Copyrighted by Lorna Tedder. Originally published in Third Degree Curves.
Certain abilities of mine are strengthening. Like muscles being worked, so are the meditative abilities of the mind. I remember being terribly jealous of friends who could simply “see things.” I never considered myself “visual” and was occasionally denigrated for not having that ability.
A High Priestess is supposed to be the culmination of everyone’s gifts, don’t you know? And obviously, she’s not worth her mojo bag of black salt if she can’t “see,” heal, and light a candle with a mere glance. Okay…still working on the healing thing and the candle-lighting….
Interesting exercise a few nights ago. In my meditation, I got nothing but flashes. Not story-telling or an easy segue into what could as easily have been video-clips. Just a simple, directed meditation to see “who’s thinking on me this evening?” as day slipped away into night.
I wanted to make sure my meditation wasn’t intruding
on anyone else’s privacy, so I simply put the idea out there to see who would answer…with interesting results.
- It is a man who is thinking of me. He’s in a gym ora weight room, perhaps. He’s sitting on what is either a weight bench or a Nautilus-type machine and…slouching. It makes me laugh. He’s a million miles away from all the activity in the air around him. He changes positions, from one machine or bench to another, and there’s a sense of him lifting hand weights and his biceps curling. Hmmm, nice muscles, in fact. He’s distracted, and I’m on his mind. I don’t know what about me, or who he is, or what I’ve done to capture his attention, but it’s vividly in front of me. And then it’s gone.
- It is a man who is thinking of me, though the scenery is different. I don’t know if it’s the same man or where this is. I’ve never been to this place. It’s late in the day, with some sunshine left but the shadows are long and peaceful. There’s water, like a stream or a slow-moving river or a still creek. It mirrors the trees and green grass on the other side. It’s peaceful, and someone’s thinking of me and wondering if I would like this place. The answer is yes, very much. It makes me want to breathe it in and sigh. There’s a serenity here, if one cares to soak it up. I would love to spend an afternoon sit- ting here on the water, just gazing out.
- It is a man who is thinking of me. (What? Three men? At one time? Or the same one? I’m not that popular!) This man is, I believe, at home. For a few moments, there are others present but he’s not present…he’s far away and thinking of me. He’s staring across the room at the TV but not particularly interested in what’s on the screen. He gets up and moves, and sits at a computer monitor, sprawled out, slouching, drinking what I think is a beer. A bottle? He seems to flip it upward by the neck of the bottle. He’s brooding and scrolling through pages on the computer screen. I can’t tell what they are, but they’re colorful. He’s brooding, nonchalant, ambivalent…conflicted. Why is he thinking of me? Why would I have that effect on someone?
The flashes continue…some of women smiling back, women I don’t know. And I have no idea what that’s about or who the skinny woman with long blonde hair is, but her coyness is disturbing. She feels like a threat to me. I don’t like her.
But the man/men, I like very much. They’re sweet, and their thoughts on me and my effect on them? All genuine.
We pass so many people every day in our lives. Just how many do we have an effect on and never know it?
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