CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Out of the Shadows
January to April 2001
My New Year’s resolution for 2001 was to unite the parts of myself that had been scattered by other people’s beliefs. I needed to know who I was, what I believed, where I was going, and how I was going to get there. To this end I told Petula I would not be resuming classes at Hecate Haven. I also vowed to lose weight – again.
In the 1980s, I walked every morning. On fine days, I covered a lot of terrain in forty-five minutes. On wet days, I walked for an hour in the carport – around and around and around. Yet, whenever something happened to interrupt my obsessive schedule, as it invariably did, I found it hard to pick up where I left off. And so it was that with every New Year, I’d make yet another resolution to cleanse my mind, body and soul. After several attempts to stop smoking, I succeeded only to find the weight creep on. In the early ‘90s, I became a health-nut, but then I got a job, got lazy, and watched the weight creep back on. As always, I went to extremes. In 1995, I bought a vegetable juicer and started walking to and from work whenever possible. I started every day with a glass of fresh vegetable juice, but with each failed diet and exercise regimen, I’d find myself worse off than before. By late 1999, with my ankle a convenient excuse to slow down, I gradually became less fit, more overweight, tired, fed up, and cantankerous. I didn’t think there was more to it than not eating properly or exercising enough. As a result, I ignored the classic symptoms of hypothyroidism and did what I always did – binge and purge. When I was forced to acknowledge the problem I rejected the orthodox path of medication because I knew if I started drug therapy it was for life. That wasn’t an option.
By late 2000, Petula and I were walking every morning. I’d drive to her place and from there we’d walk for forty minutes after which we would spend hours talking. By that time, she and her girls were often taking long walks on the beach with Steve and me, or sharing our barbecue dinners, something she was not used to. She was not used to being treated well by men in general. When she’d ring in tears over Dave, Steve would tell her to take one small step at a time. Life was harder by year’s end because she was also faced with having to find another place to live. With Christmas behind her, another worry presented itself. She feared Steve was developing feelings for her. She told me she got that a lot, and while it had caused problems in the past, she said she couldn’t be other than what she is. When I asked him if there was anything to it he acknowledged that while she was an attractive and vivacious woman, he knew not to go there. It bothered her that he bought us similar Christmas gifts. Mine was a purple glass unicorn rearing from a bed of amethyst; hers was pink on rose quartz. In our own ways, we were all dealing with the changes taking place in our lives. At least one change proved less stressful for her than it might have been. When she moved, she moved just two doors down.
By year’s end, Steve was doing readings himself, having taken over my second Robin Wood deck when I bought a third. While he’d often complain of a dull ache in his sinuses, he dismissed my suggestion it wasn’t his sinuses but his third eye chakra. Things got a little more interesting on New Year’s Eve. We were sitting in the back yard talking when Petula looked up to see not Steve sitting opposite her, but a “wizard with long flowing white hair and beard”.
On January 2nd, Tamara returned from a trip she had taken with her friend, Debbie, the person she accused me of being too judgemental about last September. She had learned some hard lessons on that trip and, on the train coming home, she decided it was time she embarked upon her own journey of discovery.
By early January, Liz and her problems no longer monopolised my email time. Roberta wrote every week if she could, and I started getting regular emails from Gaele and Martita. Gaele’s were generally forwarded messages from friends and acquaintances. Some were funny and others interesting, but all gave me knowledge I mightn’t otherwise have come by. Marita was embarking on her own spiritual quest, which wasn’t a surprise, although I did wonder how Ralph would handle it. When the time is right we make choices that help us find our way back to the Source. Some of these choices lead us down some very lonely and challenging roads, although we don’t have to walk them alone. We all have Light Keepers who show us the way when we cannot see where we are going. They may be spirit guides or guardian angels, people we know, or even strangers. They may walk a while with us or simply hold their torch up long enough for us to get a glimpse of the path ahead.
