Winter's Tale

I was reading Mark Helprin's Winter's Tale on the train coming into Manhattan when I reached the end of the tale. The story merged time and space together in the snow-filled mythic city of Manhattan with its darkness and white lights. Those who had passion to punch through time had a pursuit that spanned through space and somehow the mechanism that produced the New York Sun had something to do with it all. The New York Sun, the popular newspaper founded in 1833 was a central part of the story. The main character, Peter Lake was The Sun's master mechanic at the turn of the 20th Century and he is there again a hundred years later bringing back life to the old press. His obsession to stop time and bring back the dead plays an important part in the story. I was thinking about The Sun when I departed the train and walked through Penn Station. I wondered what it would have been like to work there in the 1800's. Outside the station, the air was crisp, the sky was gray, and the smell of chestnuts roasting tugged at the memory of the novel I had just finished.
Ending a book is like living in a remnant of where I just left, the author's world created in my mind. I stay there for a day or two as I go about my reality.
Once I left the station, I decided to stroll through Macy's on my way to work. I longed to continue my nostalgic sense of Christmas. I passed the men's department, climbed the stairs to the heart of the store, then moved swiftly through the perfume counters with their fragrance hucksters, and swept through jewelry, making it to handbags and finally the Broadway exit. Perfect, I could see the windows. And there they were entertaining tourists and fascinating children. They were dedicated to "Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus." Macy's "Believe" theme was based on the popular front page story printed in The New York Sun in 1897. There it was right in front of my eyes, the newspaper! One of the windows showed the editor, Francis Pharcellus Church composing the piece at his desk in the office of The Sun. The remnant of Winter's Tale merged with my reality, the two worlds collided, just as it had in the book. The Sun was the connection. As I stood there mesmerized, something came back to me. I could hear my Uncle Al's voice from a Christmas Eve long ago as he recited "Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus." It was a magical night as the winds howled, and the snow fell. I am the only one left to remember that night since my family is gone. Just like in the book, they must exist somewhere, I am not that different from Peter Lake who only wants to stop time and bring back the dead. Tears filled my eyes as I studied the windows and thought of my sentimental state at 34th Street. But hey, I can give myself a break to be nostalgic, after all, I thought, "Yes, everyone, there is a Santa Claus," and at that moment a Michael Jackson impersonator passed the windows and waved to us with his white glove.

Whoo's Dat?

Michael and I attended a destination wedding in Jamaica. Long after the festivities of the reception ended, I sat outside our room on the deck to breathe in the sea air and dream. That's when I noticed the fake owl perched on the tree across from me. The owners of the establishment probably thought this would be a nice addition to their guests' experience and you know it actually worked. I sat there for the longest time trying to let my mind wonder but I felt compelled to look straight ahead and into the eyes of the creature before me. The person who carved this thing took such liberty with the proportions of the eyes. I know that owls have large eyes but these were exaggerated, a caricature of an owl. It also had unnatural colors of orange, yellow, and red. It was made of wood just like those parrots that sit on perches in novelty stores. I found myself locked in a staring contest with this inanimate object and just as I thought to quit, the damn thing flew away. I was dumbstruck!
I the fool "whoo" I was could have caught ten flies with my open mouth as I sat there realizing this was indeed a real owl and one that was watching me for a very long time. This turned out to be the best part of my trip since I have never seen an owl, not even a brown one back up in the Northeast.
Six months later when I was at Barnes & Noble shopping for Christmas presents, I stumbled upon another owl, "The Little Owl," a small white one in a box. He was my present to our home for Christmas and he sits atop our stove. I stroke his head often for good luck.
At the same time I was discovering owls so was my friend Peter. He found a vintage crystal owl pitcher that sits across from his sofa. When I visit him I find myself staring at it and making wishes. Recently Peter brought home some more owls. He put the crystal owl in the bedroom and replaced it with a lamp that has a base of three brightly carved wooden owls. These guys look exactly like my buddy back in Jamiaca. Our friend Linda asked if he got it at an "owlet." Actually it was his trip with David to Maine where they shelled out two bucks for this incredible find.
Did you know that in some cultures owls are viewed as evil? Most cultures view owls as wise. This is probably how you think of an owl. The reason owls are considered wise is that for centuries they have appeared in images of the Goddess Diana, the wise huntress. Wise through association. I get that, that's why I like to hang around smart people!
Owls may not be wise but the one I saw in Jamaica was. He actually knew that the woman sitting across from him was real.

