The Man-House Meditation…Part III
Copyrighted by Lorna Tedder. Originally published in Third Degree Curves.
Itâ€™s been about six weeks since my meditative Â work took me into the metaphysical Â houses Â of two different men. I didnâ€™t call them to me…they called me to them, and there I was, without warning.
This night, I unexpectedly Â find myself in one of the metaphysical houses again, and this time it is busier than Iâ€™ve ever seen it.
The house is the same as I remember on the last two or three times I was there. Not too large. Something of a cottage or small house, actually, and with a strong mother influence.Â The Â first Â times Â there, Iâ€™d Â comeÂ through Â the front door and been impressed by his officeâ€”his workâ€” and all the people there in need of his services.
The last time there, Iâ€™d come in through a side door and wandered about, looking at the quieter corners while he wasnâ€™t home and talking with his mother. The bustle was elsewhere but I kept to the more secretive rooms.
This time, I arrive at his house and see it from the front as I did the first time. The grass is green and well- kept, Â clean-cut Â andÂ Â professional. Â The Â house Â is Â in Â a neighborhood, all at once a quiet, reflective place and still at the center of activity. There are other houses Â nearby, yet some sense of separation,Â as though itâ€™s on a cul-de- sac. Cars are parked along the street. Buses, too. This is a busy place indeed!
I donâ€™t enter the back way or through the front door, the front door leading directly to a reception area where he and his staff work. Someone farther inside the house is where he sleeps, Â when he sleeps, Â and where Â he Â retires from the bustle of visitors and clients to be alone, except when his mother is present to tidy up his messes and en- tertain unexpected guests in his absence.
This time, I enter through a door to the left, a door that goes direct into the reception area where many, many people are waiting.
There must be 50 or maybe even 75 people here to see him, some to demand his services and others to plead for them, but all here for him, for his work.
The girls are with me. So is their friend Brian. We wait patiently for a Â while before we realize that we wonâ€™t be able to talk to him today. He is too busy with his clients, and they need him today, far more than we do. We could demandÂ his Â attention, Â march Â past Â the Â receptionist Â and asked to speak to him between clients, but I know that he must focus on his work today.
The girls Â and Â Brian Â wander Â around, Â chat Â with Â the other people Â there, and I find a comfortable seat in the corner. A woman sits next to Â me and tells me that she will wait as long as she needs to if she can see this man and receive his special gifts.
Iâ€™m embarrassed because Iâ€™m not here for gifts of that type. I think Iâ€™m here to give something to him, but heâ€™s not available yet and the lines are long.
Other women and their families sit close to me, and they begin to talk to me about what they like about him and what a blessing his talents are to them.
Another bus Â pulls Â up Â in Â front Â of Â the Â house. Â More work to be done. More people who need his attention.
I smile to myself. I can hear him in the next room, at work. I canâ€™t see him through the open door, but I hear his advice Â to a client and see Â them Â leave, Â relieved Â and smiling. His work is special, more than he realizes. On the other side of the wall, he doesnâ€™t see how he effects these people. He really does not know.
But my bus is leaving and I gather the girls and their friends and Â usher Â them Â outside. Â I Â look Â back Â over Â my shoulder and Â catch a glimpse of him through the open door. Heâ€™s completely captivated by his work, listening to every word of the person seeking his help.
He doesnâ€™t see me, but itâ€™s okay. Heâ€™s doing what heâ€™s supposed to Â be Â doing right now, and heâ€™s too busy to know that I can see him there. Thereâ€™s no time to think about the quieter rooms in his house Â right Â now, or the empty ones. Â He is bustling Â and busy, Â and he is doing good.
I leave, sad for not demanding my opportunity to say hello, but smiling for what Iâ€™ve seen. He should be proud of his work.