CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Synergy
November to December 2000
The pressure that had been building steadily in the shop was ready to erupt. Petula was in Bobbi’s bad books because Carmel no longer wanted the position of Honorarium, and with Kendall gone too, for much the same reasons, Bobbi was back to square one. When Petula decided to reject the top job she asked me if I wanted to take on the role of Honorarium. It was a fancy-word for a second-in-command position, with all the related responsibility, but nominal salary. Naturally, I refused. Of the remaining volunteers, Carmel was the next in line, followed by Kendall. Bobbi, in her wisdom, elected to train both and see where it led. In the early days of Carmel’s tenure, Kendall drove her to distraction with her ideas on what should be done, so when the position of Honorarium was on offer at Chermside Kendall accepted. Now with both out of the frame, Bobbi wanted Petula as Honorarium at Chermside until she found a full-time manager and Honorarium for Geebung. In the meantime, Chris, from the Bracken Ridge store, was back at Geebung and not at all happy about it. Petula wasn’t happy either, because the first thing Chris did was to change the store window and move other displays simply because she could.
Steve resumed his job the same day now they had work, but there was none for me. I got a letter from Bracken Ridge Physiotherapy Centre informing me my recent application had been unsuccessful. It wasn’t a surprise. A few minutes later, Faye rang to inform me I was spot-on with the reading I did for her daughter, who gave birth to a “black-haired boy” as predicted. I realised then it didn’t matter if I never got another ‘real’ job again because I was already doing my “job”.
On the following Friday evening, at a ‘happy hour’ session with her colleagues, Tamara told me the Director-General asked her what her plans were. When she told him she was thinking of moving to Treasury he suggested she’d be better off staying with State Development. In the next breath she found herself telling him to make her an offer she couldn’t refuse and she would. She said the words just tumbled out of her mouth, and while he was surprised, he didn’t seem upset. She was spreading her wings and looking more diligently at available accommodation in the next day’s newspaper.
At the library, I found several emails waiting for me from Liz, and one each from Roberta and Gaele. I had written to Gaele to ask if flower essences would help me release stuff from past lives. There was a lot more to it than that, she wrote, and suggested I not be in too great a hurry to delve into regression work. Liz was simply venting about Don and her kids. The following Monday, I arrived for my session only to I find I hadn’t been booked in. A computer was free so Dana let me have it. Luckily, the person booked in didn’t come. Afterwards, she told me some flyers had been left at the library about upcoming “donation only” courses at a place at Geebung called Hecate Haven. I thanked her and said I knew where that was. It was the new natural therapy centre next to Lifeline. I rang Petula when I got home to ask her to check them out the next day.
On the second Wednesday in November, Petula got her marching orders. She was to finish up the following Tuesday. Bobbi wanted someone at Geebung fulltime and put Petula back to Honorarium at two stores, Chermside and Bracken Ridge. I knew then that that was to be my last day for I had no intention of being anywhere near the place if Petula wasn’t. Gladys would do what she needed to do, as would the others who had previously agreed to go if Petula was forced out. The courses at Hecate Haven were to start the following Wednesday evening so it seemed like a natural progression. When Gladys offered to mind Petula’s daughters we decided we had nothing to lose by going. The course was to run for twenty weeks, cover an array of topics, and offer a certificate at the end. It seemed too good to be true, and after the so-called “Donation Only” Reiki course that never eventuated I wasn’t holding my breath.
The very next day I received a shocking email from Gaele. At the start of my 10.30 booking I had just opened an email from her before going on to the many from Liz. Her daughter was being cremated after a service starting that very minute. I had no idea she had even lost her daughter. I closed my eyes to mentally place myself in the chapel when I “saw” the girl walk from her coffin to stand before her mother and tell her not to weep because she was finally at peace. It was as clear as the vision I had of Danny in his hospital room in 1998 when the pieces of ceiling fell, allowing a stream of divine light to surround him. It was such emotional image I couldn’t concentrate of Liz’s wrathful ramblings so I left. The following afternoon I rang Gaele to see how she was and offer my condolences. It was the start of a strange period in my life. The more I thought about her the more Steve’s reaction to her came to mind in all its eerie detail. What was going on? I decided to leave her be for a week or two before ringing to see if I could do anything for her.
On Friday, I was helping Petula in the shop when Faye popped in. We had a lovely long chat about recent developments and where we would go from there. At the library the next day I wasn’t prepared for another battery of emails from Liz complaining about her daughter. I wrote that she should be grateful she still had a daughter, not really expecting her to be online at the same time. I copped a blast for putting in my two cents worth when it wasn’t warranted. I was glad I wasn’t living at her place. Apparently, Danuta had been hauled home by the police for being drunken and disorderly in a public place. The night before, she was in trouble for smashing a window in a drunken rage.