On Saturday January 6th, I took Tamara to look at some units, all of which were a disappointing commentary on the rental market. Whilst I was driving to the next place on the list she suddenly told me we must go to Enoggera immediately. Spirit had taken over, and while that was all well and good, I saw a major problem with the unit selected. To visit her I would need to navigate the notorious Pickering Street roundabout. Still, for price and location, the two storey unit was exactly what she needed at the time.
The day after she moved in, I stood in her room, empty except for the cupboard, and decided it would make an ideal meditation retreat. I was mid-way through cleaning walls and windows when the phone rang. It was Petula. She wanted to know if I would go on a drive with her. It turned out to be more than just a drive although she was in no position to make an offer on a property even if she did find “The Farm”. It was really just an excuse to have some time away from kids and responsibilities. When I got home I found Steve in one of his black moods. I didn’t have time for him anymore because I was off gallivanting around with Petula. It wasn’t as if we did much on Sundays anyhow. I thought back to the days when he’d go fishing or to the pub leaving me at home with the kids. I also thought about Christmases past when he drank himself into oblivion. Over time, though, the majority of his rants concerned ‘my stuff’. In his opinion I was a hoarder. In mid-January, I decided he just might be right. A book I was reading on Feng Shui was the catalyst, but he didn’t need to know that. I was utterly ruthless, too, and in the doing realised he was right. I kept stuff I didn’t need simply because I may need it some day or because I had an emotional attachment to it.
On the following Friday, I got another strange email from Gaele. Her husband had just been released from hospital following a heart attack, and because she was a former nurse, her adult children “expected” her to look after him. This was despite them separating six years earlier. I wondered what I would have done in the same situation. It bothered me and I didn’t know why. When I met her, and we talked about the days and weeks after we broke our ankles, I realised that in spite of Steve’s moods, I wouldn’t trade him for the world. He nursed me and did everything he could to make my life comfortable and do-able. Her husband couldn’t be bothered. Self-absorbed, is how she described him. When I asked if that was why she left him she said it was a contributing factor. One morning she said she woke up knowing if she didn’t leave that day she would go mad. My next question was why she hadn’t divorced him if that was the case. She said he could do that. It seemed so pointless to me, like a childish game of tit for tat.
On the third Sunday in the month, Petula and I spent another day driving through the Sunshine Coast hinterland. She was not completely over Dave and he wasn’t helping with his frequent calls and text messages. He had also left his car and some personal possessions at her place, obviously as a ploy to get back into her life. She was aware of that, but she hadn’t reached the point where she was able to do much about it. The day was coming, though, and all because of the steady progress she was making in her bid to get a financial settlement from her ex-husband.
The next day, I went to Leigh’s place for another reading day. I was used to Glenys and her ways by then. She really was a lovely lady whose company I enjoyed, but that day she was being unintentionally difficult and admitted to feeling blocked. She knew what she wanted. She simply didn’t know how to go about bringing it to fruition. At the other end of the scale was Linda, a lovely English lady Warren met online. This courageous woman had left her grown family and strained marriage to travel to the other side of the world in the hope of making a new life for herself and picking up work as a teacher. She was going to make it.
On the last day of January, Steve learned his on-again, off-again job was back on. For how long was anyone’s guess. He would start in early February after having a minor surgical procedure. The same day Petula had some good news from Women’s Legal Services. Thanks to a cancellation, her March 2nd appointment has been brought forward to February 14th. Two days later, Leigh’s friend, Mona, called in the hope I could do a reading for her friend, Raelene and another lady that day. I agreed in spite of the house being in a mess. With Tamara gone I was moving things around and establishing her room for myself. Steve was so excited he helped me move stuff out of the way and set up the table and chairs. When the ladies arrived, he kept one company while the other was with me. The very next day, Raelene called to refer another friend who, in turn, was so happy with her reading she referred me to yet another, who then told others - the ripple effect in action.
