circle with long lines of wire extending down from the thick metal center. Multiple swings were set in a circle. The ride lifts the attendees high into the air, some few stories high, and then the seats spin around at full speed. Pure dizziness as far as I am concerned.

I observed as my youngest son and my niece climbed onto the bench on the far left, buckled in and then were lifted into the air. I watched carefully as they rose up higher and higher, thinking on the gravity of the mechanism, and on the young children that were very brave to ride. Soon they were at the highest setting, spinning in elation. I watched the first turn around; and then my son and niece disappeared.

I couldn’t find them. I looked at all the children, all the faces, and my son was gone. My child and my niece vanished. I motioned to my husband, my finger set high and pointing up, “Where are they? Where did they go? They were there, and now they are not? How could they have disappeared? I don’t see them? Do you see them? They were right there?” My husband and two sons looked up. No one could see them.

Soon my middle-son said, “Mom, they are still in line! They haven’t gone on yet.” He shook his head at me.

I was shocked. “That’s impossible,” I countered. “They were there. It was them. I am certain.”

I couldn’t believe it. I looked again, and shook my head. “No,” I said adamantly, “They were there. I saw them go on. I saw them go up. They were right there. I know they were. I saw them.”

“They are in line, Mom. Look,” my middle-son insisted.

Sure enough they were in line. My husband, in logic mode, and in seeing my exasperation and dead-serious expression, asked, “Well, where did you see them sit? Where did you see them sit? Tell me where they were seated.”

I didn’t hesitate. I knew exactly where they had been when I’d watched them load onto the ride. “Right there!” I said, pointing to the far left with such confidence that I surprised myself. “Right where the ride-attendant is!”

I had witnessed the event as sure as I was witnessing my husband asking me.

“Right there, right where the worker in the blue is standing. They got on at that spot. I know they did,” I repeated.

I had a split second to analyze my thoughts. I’d spoken with such confidence. But what if I was wrong? What if I’d slipped into some state of craziness? But the doubt didn’t linger. It couldn’t. It just couldn’t. I knew what I had seen; had never been so certain. It was as if someone had brought me back from a place I’d just been; and in doing so highlighted the place I was removed from. I was certain beyond reason and understanding. More certain than the belief in the actual place I existed.

Within seconds, we watched as my son and my niece left the line and made their way full-sprint to the ride. My husband counted that there were at least fourteen or fifteen options of paired-swings in which the children could choose to sit. My son didn’t hesitate and went straight to the spot I had insisted they had already been. They loaded in and buckled up. My husband shook his head in disbelief.

And we watched as they rose into the air.

I’ve had precognitive dreams my entire life, and intuitions, hunches, even foreshadowing of events to be. Lately, I am seeing images in my environment or quotes from others directly related to what I have written about or experienced. I am creating spiritual prose and then later finding confirmation in texts or others’ words.

In retelling this event, I can’t explain how I saw the future and then returned to the past. In fact, in truth, it doesn’t feel like I saw the future; it feels like I was brought back from where I was supposed to naturally be on the time line, not brought forward from a finite point, but rewound… almost as if I lost where I was.

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