During this difficult period my washing machine constantly broke down forcing me to wash by hand. I hadn’t had to do that since the bleak days at Cribb Island. That time, I scrubbed Steve’s grease-covered work clothes until my hands bled. It didn’t go down well as I also had to wring out an endless number of towels and sheets. I kept telling myself what didn’t kill me was only going to make me stronger – literally. Days like that led to the unbridled joy I felt at getting my first automatic washing machine in 1993. That it was on its way out led me to recall another old saying: The more things change the more they stay the same.
On Steve’s fiftieth birthday, November 14th, I got a call from Leigh. She wanted to know if I would read for her friend, Mona in a fortnight. I agreed. The same day Jenny came around with her friend, Amanda. As we sat at the table drinking coffee and chatting about all manner of things, I thought about what Jason McDonald had said years before. Jenny was outgoing and friendly, but could she talk! When Amanda saw my cards she said she could read auras and proceeded to tell Jenny hers was pink on the right side and yellow on the left. Around her head was green. She said she learned how to read several years earlier and taught me a little of how it was done. “Focus on the person’s third eye area and slowly shift your focus. It is better if the person is sitting in front of a light coloured wall like yours.” They felt when Petula called.
She was furious. On her last day at the shop she said Bobbi called to inform her that the Honorarium position at Bracken Ridge was no longer on offer, but she still needed one for Geebung. She declined so Bobbi’s next tactic was to cry poor, saying there was no money to pay her a better wage, and that she was such a “valuable member of their staff and loved by everyone.” She said she was so glad to be out of it, but I didn’t have to be. I could be her fly on the wall. And so it was agreed. I would resume my Wednesdays and see what eventuated. I knew Gladys would be pleased about that. She was. When I first met Gladys I found it hard to call her that. I kept falling into the habit of calling her “Glady” like my aunt. She asked me to please not do that and it was only later, when she got to know me better, and knew about my aunt, that she relented. I tried to honour her wishes though, as did Petula, but every now and then, we both found ourselves calling her “Glady”. That no one else was permitted this privilege made us feel special.
The latest replacement manager was Robyn, a lady who said she was into all things Native American and loved “New Age” stuff like crystals. When she told me she came from Clontarf and had to get two forms of public transport to Geebung I was shocked. Why would anyone bother? It was insane, but so typical of Lifeline mentality. Why take Robyn from Clontarf to work the Geebung shop and send Chris, from Bracken Ridge, to work the Margate shop? The day dragged like never before. Even Gladys noticed it.
That evening I started the first course offered at Hecate Haven. There were ten students, Petula, Faye, Kendall and me included. The subject for discussion was “Spirit Guides”. Sue and Yvonne, with their respective husbands, Brett and Darren, along with their Tarot reader, Gayle, explained what we could expect on the night. “Gothic Gayle”, so named by us because of her penchant for the gothic look, explained a little about protecting ourselves and telling us what worked best. Sue and Yvonne then took their positions in front of the group. Candles were lit and the lights were turned off. We were to look at the two women and see what was happening around them. Could we see anyone? I couldn’t. Others could. When that exercise was completed, Brett and Darren took their wives’ places and we started again. Once more, I couldn’t see anything but others could. By this time I was well and truly in the mindset of I can’t do this. Why am I here? It was awful. Yvonne then called for a volunteer to take the men’s places. A brave lady in her late twenties accepted the challenge. And so it started again, only this time I did see something, and as clearly as if I was looking at a living, breathing person. He was a man of sixty or seventy, with a craggy face, combed back thinning grey hair, and unusually thick-lensed spectacles. As before, the group was asked to tell what they saw. No one saw the old man, so naturally, I felt worse than ever for “imagining” things. But, when my turn came I decided honesty was the best policy so I described him. The volunteer was thanked for her participation and was asked to return to her seat. She did, but from the other side, which meant she had to pass everyone to take her second last seat on the opposite side of the room to me.
Her name was Michelle. She paused as she passed my seat to say: “Never doubt what you see. That man, exactly as you described him, was drawn for me just last week by a psychic artist.” I was dumbfounded, and so very grateful to her for telling me. It was the most exhilarating feeling. There was time for one more volunteer so Petula put her hand up. This time people saw two spirits battling each other for supremacy, a younger male and an older female. I saw the old woman but not a man. I saw a young girl, around fifteen years of age, with untidy long dark hair and round “John Lennon” glasses. She wore a beret at an angle on her head, and looked every inch the French artistic type seen on film and television.
As before, we told of what we saw and everyone joined in on the discussion that ensued. It wasn’t that they were battling as much as one being stronger than the other, we were told. I refrained from joining in that part of the discussion because no one else had seen the girl. As before, when my turn came to tell of what I saw, I told the truth only to see Petula put her finger over her mouth as if saying: “Sush!” She then quickly moved her hand up slightly as if to say “Stop”. As instructed, I said no more.