After dropping Steve off at his Northgate workshop on February 8th, I went to Petula’s place to discuss the recent developments. “Get out that material” she said. “You’ve got a use for it now!” During our Lifeline days a roll of filmy sea green fabric came in with the load one day. I was so drawn to it I paid a better than fair price even though I hadn’t the foggiest idea what I would do with it. Ever the pragmatic one, Gladys said I would never do anything with it because it was no good for anything. She was more surprised when some yellow cotton fabric came in and Petula told me to grab it. We both argued there wasn’t enough of it, but she instinctively knew it would be perfect contrast to the green if made into curtains. “Curtains!” exclaimed Gladys in disbelief. That was too much.
When I got home I grabbed the roll from where I’d stashed it and draped a few metres over the royal blue carpet in the room. I then added the yellow. Perfect! Petula offered to make the curtains for me while I got on with the job of painting the furniture. Two retro arm chairs I had intended to throw out would be a great addition, once painted and recovered, as would an old bookcase. I had bought it in the ‘70s for storing towels. An unused camping table would complete the room nicely. All I needed were a couple of high-backed chairs. A few days later, I bought two quilt covers with an astrological theme in the colours I needed. Together, they would provide sufficient fabric for a tablecloth and chair covers. It had been a long time since I had felt so inspired.
I continued the green and yellow theme by buying paint in similar colours for the furniture. The cupboard was part of the bedroom suite my parents gave me for my thirteenth birthday. Twenty years after going to Nanango with Frances and Anne in 1966, it and the dressing table found their way back to me. Green, yellow and blue were obviously my colours during this period because when looking at my aura Petula said it contained them all, rolling in like waves of interchanging hues. She said a woman with long dark hair carrying a child stepped out from behind me. Above her head was a symbol she thought might represent a gateway or portal to another realm. The moment I saw her sketch of it I knew I had seen it before. We waded through magazines looking for astrological glyphs because I thought it might be the one for Gemini. It wasn’t. Petula then wondered if it might be an Egyptian hieroglyph because she felt the woman with the child was Egyptian. The mystery only deepened when I got home and realised what it actually was, the sixteenth letter of the Greek alphabet; the mathematical symbol for Pi.
The day before her first session with Women’s Legal Services, Petula woke from a disturbing dream about an Ansett plane that crashed into the ocean off the coast of Cairns. She said life-jacketed bodies, airline seats and other debris were strewn over land and sea. According to the airline manifest, Dave on was board although his body was never recovered. On waking, she convinced herself it was just a silly dream because Dave wasn’t likely to be flying anywhere. However, there was a correlation with events in her life. When she made the appointment she began to fly, soar even, like an eagle, powerful and fearless. As the point of no return neared, she felt more like a stone plummeting to earth. She knew Neville would never allow her to take anything from him he didn’t want her to have. How Dave featured in the whole mess was unclear, she argued, because their relationship was over. But was it? His car and possessions were still at the house even if his body wasn’t.
She came away from her first legal session armed with information and documents to complete. She was convinced Neville had secreted away large sums of money rendering any claim pointless. She was weakening. Life with Neville may have been hard, but she felt it would be much worse to confront him in a court of law. I told her bullies wilt when confronted and she had every legal right to be recompensed. Thankfully, her fragile state of mind was no match for her creative fire. Making my curtains served as a timely distraction during this stressful time. Not only did she have the green and yellow ones to make, she was making some for my lounge and dining rooms as well as the kitchen. We found the fabric weeks before at a wholesalers’ outlet at Taigum shopping centre.
In late February, I picked up Gladys and took her to Petula’s place for a girls’ afternoon during which I did readings for them both. Petula was warned about a Capricorn male. Neville was a Capricorn, but I intuitively knew the message was not about him. A new Capricorn was coming. Petula said she was going to a barbecue on the weekend to meet a man named Mark. It was set up by a former friend she had not seen in years. The man was her boyfriend’s brother. “If he’s a Capricorn, run like hell.” He was. She didn’t.
With this new man hovering around the edges of her life, she knew she had to finalise things with the old ones. The situation with Neville was underway, but there was still Dave and his car to deal with. I followed her to his unit. She left the car there, packed with his belongings, and I took her home. It was exhilarating, terrifying, and as expected, didn’t go down well. But she survived the onslaught. Her relationship with Mark was destined to end the same way, but with each passing day she became more and more besotted with him. He was a truck driver and a racing car enthusiast who promised romance and excitement. This time it was different, she assured me. It’s always different when one is in love.
