Talk Dirty to Me, Baby: Quantum Physics Turns Me On
Copyrighted by Lorna Tedder. Originally published in Third Degree Burn.
My computerâ€™s been in the shop all week. Hard drive crash. (Yep, did I mention how much I hate Mercury in retro- grade?) The guys Â worked about 12 hours to retrieve my data, and itâ€™ll take me probably another 12 weeks to go through the files that were saved but renamed in the process.
Even with what I thought were great backups, itâ€™s still a mess because the rancid hard drive had not backed up properly and all my tax info was missing in action. The drive is a jumble, but I think my dataâ€™s been salvaged. Iâ€™ll know in a few days at least whether the most important files are any good or if I have to start from scratch.
And yet, for as stressful as losing my hard drive has been, I can barely think about it. My mindâ€™s on quantum physics instead. Quantum physics andâ€¦him.
How does he do that?
So meanwhile, Iâ€™ve found a new place to write. I dragged out my old Mac laptop, set it up at one end of the dining table, and suddenly Â remembered how much I liked writing in this spot. The energy in the house is especially good in some spots, and this is one, where the ley lines cross.
Here, lookingÂ outÂ overÂ theÂ familyÂ portraitsÂ andÂ gold crosses Â on Â one Â wall, Â pentagram-shaped Â paper Â lights Â hanging from the other wall, the claw-footed Ouija table in the corner, the floral crown Jillian made for my 40th birthday dangling from the lamp, and the Yule ornaments hanging from the chandelier and ever so gently swaying in the air conditioning like oversized pendulums.
Beyond the dining room, I can see the Ã©tagÃ¨re of plants and Â candlesâ€”the fourth altar in my sightâ€”and beside it the Light Altar with Brigid and Lugh now facing each other and a tea light spell candle Â flickering inside the ceramic pyramid between them to remind me to expect everything and expect nothing. Yes, another quiet night at home with the kids in bed and the dog chewing on underwear in the kitchen while Iâ€™m writing.
And yet, I take a pause from writing my novel about ancient Â Black Madonna secrets to consider the ramifications of different planes Â of Â existence, of soul fragments scattered here and there and needing to be put back together, of what it must be like to walk between the worlds.
How does he do that?
A Christian Â minister Â once Â told Â me Â heâ€™d Â accidentally walked Â between the worlds, not on the astral but physically stepped into another place and time to somewhere back in what must have been the late 60â€™s because he conversed with people in the flesh who had died before 1970. I asked him how he did that, and he didnâ€™t know. It was something he couldnâ€™t control. It just happened.
â€œCan you learn to control it?â€ I asked. â€œTo call it up at will?â€
He shrugged. It hadnâ€™t happened recently. He let it be Godâ€™s will to be where God wanted him, when God wanted him, but it Â made him nervous, bouncing around in space and time.
So to find someone who can do this, well, I wish my ex hadnâ€™t gotten custody of the book I bought him on String Theory. Itâ€™s been too long since I read it. I suppose I could buy an- other copy because Iâ€™m finding physics far more interesting now than I did in my college prep high school.
If I could do thatâ€”walk between the planesâ€”where would I go? Back in time? Across the Atlantic? Or would I steal away to my would-be loverâ€™s home and see if heâ€™s okay after a
hard day? Iâ€™d think the third choice would be far more magickal and probably a hell of a lot more important to me than tinkering around in 6th-century Walesâ€¦and I love 6th-century Wales.
Iâ€™ll find out. Heâ€™ll tell me. Eventually. On one of these visits, heâ€™s asked me to wait for him, and I will.
If you can walk across space and time, then nothing is set in Â stone. And our species has more power than we ever dreamed. We have more power than we ever dreamed. Power to be who we are. Power to explore each otherâ€™s frontiers and to explore them together. Power to heal. Â Power to love. And we can changeâ€¦everything. Bring Heaven to Earth.
The pain we have seen in our visions can be transmuted. The future is not set. No children have been lost. And even if he should sit and look across the breakfast table at an empty chair one day in the distant future when I have passed over, I will still be there, walking in my own way between the worlds.
Somehow, after sliding around in a little quantum physics, a fried hard drive just seems mundane.