Before the evening ended, we did a guided meditation on communicating with our own guides. I saw a monk-like figure I had seen on many previous occasions when meditating. As always, he never showed his face and always stood behind me. That night, I asked him to please move around to the front or side so I could see him. He did. But still, his cowl and robe concealed him from me so I asked if he would please show me what he looked like. There was no response. I felt strangely uneasy but then I heard Yvonne’s voice instructing us to ask our guide a question. What do I ask someone who won’t even show himself? The moment my question left my mind I was mortified. Of all the questions I could ask a spiritual being, why would I ask: Will I ever paint The Lady of The Lake?” I felt like a total idiot, but in the next millisecond, his arms reached up and pushed his cowl back. There was nothing inside but the most breathtakingly brilliant white light. It was so bright it should have felt blinding but it wasn’t. It was gentle and pure, peaceful and beautiful. I felt so much at one with this amazing energy I didn’t want to return to the room.
On leaving I bailed Petula up and asked what all that was about. “Not now. Tell me at Glady’s. I want every, single detail.” The girls were sleeping, one on the couch and one on the floor when we arrived at Gladys’ house just after 10pm. While Gladys put the kettle on I told Petula about the girl. When I had finished she said it was Becky.
“Who’s Becky?”
“My daughter.”
“You don’t have a daughter named Becky.”
“No, but I would have, had she lived.”
“When did she die?”
“When I was eight weeks.”
“Eight weeks! Pregnant? But I saw a girl, a teenager!”
“That’s how old she would be now, had she lived.”
And so I heard all about Becky and how Petula knew she was around her and what she would have looked like had she lived. Margaret told all about her years before. It was an extraordinary moment in my spiritual evolution – and hers.
The next day I stopped in to see her for she had some good news. With the help of her counsellor, she had confronted one of her fears by asking Dave to return a large sum of money he borrowed from her. She doesn’t know if she’ll get any of it but it didn’t seem to matter. Having Becky around her again gave her the courage to take what was, for her, a huge step forward. As we spoke she told me more about a vision she had, one she had spoken of many times before. She called it “The Farm”, a place troubled and homeless youth could go to learn skills and master their demons. In those days, she felt seven women were involved and we each had a colour. I was purple and she was blue. She believed two of the remaining five would be Gladys and Faye. She said we should call this place “Rainbow Ribbons”. The strangest part about it was that it was more than just her vision. Steve even dreamt of the place she spoke of, as did her children. A large, old white Queenslander was its heart. Dotted around it were sheds for tools and workshops. “The Farm” was a sanctuary for all who sought refuge from their troubles and yearned to make a difference in the world. As she spoke, I was reminded of what Sarina said about an old Queenslander where people came and went, like a refuge or a retreat.
Saturday November 18th was not a good day. It started early when Tamara said she was paid out all her accrued annual leave from her traineeship and wanted to buy a new washing machine for me. I could pay it back by deducting a certain amount each week from her board. It was a perfect solution to everyone but Steve, and all because of his stubborn refusal to accept he could not always be provider. I tried to get him to see his adult children had every right to share the load when necessary, but nothing any of us said made any difference. He was so wound up he was ready to explode. After ordering me to ring the repair man I burst into tears and couldn’t stop. Che was devastated, and after having a go at his father, he held me in his arms. The more I cried, the harder he held on. A line had been drawn in the sand. In the morning, Steve accepted the merit of Tamara’s suggestion and apologised for being so pig-headed. He still wanted to ensure our machine was beyond repair before allowing his child to buy another though.
That evening, Petula and I won a minor prize in Gold Lotto, enough to buy Gladys something nice for her birthday, nine days earlier. After much consideration, I settled on a fluorite pendant. It was a good day for everyone. The washing machine was fixable, and at no charge, and Dave found a flat. He would be moving out during the week. On Tuesday, Dana organised the conference room for another of our ‘chats’. She told me about her concept of time and that in quantum physics, the past, present and future happen simultaneously. In 2012, she said there would be a dramatic shift that would pave the way for a new way of thinking and living. When Tamara got home from work she told me she had three job interviews scheduled for Thursday, two of which were for permanent positions. If she gets one of them she said she would take her $3,000 and go overseas next year.
On Wednesday, I went to Leigh’s to read for her friend Mona. She was not alone. There were two other people who Leigh said were desperately in need of advice. Mona was so happy with her reading she insisted on giving me more than the agreed $10 and managed to scrape up another $9 in loose change. All were happy enough to set a date for another reading day in January. One of them was Glenys, the tight-lipped lady I read for in July. The other was her daughter. The same evening, I went down to Hecate Haven for the second class of the course. I enjoyed the night because the subject was Tarot and Palm Reading. Faye didn’t come. She was too caught up in the joys of being a new grandmother. I took my Robin Wood deck with me and asked Yvonne if she was familiar with it. She said she was, but when I put the Ace of Cups down for everyone to see she was amazed at its beauty. There was no way she had seen it before, and therefore, no way she could have been familiar with the deck. It only confirmed my suspicions.
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| The Ace of Cups from the Robin Wood Tarot deck |
Two days later, I rang Gaele. She seemed in good spirits and during the latter part of our conversation said she felt there was something she may need my help with in the coming year; a germ of an idea that had been forming in her mind. The day before Tamara’s 25th birthday, I asked her to choose something for her birthday. At Zen Gallery, I found some lapis lazuli and amethyst pendants I was sure she would love but couldn’t decide between them. She selected a triple lapis one I would have had I been more courageous. Blue is definitely her colour. Petula rang to say Dave had moved into his new unit and is back where he was when she met him. She said he hadn’t learned any lessons from the relationship. I only hoped she had.
On Wednesday, Petula picked me up and after dropping her girls off at Gladys’ we went to Hecate Haven for the third week’s class. The topic for the evening was Astral Travel. As we sat waiting for others to arrive I had the strangest feeling I had to put the white light around myself and then around Petula. When a few more people arrived, the feeling returned so I put the light around them. And so it was until the door closed and the class began. That had never happened before so I didn’t quite know what to make of it. Someone asked a question which was answered and then someone else asked a question. The evening continued as a question and answer session until it was too late to do what was planned. We finished with a meditation and drove back to Gladys’ house talking about the strangeness of the night. When she dropped me home she said I should ask Gaele what it all meant.
Before I went to the library on Thursday I got a call from Petula and we arranged to meet at Chermside. One of the Lifeline volunteers had rung to say Robyn was being subjected to some nasty intimidation tactics and she wanted to know what to do about it. With my knowledge and Steve’s assistance, I was able to tell her about her rights and how to protect herself. It was obvious that Bobbi used Robyn to get rid of Petula and now she wanted to get rid of Robyn. As I had not officially ceased to be a Lifeline volunteer I had every right to be talking to Robyn when Bobbi walked in, missing Petula by minutes.
The following Monday I agreed to meet Petula at the shop because she wanted to photograph some plastic crates. Long before I met her she said a broken crate came into the Strathpine shop with the load and she sent it back with a note to the effect it must be replaced before someone got hurt. In August, the same or another broken crate found its way to Geebung. As before, she sent it back with a note that it be replaced. When a broken crate once more found its way to Geebung an elderly volunteer tore her leg badly on its jagged edge. From what Robyn said, broken and cracked crates were still in circulation. We were to meet Robyn there but she never showed. Someone else did. Petula said the woman was notoriously lazy and that Gladys should not do more than she normally did. I decided then and there it was time to end this pathetic saga. Gladys would stay on for the same reasons she was there when I met her, but that Gladys, and the Gladys she had became were two very different people. She would be alright. I had no doubt about that. The next day we learned Robyn was sacked on the spot at close of business on Friday. It took place like a military operation. Papers were drawn up falsely claiming she had ben issued with the requisite verbal and written warnings and she was escorted from the premises.
On Thursday, I got a reply from Gaele regarding my query. She said my guides had taken steps to protect me because astral travel can be dangerous, especially in the hands of someone I didn’t trust implicitly. Yvonne certainly fit that bill. She also told me I was being shown how to run a class, and how not to run one.
On Monday December 11th, Petula’s sister-in-law came over to read our auras. She told Petula there was an aboriginal woman behind her holding a baby – a baby waiting to be born. That was a little too much information for Petula. As for me, she said I had an Egyptian artisan around me whose work involved chiselling hieroglyphs into temple walls and other sacred places. She said the dark green at the top of my head represented suppressed emotions, which was not good. I must work on releasing them as soon as practicable. I had yellow for learning and teaching, blue for communication, and violet for spirituality. The following Saturday I saw Gaele. She was not doing well at all. I hoped and prayed I never had to know what it was like to lose a child.
As the year drew to a close, I thought about everything that had taken me to where I was. So much had happened. I had met some wonderful and amazing people. I had learned so much about myself. I was even given a glimpse into why Steve behaved the way he did. He was seeing his father, a man who couldn’t provide for his family, a man whose children had to do that. But, instead of doing what he could to change things, he became the very thing he had feared the most, an abusive husband and father. True, he was never physically abusive, but verbal, emotional and psychological abuse is just as damaging. Many years later, I would come to realise why I had to understand this. It was a pattern with him. He must destroy what he fears the most lest it rise within him.
From that sort of thinking, my thoughts turned to Gaele. I went over his odd reaction in my mind again. What made him so afraid? He had no knowledge of the woman. He had never met her. And then it hit me. Gaele was an Aries. She was the Queen of Wands Coral told me was coming!
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