In early March, during a reading at Leigh’s, a lady couldn’t understand a repeated message she got about her husband’s job not being safe. She was adamant there was no problem with his job because it was “as safe as houses”. After listening to her mother’s tape, her daughter decided she, too, must have a reading with me. When her reading also forecast problems with her father’s job, I thought back to Petula’s dream because the man worked for Ansett. Was Ansett going to crash?
By early April, my meditation room was finished. It looked great and as I stood in the doorway admiring my handiwork, I got a message to paint the cupboard. I couldn’t understand because the originally pink and grey cupboard was now yellow and green. It stood diagonally opposite the door, across the room from the two armchairs I put on either side of a low round table I found in a second hand shop. A small bookcase, found in the same shop, stood below the side window. Between the cupboard and the old book shelf I had originally bought to store towels in was another window. The green-draped curtains, with their yellow top frill and tie-backs, looked lovely. Everything about the room, its colours, paint, fabric, furniture and carpet, blended together in perfect harmony. Still the message came. What was wrong with the cupboard? And then it hit me. Oh! Paint the cupboard!
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| One view of the room |
April turned out to be a very productive month in general. Che’s relationship with Jenny was blossoming and he was no longer seeing Dzintra, at least not at the house. On April 3rd, he went for his driving test so I did some readings to see how he would go. Two cards fell out: The World and the Page of Pentacles. These I intuitively saw as meaning success coupled with further education. When he came home with Jenny and his mates, Gregg and Kerry in tow, each as poker-faced as he was, I had to drag it out of him. Yes, he got his licence. Before the day was done I understood what those cards were tying to tell me. He felt he shouldn’t have passed his test because he didn’t deserve to when he still had much still to learn. He was a strange mix that boy of mine. Sarina was right. He did think older than his years.
On the second Monday in the month, I read for four more people at Leigh’s place. Positive feedback was still coming in from the previous readings I had done there, which was good because I wouldn’t be doing any for a while. After Easter, Leigh and Warren were going on an overseas trip, touring England and parts of Europe. Warren was concerned because his recent readings were indicating dramatic change coming his way. Retirement was not what he thought it would be.
As April drew to a close, I put the finishing touches on the cupboard. The head and shoulders of an Egyptian woman, I instinctively knew was Isis, had come to life under my brush on the upper third of the left door. Below her I painted the pyramids of Giza, some hieroglyphs, and a winged version of Isis. The bottom third featured the Eye of Horus and some Egyptian-style artwork. The right door looked so bland and vacant in comparison. I didn’t have to think about what to paint on the left side. It flowed like the Nile in flood. When I couldn’t decide between a Celtic or Native American theme I sat in one of the armchairs and gazed into Isis’ hypnotic eyes. The next thing I knew I was slapping paint on the upper third of the door in a frenzy. I was aware of what I was doing, but at the same time I felt I was not in control of my brush. When I was finished I knew I had painted The Lady of the Lake – or at least her hand as it emerged from the dark waters of her lake clutching Excalibur, the sword of truth, justice and wisdom. The middle third featured Stonehenge, crystals, and aspects of Celtic folklore, while the lower third contained a Celtic knot. When it was finished I was given a message that the different colours in the knot’s strands represented the many lifetimes lived while beginning and ending with the Source, represented by the golden rays of the sun.
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| Cupboard doors |
Of all the thoughts and feelings that welled up inside me as I stood looking at that cupboard, which totally transformed the energy of the room, one was paramount. Peter Harvoe was right. I could do this. The proof was staring me in the face. When I did my mandalas I never felt that. Not even when the last became something other than what I had intended. Sarina’s words came back to me, too. “There will be something different about it in texture or colour.” There was. The wood of the doors featured triangular indentations, four of which formed a square. Little pyramids!
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