3 Times a Lady

Why can't I control my premonitions? Why do I have to accept that my head is like a radio and I have no control over what comes through, what channel to play, or when to turn it off or turn it on. This is what I was thinking on my way to play the Mega Millions at the store on Park Avenue near my office.

Before I played the lottery, I stopped by Gregory's coffee shop to get a short dark roast with room. As I was at the counter adding milk, a very hyper lady stood next to me as she added sugar to her cup of unnecessary coffee. Brother, the last thing this woman needed was caffeine. A sedative would have been more in order. She had a raspy voice like a life-long smoker and she spoke to me about something mundane. I remember thinking that she was the kind of person that would be good on a sinking ship...rough around the edges but she would save people, you know the heart of gold who would get the job done.

I continued to my destination where I played the numbers Michael had dreamed the night before. Maybe his premonition would work. He had six numbers written down that he saw clearly in his dream about a drawing that played on television.

As I was filling out the mega millions card the same lady from the coffee shop came into this store and was standing next to me again. This time she was asking for a pack of cigarettes. She looked at me and said, "Are you following me?" I laughed and said, "you caught me."

I was walking back to the office when I thought that if I would see this woman again that meant I would win the lottery. I arrived at my building and stood outside hoping I would see her among all the passing bodies but I knew it was next to impossible. Just as I was about to push the revolving door I heard that raspy voice. I turned around and there she was standing nearby talking on her cell phone and smoking a cigarette. She recognized me and ended her phone call. She said, "you again." We introduced ourselves to each other and shook hands. Then I went into my building and she continued to walk uptown. This was a sign!

The next day I eagerly checked online to see what numbers were the winners. I had three of them, two plus the mega ball. I was excited to see what it rendered... how about a measly three dollars? I guess I could say I did win the lottery, a buck for each time I saw that lady!

It seems that most premonitions are warnings about death, illness, and disasters but once in a while it can happen that they point to financial gain. I am going to keep trying and I will let you know when it really works.

The Water Principle

I had a half-hour before the train arrived at Trenton to take me to New York. A cup of coffee would be fitting as I lounged around the station. But then I thought water would be better to drink. I found myself daydreaming and as my mind drifted I focused on the image of water. I imagined a clear pond, still and reflective. I thought of a waterfall and its hypnotic rhythm. I imagined breathing in the ionized air. How clear my thoughts were and how relaxed I became. I remembered learning from a woman who taught a class called, "Brain Gym" that water is a great neutralizer. She believed that taking a sip of water between mind exercises cleared the palette of our brains.
"Yes," I thought, "I will drink water instead of coffee!"
I got up from the bench that had become my meditative sitting area and I walked over to the Dunkin' Donuts portable cart where the bottles of water were stacked in the fridge adjacent to the hot coffee dispensers. Slowly I reached in to retrieve a bottle. Then I walked to the counter to pay for it.
"Don't I have a right to be happy?" the young woman behind the counter said as I handed her my money.
"Excuse me?" I said.
"I can be happy too, don't I deserve that?" she continued.
I hesitantly replied, "yes, of course you do," not knowing what I was saying and wondering what the hell was wrong with her.
"You don't know what I am talking about, do you? You don't know the spirit. You only think about what you have to do and where you need to be."
"You have no idea who you're talking to," I replied. "I am a very spiritual person and in fact I was just thinking about the principal of wa..."
"You don't know anything!" she exclaimed with her eyes ablaze and full of hatred.
Then she gave me my change.
I moved away in a confused state and wondered if I was witnessing someone having a nervous breakdown and soon an ambulance would come to take her away.
I stood to the side of the cart in a spot that was close enough but not too conspicuous so I could watch what she was going to say to the next customer.
When the man paid for his coffee, she said with a sweet smile, "have a good day."
I watched her with more customers and there was no hint of that previous venom I had witnessed. She was back to normal.
I've been to that cart often since that day and she waits on me without any hint of what happened between us. Sometimes I buy coffee and other times I get water. Once I gave in and bought a chocolate glazed donut. But never again will I meditate in a train station or any public place for that matter. I guess that's why the yogis tell us to sit in a quiet, safe place when we want to clear our minds.
Who knows what we could conjure up when we have our guard down?
Maybe there was "something" hanging around the Dunkin' Donuts cart that day, like a nasty spirit with a sweet tooth.

A Candle for Elaine

I returned to St. Francis Church to light another candle.  I had hoped that I was finished with lighting candles for the dead in 2009 but no, there was another to light this late October.

