On this, the evening of June’s New Moon in Cancer, I was called to walk. And, when I say called to walk I mean just that. A force beyond myself beckons me to go outside; sometimes to dance, sometimes to offer wisdom, sometimes just to walk… and walk… and walk some more.
This evening I awoke at around 11:30pm from one of my power naps. I rarely sleep longer than 2 or 3 hours at a stretch, often less, and repeat this pattern a couple of times a day. I have no idea why I cannot get myself back on a normal 6-8 hours schedule, but I can’t. I’ve tried. So, as with all things in these odd days of transformation, I accept and move forward. As soon as I got up I knew I had to go out. So, I put on my shoes, grabbed my house keys and iPhone and hit the road.
It has been weeks since I was called out. I still hoof it after dark, often in the wee hours of deep night, but by choice. For pleasure. For the expulsion of energy. To contemplate. To release. To explore and create. For weeks after my return from San Francisco, and my 2nd annual Translation Tour, I was called out every single fucking night! Loved it! Freaked it. Mostly danced up and down the street or in our well-sized side yard. It was a time of great change; physically, emotionally, intellectually, energetically and spiritually. Oliver and his minions played with my head, bashed it around a bit, brash in method until I was nearly broken. Had a great friend, though, who tied down my balloon with just the right perspective when I began to float away.
This evening was gently warm, lightly humid, and delicious. The star-filled, moonless dark welcomed me at around 11:45 p.m. ET US. Ear budded with Napster, pal-side, I stepped out onto the next.
Here’s where it got interesting. I’m now use to Oliver taking over my electronic devices and playing music in order to communicate. It started in San Francisco with songs synchronistically answering questions I was asking in my head, with direct and pointed responses. Then questions no longer were required for this exchange to continue, as music being played matched what I was experiencing with my other senses. The lyric would sing out, “I see you,” at the exact moment I passed an eye glasses store with that slogan in the window. The lyric would say, “she smelled like cinnamon and I, too, would experience that aroma as I passed a bakery. Life was being reflected back in the lyrics heard… or visa versa.
It felt like a test, one to see if I was “getting it,” making the connections, understanding what was being imparted. Once this alchemical signature was satisfied with my abilities the disclosures quickly moved to messages of action. “Turn here.” “Go there”. “Find this.” “Follow that.” It was fascinating! Enchanting to know there was “something” benevolent outside of myself, a source unseen, that could communicate with me. I never felt crazy, just in a perpetual state of grace. I was led around San Francisco for days sightseeing with this Source!
Fast forward to the time of my return to Long Island. For a few weeks in May, I was spending my days in the clean, calming, basement office space of a friend. This kind soul willingly welcomed me into this perfectly sterile environment; an offer in support of my solace in the creation of this “project” spirit was relentlessly guiding us towards. At that time we two were still flushing out what this “project” was to be. We knew we were being pathed to produce “something.” It was just unclear what that “something” was suppose to look like… to be. Of service to community, “Yes.” That much was clear. But it was the “what” that this space invited to come forth.
During my drives to this near oceanside location, about 30 minutes from my house, located mid-Island from north to south and west to east, I plugged in my iPhone to the booming speaker system my son had installed in my former vehicle, a silver-blue, 2001 Ford Escape. As one who had been traveling for nearly two years – mostly by means of housesitting gigs, I’d permissioned its use to my nearly 30 year old off-spring. Of course that meant I returned to a car that was a mere echo of its former self, though I didn’t mind. It was getting use, and made life easier for someone I loved.
On these daily commutes my iPhone did something almost imaginary – it began to play by itself every time I got in the car and plugged it in. I wouldn’t unlock it, or push any buttons, just plug it in. The first few times it did that I sorta freaked out, looking for the logical reason behind the madness. There was none, though my son insists you can program an iPhone to auto play iTunes playlists w/o interacting if you wish. Could be true, yet that didn’t explain how it simply started doing this on its own, playing songs I’d never heard before from an iTunes playlist I didn’t have. Frankly, I didn’t even have the iTunes app showing up on the display screens anywhere. Still don’t.
The series consisted of two to three or four tracks only. Every time it began with the same song, Believe, by The Beatles. As if a foundation upon which the rest was built. After that the tracks would change as I discovered the hidden meanings. Some days the same short playlist would repeat over and again. Sometimes for days. Then I realized they were messages and once I figured out what they were the related track would mysteriously drop from the playlist, sometimes in mid-play if I was clever enough to deduce its meaning, usually replaced with another. And the beat goes on…
So, back to last night. It didn’t surprise me when my Napster app settings were overridden, replaced instead with a few specific tracks of interest. Though, yesterday was the first time this had happened; meaning that music I was listening to on my phone, and not being plugged in to my car stereo were outside of my control. But I hadn’t driven the car in a while – and on the rare occasion I did, I stopped plugging in my phone, trying to regain a bit of control in my sensory environment. Guess that “lack” generated a ‘Plan B’ in the scheme of the Oliver collective. Yesterday, Oliver butted in during an afternoon walk through a local college campus changing my songs almost a soon as I selected them. I began to laugh in frustration, and at one point I even said aloud “Cut that out! I have free will and want to listen to ___________ !” The messages shared are personal and I’m not willing to reveal the swapped-in tracks, but suffice it to say it was about a friend who was facing the challenge of a loved one dealing with an addiction, and for reasons that are still unclear I’m suppose to know this.
