The Spirits We Encounter

If you have been following the evolution of my thinking for a long time, you will know that I have had experiences that make me think that I was at a certain place in a previous lifetime. Well, it comes to me that there may a different source of these feelings.

If a being dies after having established his permanency, it could be that he remains as a disembodied spirit. As such he may be sans senses, IOW unable to see, hear, taste, smell or touch but at the same time can be aware of what is going on. Much like watching a movie, without senses he is missing the full sensation of what it “feels” like to be alive except for his memories of same that are frozen in the last lifetime he had. So, he’s out there, hanging around; I say that because there is no clue as to what he is doing in his perfected existence, and along comes a kindred being, alive and sensible, who can be used for a few moments to get the latest on how it “feels” to be in this place again.

Some of my experiences could be considered intrusions. IOW, while in the kitchen of the chateau in Chantilly when I experienced the heat of the stove even though it had been cold for more than 100 years. Was it that a spirit, who was hanging around the chateau kitchen, took the opportunity to enjoy the sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and feelings at that instance using my senses to do so? The same thing can be said for the experience on the Great North Road in Doncaster environs, or on Maui, or in Houston, or in almost every place I’ve been including old neighborhoods here in Louisville.

This is not to say that recurrence doesn’t occur, this phenomenon could be in addition to recurrence. These bodies, in which we live, may not be single purpose machines but able to be used for any and all types of activities. It’s as if a roaming spirit asks if he can drive the bus for a few moments.

Unfortunately the intrusion may possibly become inhabitation that could lead to all sorts of results, results that could be judged by current morals and ethics to be incredibly good or terribly evil. Perhaps it is the quality of the brain-body that draws to it the spirit who would inhabit and use it as his own. That would mean some sort of contest may have to be made with the currently developing being moving aside to allow the unfulfilled one to take over. There are stories about this sort of thing, where one sells his soul. Could this be an interpretation of the parable where it is said, “What good does it do a man to gain the world but lose his soul?”

It leads me to at least one conclusion, a requirement to disallow dislocation and re-inhabitation. I feel that I am a developing being, the current day product of who knows how many previous lifetimes. One who is interested in developing as far as possible in this one and then doing it again and again until the realization is achieved that it has gone as far as it can.

So much for that line of thinking; there is another thought that has been intruding on my peace of mind of late. I’ll set it up. There is a continuing round of good luck going on for me that is extraordinary. Not that we’ve won the lottery or anything big like that, but little things that make life pleasant and even fun. Things turn out beautifully so many times due to coincidences that are inexplicable. I’ll list a few later but won’t describe them in too much detail because it would be impolite but take my word for it; there have been instances where my good fortune has been a joy.

It makes me wonder if Mom isn’t somehow around us and sending good fortune our way. I know that sounds kooky but it is has been happening more and more lately and, hey, I’m not complaining. Just as the victims of terrible wrong sometimes hang around and get their vengeance, so too it may be that rewards for good come from those who benefitted from good treatment.

I remember one instance last summer when I was making my called shot on the eight ball to win the game and the match for the playoffs. The whole team was silently screaming at me not to put lower left hand English on the cue ball but I mistakenly thought that was the right thing to do. I made the eight ball, and the cue ball, as a result of the physics of billiards, naturally rolled to the near side pocket. But it stopped a quarter of an inch from the opening and remained on the table. One of my mates even said, “That was your mom.”

Maybe it was, maybe not and that’s only one small, insignificant example of the many good little things that have come my way since last August. Another, this year I drew the queen of spades for $320 at the Rotary Club meeting. Another, the favorable change in riding instructors that occurred shortly after I restarted my lessons; and just today, I said I’d like to have a deli style slicer. I wheeled around to EBay and there was one ending in 19 minutes, I bid and got it. If I sat here a while I could list more than a hundred of them, all of little consequence other than making our lives more pleasant. I can only say, “Dear Mom, stay as long as you like.”

A conclusion that doesn’t make a lot of sense, other than it fits the circumstances of the experiences described by these two disparate ramblings; it could be that spirits are tied to their location of death for a while. There is no way of telling for how long and it may be individually determined. I recall “seeing” a group of grisly veterans hanging around a roadside cemetery in France. The experiences of Chantilly, Doncaster, Maui, and the host of other places always take place at or near the location. Mom died here.