My sister and I parted ways in 1994 and with that I lost contact with my nephews and my brother-in-law as well. I thought of them often but lately, especially this past summer, I felt that my sister was trying to reach me.

I had a burning in my legs that my doctor attributed it to stress. I wasn't buying that it was stress. One morning I woke with the answer to my leg condition. I just knew that the burning in my legs was connected to my sister. I was sure of it. I couldn't go to work that day and I was resolute that a message was coming to me soon. The next night as I was sitting in Penn Station waiting for a train, I checked my blackberry and there was a message from one of my nephews that he was following me on twitter. Finally a break in the silence.

It had been fifteen years since there was any contact between us. I thought this was the first connection back to my sister who I was afraid may be sick. I was stunned to find out that she died twelve years ago. My reality was that she was here all through the things that have happened. She was here when we toasted the new Millennium; she was here when we were attacked on September 11th; she was here when I sobbed for Mitch our retriever, when he went to doggie heaven; she was here for my completion of my Masters Degree and she was here when I lit a simple fire in our fireplace at home in Pennsylvania once we moved from our New York apartment.
I often thought of her as I did things grand and small and I wondered what she was doing. Was she enjoying her grandchildren? The ones I imagined she must have had by now. But to find out that she did not see these things, that she was not here on earth for any of it, not even to have her own cell phone, oh, and how we could have emailed each other and had fun on facebook. Then I stopped thinking this way. I realized that I had kept her alive all these years and that was not reality at all.  How many other false realities have I created in my mind? I can't think of that now. Now I need to find a new way to think of her.

Why now? Why in 2009 did the truth rise up and grab me from the other side?
My nephews could have found me for years. I've had a website for a long time. But I think it was when I posted the picture of my mother that opened up a channel. I submitted her potato salad recipe on my friend Peter's blog "evenings with peter." I sent in a picture of her outside our house back in the 50's. I remember staring at that photo once it was uploaded and seeing her standing prominently on the internet. It was like she was alive again in a new dimension and not since 1969 had she been able to be seen. This was indeed the way my nephew found me. He was looking for his family ancestry since he had just become a Dad himself and the picture of my mother came through loud and clear. Immediately, a bridge was formed.

I sat in the pew at St. Francis and thought this is what my mother wanted. She wanted me to know the truth about my sister and she wanted my nephew to find me. The gate was open and now my sister was able to get through. I would light a candle for Elaine now that the Mass had ended. I remembered that she loved the Blessed Virgin and often prayed to her. I went to the back of the church to light a candle in the little alcove that housed the Virgin with Christ in her arms. There was a woman there who was standing very still and looking up to the ceiling. I stopped in my tracks out of respect for her privacy but then I a voice in my head said, "go in now, and kneel before the statue." I entered the space even though I did not want to intrude on the woman's solitude but she moved aside and let me kneel under the Pieta.

I prayed that I would find a new way to think of Elaine. I thought of The Spirits Book written in 1857. The book purports that the dead are on a spiritual continuum and that often they need to stay in a space to reconcile unresolved issues before they can move to another level. Maybe my sister entered another level and she or possibly her emissary was able to reach me now, not anytime before. It could be that she was in a room somewhere and it only seemed like a few days to her even though it was twelve years on earth. Then I thought "this is crap." This is something that would be nice to think so I could feel better.

How do I know what is true? 

I asked God for a sign to let me know if I should accept what I've learned from The Spirits Book, that the spiritual continuum exists and my sister has moved on. At that moment the woman in the alcove came very close to me. She leaned over my shoulder and placed her hand on the wooden bar in front of me. She stayed very still. After what felt to be an eternity, she left the alcove. I kept my eyes fixed upon the statue and when I looked down, there on the bar was a holy card of the Virgin. The Virgen de Itati. The woman had left this card for me. I accepted it as the sign to accept that my sister indeed moved on and she had reached me through the symbol of the Virgin. This is the time. This is the space. Now I can think of Elaine in a whole new way.

The holy card was in Spanish. Here is a rough translation of the prayer.
Most tender mother of God and men, under the patronage of the pure and clean Conception of Our Lady of Itati looked at with eyes of mercy for over three centuries to all who have prayed for you. Do not reject the prayers of this now your son, who humbly turns to thee. It serves my needs that your better than I know. And above all, Mother, grant me a great love of your divine son Jesus, and a pure heart, humble and wise in life, patience, fortitude in praise, temptations, and consolation in death.
So be it.

Karen and St. Francis

I posted "A Candle for Stanley" on this blog and in it I promised God I would return to Church the week following to bring the dollar I owed for the candle I lit. I also pledged that I would light a candle for the other 8 people who died in 2009.
I couldn't make it to Mass that week. Shakespeare was right, "neither a borrower nor a lender be."  One of the ShiftShape community, Karen, read the Candle for Stanley, and went to St. Francis of Assisi to hear Mass. She looked around to see if I was attending the same Mass but I wasn't there. When she came into work and told me that she felt compelled to go to St. Francis because of my blog post, and that she discovered "signs" that seemed directly related to her, I felt that writing the blog justified itself. What Karen didn't know was the disappointment I felt that I couldn't make it to Mass that week at all and I was not going to make good on my debt. She also didn't know that I prayed to God to give me a sign that it was ok that I could owe him for another week. When she told me that she decided to put an extra two bucks in the slot for me while she was lighting her own candles, I knew that was my sign. I had my answer and my debt was paid as well. I finally made it to Church and this time I put two dollars in the offering slot, one for Karen, and one for her intentions.

A Candle for Stanley

I went to Mass at St. Francis of Assisi near Penn Station to pray for the smooth transition of my friend Brian's father, Stanley.
It was fortunate for Brian that his Dad passed while Brian was here in the states. Brian came in from Brazil to tend to a legal matter and during this precise time, his father died. Stanley was ready to move on especially since his health had declined two years ago and got progressively worse. I hope he is finally with his beloved wife who died many years ago and he missed terribly. 
I was waiting to hear from Brian as to the time and place for his Dad's viewing so I kept my blackberry on not to miss the call. As I walked into the back of the Church, my phone went off. I tried to reach it quickly but it was somewhere buried in my large handbag. Fitting as it was, I don't think the congregation appreciated the playing of my ring tone, Bob Dylan's, "knock,knock,knock on heaven's door." I made a quick turn and ran out of the church. I finally found the damn thing and answered it. There was Brian on the other end with the news of when his father's viewing would be and that it would be a bit later than expected because his father's Church was having a peach festival; no time for funerals.
I could hear that Brian still had his sense of humor as he laughed about the church's reverence for peaches. I took the liberty of telling him that his call resounded throughout the church with the Bob Dylan ring tone that he knows very well. He chuckled again. Good, another chance for a break in what I feel is exaggerated piety when I speak with someone who has just lost a loved one.
That's when Brian asked me to light a candle for his Dad. I knew he was going to ask me that. As I walking to Church I thought, "I bet Brian calls me any minute now and when I tell him I am going to Mass, he will ask me to light a candle." I thought of that already, but I didn't have a God damn dollar. I am on this new budget now and I try not to have cash on me. I use my debit card only and it keeps me from buying extra things I see on the street. I told Brian that I had thought of lighting a candle but I didn't have a dollar. That's when Brian burst out laughing and then that was it. The floodgates opened and I went on about the sorry state of affairs these days and that we all need more money and now I will owe God a dollar. I never thought there was a way to actually owe God money. I was certainly good for lighting a candle since I would be back the following week and I could pay God back then. I went on to say that I could light a candle and not owe anything at all since I gave five dollars a couple of weeks ago in the offering basket. Who was I trying to fool? I couldn't negotiate with God, the offering was the offering, and the candle was the candle.
With that I ended the conversation and went into Mass with a smile on my face. During Mass I prayed for many things. First for Stanley, then for the other eight people who died this year so far. What a record year of lay-offs, endings, and deaths.  I ran out of sympathy cards I bought at Duane Reade twice already. I also prayed for more money so I could light more candles.
When I finally got around to lighting the candle for Stanley, I remembered my father and how Brian was with me at his funeral years ago. After the service, we were driving back to a friend's house and we passed a school that was having a carnival. I immediately thought of my father who ran the school carnivals. I thought it would be fitting to go to the carnival and have fun that day. Brian, Michael, and our friend Adele ate candy and went on the rides in honor of Mike, my Dad, the man with carny in his soul!

Next week when I will return to Mass I will slip a buck in the slot to pay my debt and I will bring another one to light a candle for all the rest who departed in 2009.

Michael Stiller's mother
Marino Zulich's mother
Cindy Allen's father
Xiang Xu's father
Linda Zatta's step father
Helene Oberman's father
Brian Rook's father
Rita, our young neighbor
Tony's young son

9 is the number of completion, maybe that's it for this year but there are still 3 months to go.