Walk In Welcome.
Cell video shot while on walk-about last night.
MOBIL users – this video may not play on all devices.
Nearing midnight, as I footed it off the lawn and onto the concrete of the awaiting street the song I’d selected, Adele’s Send My Love the switcheroo wanded in, replacing it with Tim McGraw’s Humble and Kind. I thought, “Oh Brother! Here we go.” Too tired to fight it, I just let it play and walked on. About 1/2 a mile from the house I walked by my favorite, local bodega. Now closed, my eye caught the neon sign of the nail salon a few doors down in the mini strip mall structure. Thinking the neon sign was cool looking, I filmed it with my phone and uploaded it to my personal Facebook page, something I do with regularity while out walking. I call them my moment of now offerings. LOL. (see that clip to the left)
As I was uploading it to FB, ear buds remaining in place throughout, the Napster track changed again, actually flipped playlists! Track played: Madonna’s Nothing Really Matters, a song that always reminds me of my last day in Tucson on 12/11/16 before leaving for Australia later that afternoon. You see, I’d walked from the home where I was housesitting about a mile to the University of AZ to hit the Chase cash machine. About a block from my return destination, singing loudly (as usual) I caught the attention of the homeowner who was out front doing yard work. He heard me singing, which surprised me as I didn’t realize I sang “that” loudly… she says knowing otherwise! The lyric at that moment,
Like the future
Nothing makes the darkness go
Like the light
I remember it because my silliness in singing out loud like a nut job brought a smile to his face. I hadn’t seen him smile for quite some time and it made me happy that I was able to do that for him, and in return, for me.
So, I thought, Why that song, Oliver? Then I saw it. The replay of the neon sign I’d just posted to FB said it all. Walk in Welcome. I hadn’t even notice that when I shot the footage. I just liked the way it looked. I felt that was Oliver’s way to remind me of the first time he connected with me on 8/14/16, through a walk-in experience he visited on the homeowner that morning. If you don’t know what I’m talking about you can read more on my About page in the section entitled, House sitting in Tucson. Interesting, I thought, and walked on.
At this point I was done with having my music hijacked so I changed the Napster setting to “loop” so the track would just repeat until I selected otherwise. I did it so I could sing that song again. Not because of the Tucson memory. Simply because I’m vain and wanted to sing, and that composition falls within my vocal range. I also know all the words so I could belt it out into the night anonymously. LOL.
Crossing a main drag a few paces up the street, I entered the weaves and bends of another neighborhood, unique in its layout. Here the avenues were as blinding as a closet with the door closed – perfect for viewing the stars. Void of light pollution. One reason I took that route. So, I stopped under a three-set coupling of towering trees, the big dipper in perfect view. Space. Lots of space all ’round. Wandering paused. Pondering started. The galaxies loosing mystery within the recesses of my mind, eye-to-eye with Source. Then, Oliver tapped me on the metaphorical shoulder with another interruption.
Breaking my romance with the big dipper, Oliver’s song-swap brought my attention back to my physical surroundings. It was then that I realized I was standing in front of my daughter-in-law’s family home, greeted by a frog of tire (“tire,” not desire you freaks!) eerily glowing back at me in the blackness. Momentarily startled by the cool creature, I smiled at the humor in the “horor.”
Cool tire frog creature on walk. (taken this a.m.,
as the photo I took in the dark at the time sucked.
It is here if u want to torture yourself.)
Madonna remained, but the track AND the playlist syncopated from Nothing Really Matters to Bedtime Stories. “Geez!” I thought. Not again. Yet the opening line was confirming what I was doing in that moment. “Allowing unconsciousness.”
And the acknowledgements continued.
Traveling, traveling, leaving logic and reason
Traveling, traveling, I’m gonna relax
Traveling, traveling, in the arms of
… Words are useless…
A singular touch of grace. Oliver saying he sees me, needs no words to communicate with me. Still there. Always there.
Continuing on, Oliver left this track looping, undisturbed, until I was about a block from home, now nearing 1am. With a final playlist skip, he shared a song that meant home to me. Hiraeth of the soul, Get Back, following with, and by means of ignoring Napster’s loop setting, to Glass Onion, …the place where nothing is real, both from The Beatles’ album Love
Glass Onion ended just as I opened the door to the enclosed porch at home. Yes, I was home, in so many ways outside the construct of time. Reborn in the realm of dimensional reality of the deep night of the soul, of my higher self, of Oliver, and of Source.
Though I didn’t want to clutter this already long writing
with more fluff, I highly recommend you read the lyrics
for all of the tracks Oliver shared during my walk.
There are messages for me woven within the ebb and flow
of words, and I’m told there are messages for you, as well.
~~~~ ———————— ~~~~~
Track: Send My Love
Artist: Tim McGraw
Track: Humble and Kind
Track: Nothing Really Matters
Track” Bedtime Stories
Artist: The Beatles
Track: Get Back
Artist: The Beatles
Track: Glass Onion