You Are Good Enough

There is an item of self-talk that has caused much difficulty and it was finally isolated and identified recently. The message heard over and over is, “You’re not good enough.” This was mistaken at one time as not being worthy but that isn’t the case. It has little to do with self esteem, another mistaken identity upon which much time was spent working. It has little to do with activity, action, or accomplishment. It is an emotional response that is usually in evidence when attempting something new and different—after the first time. There have been so many instances where the first attempt was above average but then this voice started between the first and follow-on attempts and sabotaged the activity. It is as if some perfect ideal is imagined and then cannot be achieved.

It may be the reason why I spend so much time preparing for s.t. I have not been able to quiet this voice, this feeling, except through overdoing preparation. There are many instances of this, especially when in new and strange surroundings. In fact, often my prepared material is way off base but it is complete, it is thorough, it passes the weight test. In hindsight I can see where this motto has caused me to take an overly idealistic course of action and find out later that it was inappropriate or even wasted effort. Often these were instances when I either didn’t or couldn’t get good advice from others in the know.

It is in evidence as the first opinion of an effort as poor, be it a sketch, poem, story, presentation, or portrayal which later changes from unsatisfactory to “that was pretty good.” I have picked up sketches just a few hours after completion, which upon completion I thought to be terrible, only to be impressed by them.

I don’t know the genesis of this mantra. It may have been impressed upon me at an early age and/or may well be the result of a lot of small experiences that reinforced this feeling. It is certain that my cynical, harsh judge is often behind it. He holds up perfect ideals and castigates me for not being perfect. The remedy is rationality, objectivity, common sense, and association with people who are genuinely objective in their opinions of others.

This last group is hard to identify, especially with the experience of hearing back biting insults that are often spoken when the subject is not present. I always project that these same things are being said about me in my absence. In fact, most of the time my absence isn’t even noticed, IOW out of sight out of mind. I have almost lost my sensitivity to the opinion of others so the need for reinforcement and acceptance is not as strong as it once was.

The truth of the matter is that I am not all that great at just about everything. I developed the ability to talk a good game due to the profession I chose, i.e. business management. And it was usually the business of others; at a level where I didn’t have to do much of anything, except conceptualize what needed to be done and then make sure that it was accomplished. My vanity grew to the point where I supposed my game to be as good as my talk. It has taken years to recognize this and it was even true up to the recent past few years. Then there came the time when the structure of accomplishment became evident to me, i.e. the Knowledge, Skill, Value, Medals, Awards model, and I became aware that I had just a few skills that were only borderline good and only one of some commercial value.

The vanity that drove me to over achieve and impress my peers and observers is finally abating. This is a good thing because the need to excel coupled with the inability to do so is devastating. The pressure to perform is only now easing to the point where I am not involved in self-flagellation whenever I see my efforts fall short of expectation. It is bad enough to fall short of my own expectations but even worse to think that the expectations of others aren’t met. Imagining the expectations of others to be beyond the scope of my capabilities has led to a few heroic results and to disastrous results at most others. Unmet expectations are the root of the frustrations one feels playing golf; they are likewise frustrating whenever unmet for any endeavor but at golf you can’t get away from it, you have to walk up to the ball and attempt to hit it accurately again.

So, there was conditioning that led to this development from early on, reinforced by being a professional manager in a large organization of similar managers for a whole career/lifetime (31 years); this culminated in (1) being forced out of one organization, (2) joining another that had an impossible business model, and (3) surfing that wave all the way to the beach; a ride that lasted 10 years and then petered out. That’s the major league syndrome, where very few people are good enough to be the stars of their profession.

The realization that I am in fact good enough to enjoy a variety of activities and comfortable at not being a star is finally settling in. I am good enough just as I am. I’ve done many good and wonderful things, very few of them perfectly, and will continue without the goal of perfection, adulation, or fame. The goal now is to enjoy the ride. I have a healthy and fit body, a good mind, and lots of interests to be pursued. After taking care of my bodily needs, all I need is a place to be, something to do, someone to do it with, and the anticipation of something good happening.