Clear Seeing, Clear Knowing

May 11, 2010

So I’m at the library this morning and my mobile phone rings – it’s the receptionist from the Community Dentist informing me that due to a family emergency, my appointment tomorrow will have to be rescheduled.

I’ve been on the waiting list for 20 months for this appointment to have some fillings.

I know all about family emergencies.

Last week I checked my budget and vacillitated about rescheduling this dental appointment, yet chose not too: get it over and done with before my teeth started aching and, besides, the electricity bill can wait.

When I told the receptionist that I almost rescheduled last week, she said: You must be clairvoyant!

Yes, I am.  I replied while wondering when I was going to start really, really trusting my intuition and not assigning it a negative vibe such as – oh, I dunno – apathy, procrastination, just the old I-can’t-afford-this-right-now-so-I’ll-cancel/postpone/do without.

Clearly my “1000 invisible helping hands” do not want me to do without; they do not want me to keep standing in the hallway; and they really really would like me to quit with the self-negation of my intuitive abilities.

On January 11 of  this year, my cousin’s son died from Sudden Unexpected Death in Epilepsy, two months shy of his 21st birthday, which was on 29 March – the same day my home computer caught a virus.


Take a read of my blog post from January 11th, Accepting Grace, Fully.

“You choose,” she says to me. “You choose which one you draw out.” She spreads out the three threads in my left hand and I hold them tightly.

The moon comes out from behind the cloud. It is a waning moon, fat and silvery; it draws a line of light along the dark water, and I choose one thread and hold it in my right hand. “This one.”

“Are you sure?”


At once she takes a pair of silver scissors from her pocket and cuts the other two threads so whatever was tied on is swept away into the dark waters.

“What were they?”

“They are the things that will never happen; they are the future that we will never know. They are the children who will not be born and the chances that we won’t take and the luck that we won’t have,” she says. “They are gone. They are lost to you. See instead what you have chosen.”

Loss that does not diminish.

%d bloggers like this: