This morning, I woke up with enough inspiration to add seven pages to my novel in less than an hour, and the exercise has maneuvered me in a state where you guys and gals get the short end of the stick: I’m leaving website update to my other team members today, and will enjoy this day in total relaxation. As a bandaid, here are the pages I added today:

Thursday, October 30th,
2003, 20:21

Somebody
lied to me today, but both he and I Know it: Henk told me today his
Thursday meetings are going to end, so I won’t be able to continue
visiting his psychic hour.

 

In
case you hadn’t guessed, Henk is a psychic. He is the guy who helped
me realize about the vow I’d made at age eight, to figure out the
Cosmos, and tell everyone who will hear about it. I’m glad he did,
especially from the viewpoint of where I am now, finishing the novel
that will be the culmination of this life’s work.

Henk
magically appeared as a friend of a friend of a colleague of my wife,
in a moment where I desperately needed him. The first night he told
me my soul was aligned someway half outside my body, but he wouldn’t
fix it. Instead, he had me fix it myself! Make-belief, hypnosis, name
it what you want, but that night I felt better than I had in years!

Henk
held what he called his Thursday meetings, and invited me to come. No
entrance fees or anything, although some of us sometimes brought
cookies to go with the ever abundant coffee. When one day I offered
him fifty euros for his services, he looked at me and merely asked:
“Why are you doing this?” in a non-incriminating manner.

Lying
on the table, Henk taught me to recognize the flow of energy
throughout my body, and he kept trying to teach me to breathe
properly. In that, he seemed not to succeed, or did he: I’ve always
been a shallow on-demand breather. Just couldn’t stick to his program
of deep, belly-based breathing.

And
he asked me to write. Write manually, while in fact I dislike my own
handwriting. I did it, but for serious writing like this novel I
still stick to hammering it out on the keyboard. Maybe my disregard
for his lessons is what eventually got him to call it “Class
Dismissed!”, but I don’t think so…..

One
last experiment I remember around that time happened around that
time, was an outing to the local kids farm with my family. I was very
occupied with my being, and while the kids played, I was sitting on a
bench in the Sun. A fly came up to me, and landed on my right leg,
just above the knee. I figured, if my vibration was OK, I’d be able
to approach it sincerely, without disturbing it.

I
moved my left hand, index finger outstretched, to the vicinity of
it’s bulging faceted eyes, quite slowly. Do you know how hard it is
to approach a common housefly from the front, to within one
millimeter of it’s head? I did succeed however, and we sat there for
seconds, face to ‘face’.

Finally,
I broke the magic by becoming greedy, and carefully nudged its head.
The fly got up, and landed just out of range of my hand, as if to
say: “OK, I know your boundaries now….”

When
I later told Henk about it, he applauded me for having made so much
progress. And when he stopped seeing me on Thursdays, he offered his
help for anything I might require later on. Well Henk, I’d love to
send you this manuscript, but by now I think you will somehow
magically get your hands on it when the time comes….

 

Saturday, April 17th,
2010, 04:42

Today
I am somewhat in conflict, but in a good way. I’m going to break my
word in a manner of speaking, but only because I know Jolene will
forgive me, in a way will even silently applaud me for it!

Just
like I Knew Henk, the psychic that helped me at age 35 to remember my
vow at age eight, was lying when he told me his Thursday meetings
were ending, I just Know Jolene meant just about the complete
opposite of what she told me: she asked me not to tell anyone about
her life, but I’m sure she’ll absolutely not mind that I tell this
story anyway, with the proper precautions to achieve what the
business end of the world would call ‘Plausable Denyability’, or in
other words, a bit of white lying magic to protect the innocent.

I
met Jolene on the train the other day, quite by incident, and very
nicely. Somehow, I felt very, very connected to her, even though she
turned out to be a person who had an uncanny ability to tell me
exactly what kind of a person I am! Or maybe just because of that,
because with her, my Know-indicator was on the blink.

But
despite the obvious connect, she kept her distance. We did exchange
addresses, and over the next few weeks, she phoned me a couple of
times, just to hear about how I was doing, and what was up in my
life. Jolene felt very awesome, kinda like Selina, even though with
her there was this barrier, which both of us kept intact: externally,
she was the kind of person I’m not really attracted to, which was
aggravated by the fact she tried convince me that our relationship
was purely business (which is kind of a dirty word to me).

She
claimed she needed help with her computer, and one day, I was invited
to provide said help. I traveled there at the appointed hour, and
walked the last few hundred meters from the bus to her home, or at
least the address she gave me. It was in a well to do neighborhood,
all privately owned homes. I rang the bell, and was invited in, only
to find myself in a pigsty! I mean, she’d warned me her place was a
mess, but I figured it to be like mine sometimes is, for lack of
futuristic domestic droids. This however looked far worse, and my
first instinct, which I immediately followed, was to offer her to
help clean things up a bit. She wouldn’t hear of it however, claiming
she’d gotten me in there to help her along where the computer was
concerned.

So
I sat down, amidst a flurry of newspaper clippings, partially opened
mail, and other ‘messy’ things. Nothing really gross, just this
consistent wrapping of disorder that I could easily ignore in order
to get my work done. She wanted a general cleanup of her computer,
like I’ve done dozens of times for myself and others. Defrag,
cleanup, remove unused software, install basic stuff needed to do
proper work, you know the drill. So did I, or so I thought…

I’d
seen she used Outlook for her mail, but also observed that her Word
and Excel where complaining about needing an installer CD to be
usable. I usually resort to public domain software wherever possible,
and so gave her the option of having OpenOffice installed, instead of
those office applications. She agreed, not realising like
I should have, that
her Outlook was part of the Microsoft Office I was aiming to replace.
We chatted on, while she made us something to eat in a kitchen that
to me would have been barely unacceptable as starting point for
cooking activities.

It
was a home-brewn soup, as she called it, quite tasty, but too many
unknown ingredients to be on my list of favorite dishes. I somewhat
too ardently refused seconds, but we parted as friends. Then, after
I’d gotten home, she called that her E-mail no longer worked.
Realizing my colossal blunder I gladly took the blame, but was
relieved she didn’t expect me to get back on the train right that
instance. I did offer to attempt a rescue using TeamViewer, so I
could take over her system from home, but being a self-proclaimed
digifobe, she declined that. She did get another friend to call me
later, to dissolve the matter via phone.

But
then there’s the little incongruities that trigger you to the
weirdness of the situation: though Jolene claimed she was afraid of
computers, I counted no less than three
systems in her home: the computer I needed to work on, an IBM
Thinkpad carelessly lying around, and a Compaq DeskPro system in one
of the bedrooms. Add to that the question she’d asked me about
purchasing Val’s old laptop, and I guessed myself in the twilight
zone.

Speaking
of zones: even though she and I were in the zone constantly, I was
very near the edge of my comfort zone while in that place. To me, a
home needs to be somewhat cleaner to be comfortable, but it was
Jolene’s home, so I kept abiding by her will, and tried not to
disturb the flurry of newspaper clippings that so cozily surrounded
me.

Yesterday,
I mailed her to inquire if her friend’s rescue operation had
succeeded. I got back a mail, so it obviously had: she said she
wasn’t angry or disappointed, but told me not to mail, phone, or try
to contact her otherwise.

Now
I could mourn the loss of a friend, but this sounded way more like:
“School’s over, class dismissed!”

Final
sync: I just found out Rush are on their “Time Machine Tour”! How
very syncy that they are mentioned in various places in this Now Time
Tale……