On The Bridge Across Forever, I Took The Service Road

[Guest guest]

Speaking from experience is one thing. Bringing another into our own

experience, well, that is something else entirely. We have these

experiences inside of us, always there, always somehow a part of us. A

good many of them remain buried there, even from ourselves, as much as

possible.

Even those close to us, that we come to trust, we don't always reveal

some of the details of the darker experiences. We find it hard to look

at them, and we can not understand how revealing such things could

possibly help us. We fear judgments...we fear ourselves...for who judges

more harshly than ourselves?

I have my own things I'd rather keep where they are. I like better the

me I have become, am becoming in this journey. I think we are beginning

to find that to be true. I am also seeing that it makes no difference

what kind of life someone has had, how well things may have been for

them, if they have never experienced many of the things others have, or

found themselves having somehow experienced just about everything that

can be experienced...all have a deeper part of themselves that they

wished was not there, something they would liked to have been different.

If you just happen to be one whose life has been absolute perfection,

without experience of anything that wasn't absolute love, I must commend

you, and bow gracefully...for I would have stumbled upon an angel. I

would have stumbled upon absolute perfection and beauty, something we

all are working to move towards. If this is you...then I listen humbly

for the deeper secrets of the universe....you are here to teach that,

are you not?

Until you step forward so that I may fully become aware...I must go with

what I learn and experience, in the many ways that it comes. And so far,

very much of that has come out of less than loving experiences. I think,

for most, this is true...and we have decided that, we will choose the

better feelings...the better way...the refined experiences. For we are

never who we were before, with each passing moment we become

refined...re-molded.

As the cells in our body die off, they are replaced by new ones, new

life...a new us. Memory is retained in the cells. It is with love that

we can change a cells structure and make up...it is how " miracles " seem

to happen, because love and light is brought to bare on the memory

embedded in the cells...and they are transformed. A memory dictates to

the cell what it must be and become. Until we over ride the command, and

the memory...and give it a new thought.

Want to cure someone of cancer? Literally, send loving thoughts into

that cell, or group of cells...by thought. Send it new commands...focus

intent into the effected area. In religious circles they talk of faith

in a thing being so...this is the same...we love, by thought, we inject

it...we change it, and we know that it will be so. We see it as already

whole and healthy.

Having faith is one thing...believing in what is not yet seen...but the

next step is KNOWING. You refuse to dis-empower a thought by believing

anything other than the truth of the matter...you have faith in the

outcome...but you do so with such spirit that YOU KNOW IT. This is part

of what's meant, " to know thyself " . If you truly would believe in just

how powerful you are...you would know...absolutely....and that is

something you can have faith in.

This was suppose to be a revealing of sorts, and I'm already off track

again. I have always found it may be difficult to speak or write on many

subjects, because, honestly, for anyone to come to an understanding of

what I'm referring to, I needed to point to the sources of

information...how I came to certain conclusions...the experiences

backing many of them...in what order did I believe one thing, and then

another. I just couldn't spill something, regardless of what it was,

without paving the way. Then I'd get lost in circles of explaining each

segment...and that was confusing to me, little on others.

I still do it, but, I'm getting a little better at keeping close...it

takes work...lots of it.

So I try to explain in normal, simple, conversation, and then let it

take it's own path...and I never really know where it leads me. It seems

that maybe the universe decides how it should flow, and to whom...maybe

just to me.

That's why I repeat the sentence... " take what you like, and leave the

rest " . Use what you can, let another take what they may...maybe it's

never meant to be for only one. I think maybe that's more of the case.

I have died many many times...

I'm not talking past lives, I'm talking this one. I have come to deaths

door more times than I can remember, and I have sat here and tried to

list many of them. A good many of

those..................................I choose to have it end.

Why would anyone decide " enough was enough " ? How much pain does it take

for that to become a possibility? What gives anyone the right to come to

such a conclusion?

I can't really recall all the times, and I do remember there were many,

as a child, of those things, you could only call miracles, that

happened, and kept us kids safe, just beyond something harmful that

would have happened. We believed we were under " God's Protection " of

course, and in truth in a way. Being the case, we must have worn out a

good share of guardian angels.

Most of these won't be in any certain order time wise, but I'll do my

best. I remember several times in my hitch-hiking to and from school and

work, in my high school years, of having guns pulled on me...somehow, it

always ended up as a drunks joke and it was laughed off, and I made it

home ok. I don't think I ever gave it a lot of thought...not till much

later on anyway. I wasn't a naive kid, even if i was someways sheltered

growing up, to the exclusion of the religion I grew up in...where " we

were the one true religion " , and we had better be ready " when the end

came " , as it would be our only protection...lots of fear in that kind of

life...but having a gun pulled on me didn't seem to bother me. it must

have...maybe I had already built up a certain barrier, amour, against

the world. After all, for years we had stood still for

beatings...without tears, because crying always was a reason for another

whipping. If " spare the rod spoil the child " was the way....it can never

be said I was spoiled.

Maybe, just maybe, as brutal and non-human as that was...it did give me

a survival instinct that has saved my life many times. I could, somehow,

read most people, instantly. Not that you always follow those when other

things are going on...or your depressed, or dead tired.

Another time, I was driving my car, a '66 Chevy Chevelle...oh man, what

a car...I loved that little thing... I was making a left hand turn, and

had on coming traffic. It was at the bottom of a hill, and then I hear

something like a demon coming out of hell, tires screeching...a car

having just topped the hill, moving fast. I was maybe an eighth of a

mile away when he locked up the car, but only mere seconds were

involved...no sooner than I glanced in my rear view mirror, moved my

foot from brake to accelerator to move out of the way fast...he hit me.

The police report showed later that at the time of impact, he was in

excess of 68 miles an hour...and I was at a dead stop. He was driving a

small little Celica.

I got out, after having braced for what I knew was going to be bad,

completely unharmed. looking at my car, i didn't see how. The entire

rear end had been curled up under the car, around the wheels, still

fully inflated, and sitting on the trunk...as if the trunk had been made

like that. For a car with that much steel...that took some doing. But

then I was noticing the guy in the other car...shaken to be sure...but

not a scratch. Even his car was ok, he was able to drive away...with on

a loose radiator. He should have been through the windshield and half

way up the road. The police that showed up thought we both were just

witnesses, and could not believe we were the ones involved.

There were many other such accidents, maybe they will come back to me as

i write.

I remember a time in Abilene, Texas. I was there with my first wife,

staying in a little motel, as i was doing high rise construction work on

the 23 story bank building there. I had went across the street to a

super store there, and was just coming back across...I notice

everything, I always have...and this was no different. The road was

clear, a four-lane with a turn lane in the middle. I had just about

reached the turn lane, still checking traffic in all directions,

everything fine, and kept walking. About then, I hear this, what sounds

like a crash, screaming tires coming to a halt, and I

looked.....around....and down....at my thigh and leg, which someone had

decided to park their bumper against.

There was no more pressure than if I had deliberately pushed my leg

against the car. I looked down, then at the driver, who was white as a

ghost. My first reaction was something like " what the hell " ?...My

second, was to see if the guy was ok. He looked more torn up over it

than I was. it turns out, he had never took his foot off the gas

petal...he never saw me, and was coming from across the street, rushing

to get across the road before cars came along. He swears the car just

locked up, and he asked me was the girl ok....what girl...he says he saw

a girl with me. I'm thinking like " shut up " ...this get back to my wife

and she's going to come unglued...lol...what girl. He finally got

himself together and went on, as did I, never mentioning it again...till

now.

I remember a time hitch-hiking, somewhere outside L.A., heading towards

palm Springs, on my way back to the south east. I was tired, dead tire.

I had wasted a few days at one exit and truck stop...just couldn't pick

up a ride...it's the middle of no where, out of money, hadn't slept in

forever, and it was damned cold at night, surviving in a bathroom under

the blow dryer to get heat, sleeping with one eye open, acting like I

belonged when a trucker would walk through.

I had enough and if I had to walk all the way to the next exit, over 200

miles away, so be it. You don't turn down a lot of rides in that kind of

situation...I took the first one. This guy was so strung out on coke

that he was trippin' big...he needed to get to Phoenix, and could get me

that far. Kewl...better than I thought, and, well, at 90 miles an hour,

that wouldn't take long....maybe it was just the warm car...but I was

soon fast asleep. One thing I normally would not do in such a

circumstance.

It must have been an hour, and I woke to a hand on my leg, moving to my

crotch, I think it was the " squeeze " that jolted me awake...and how my

hand already knew about the glass coke bottle under the seat, I'm not

sure, but i gave him one choice, let me out NOW, or die at 100 miles an

hour, I didn't much care which. He had that car at a stand still in 2

seconds...I looked at him, threw the bottle in the floorboard, and

simply said, " I think I can handle it from here " . Very calm huh? And i

was for about the first mile i was walking, and suddenly burst out

laughing and maybe even crying at the same time....even then, I think I

had the passing though, someday....someday, this is going to be a

book...someday, I'll laugh about all this stuff.

I was sitting in a car in Denver, having just quit my job, didn't want

to go " home " just yet...having trouble in my relationship already, this

was going to really spin it out of control...I knew that. Here I was

sitting behind a diner/motel, just off the interstate @ I-25...about 3

in the morning. I figured, smoke a few cigarettes, and lay down till

dawn...I'd worry with everything then. Just about that time, I notice

this guy crossing the back fence. I had the window cracked just a bit,

as it was cold outside, and i was blowing smoke. I keep noticing him, as

he slowly moves closer, somehow knowing he was coming my way, to me.

Something about the way he was walking, or looking

around...something....and as he got to the car window, trying to motion

for me to let the window down, moving a hand to his mouth as in asking

for an extra smoke...something didn't feel right, as his other hand was

slowly coming out of his pocket, little by little.

And just as I was moving my hand to the handle, not to let the window

down, but to shove the door open with all the force i could, as i began

to see the handle of the gun start to come out, he tensed up, as a

police cruiser slowly came around back and parked, so they could go in

to eat...all at the same time, this guy moving back, turning around, and

walking away. I sat there, almost unmoved by the whole thing, as if,

maybe, I didn't expect any other outcome to such a thing...I let it go,

again, till now.

I've already mentioned in a few stories back, about the woman and her

kids in the car coming into L.A., and wondering about what would have

happened had I not been there at the time.

There's a lot more of these, but will leave them for now...this has

grown longer than I intended.

I started out about how this was a revealing into me deciding about my

life...see how things just jump up and decide differently, and take

their own way? I'll get to that in the next edition of this...maybe this

part needed to come first.

Maybe it has a deeper meaning, in that, for those needing to, that

writing about things, can lead to a deeper knowing of ourselves, and a

remembering. All of us have deeper stories to tell...this may well be

the one place it's ok to go exploring those deeper parts...to come to a

remembering of them, and to share them.

I use to think, " how boring " , who, in their right minds, would want to

hear such crap...As far as I was concerned, it was a pretty much boring

life, with lots and lots of mistakes. I'm beginning to think now, they

were experiences designed to be written, at a later time, so that,

maybe, it would be helpful to others to see, that their own lives are

never what we believed them to be....it is much more....you are much

more.

With Love,

D~