Last night, I enjoyed a lovely Full Moon “Ladies’ Night In” at a friend’s house in Elkhart — about twenty-five minutes from where we live. Since I don’t drive, my friend connected me with people driving there from Goshen, but yesterday morning, I almost cancelled. The image of my ride stuck in snow flashed across my brain, and I wondered aloud to David, “As good as it sounds, maybe it’s not worth the ordeal of getting there and getting home.” Eventually, I decided it would be worth it, because I always enjoy this group of women from Elkhart, and I rarely see them. [Spoiler alert: despite the adventure that follows, it was worth it. Lots of fun, food and community.]
I went about the rest of my day, but as I got ready for the evening, I really layered up. By the time I finished, I had on Cuddl Dud’s under a pair of leggings, with knee socks in between. On top, I wore a tank top and a fleece Cuddl Dud shirt under a Celtic poncho, with these funny striped “arm warmers” with thumb holes that run from hand nearly to shoulder. I tucked those under the Cuddl Dud’s for extra warmth, then accessorized with an Irish wool scarf and a floppy (very warm) beret. In addition to those arm warmers, I brought thin gloves and alpaca “muffettees,” knitted by David’s sister. These fit over my gloves for extra warmth. LOL, and style … can’t forget the style, but last night, it was mostly about the layered warmth. My friend is majorly renovating her house, so I wore an old, but warm coat and nearly knee high boots. We were also instructed to bring blankets to sit on, since there’s much more sawdust than furniture at this point.
Normally, I Reiki the car if I don’t know the driver — and sometimes because I know the driver. I always appreciate rides, but cars and I do not have the best history, so I generally Reiki the entire journey, along with about a 12 foot radius bubble of protective energy around the car. Hey, it helps! Last night, though, we all brought clothes to exchange with each other before offering to Goodwill. Balancing two huge bags of clothes, a bag of falafel chips, my purse, an old blanket and two foam ground seats, as I walked across our icy mulch to get in the car, I completely forgot about the Reiki.
I had met this driver once before and didn’t know the other person in the car, but they were both very nice. On the way there, my line of work came into the conversation, as well as why I don’t drive. I explained about my 1998 brain injury and how I don’t “see” the way other people do. If I wanted a driver’s license (which I don’t), I would need to pass a certified driving course for previously brain injured people in order to have legitimate insurance. I’m certain I would also need to get glasses, because my distance vision is not the type required for driving cars!
I tried to explain how I see “multi-dimensionally,” far into the temporal distance (past, parallel and/or future), and recognize “intersections” as potent power points of transmutation or clear crossing — but that this way of seeing and conceiving of the world does not translate well into 2,000 pound vehicles moving towards each other at 50+ mph. My mind knows it can bend reality, but the “rules of the road” are so ingrained in other drivers that I’m pretty sure my car would cause real 3D damage if it barreled into another 3D driver who doesn’t view the world the way I do. Those “rules of reality” are just so ingrained that I voluntarily have removed myself from the road hazard I’d be if I did not allow my reality to shift more into alignment with “normal 3D living.” Since my way works exceptionally well for me, I am grateful — along with everyone else — that I don’t drive. We also talked about Medical Intuitive Readings, Lyme Disease, “Fateful accidents” and other things. Fun conversation!
Our time in Elkhart passed so quickly that none of us believed we’d been there three hours. We headed home around 11:00, and two fire trucks pulled out in front of us when we hit downtown Goshen. “Ohhh, some excitement in little Goshen,” I said, then apologized with a giggle, “I don’t get out much at night!” Again, the image of the car getting stuck in snow crossed my mind, but the roads were clear, so I tried to wipe that from my brain. We got within about four blocks of my house when the driver passed the right turn.
She said, “Oh, I missed that turn! Does this next street go through?”
“No,” I said, “sorry, you’ll want to turn around.”
Instead, she turned right anyway, at which point –even though I try really hard not to be a backseat driver — I said, “Hey, what are you doing? That’s not a road! Whoa, seriously, back up. You won’t get through there.” The “road” had some truck tracks through the foot of icy (hard-packed) snow, so she kept going.
“I don’t want to be rude,” I said, “it’s your car, but you really should reverse on out of here.” My kooky “long-distance” vision had kicked in. No, I can’t see clearly very far away with my physical eyes, but I could see the “road” in extreme detail in my mind’s eye. I knew there were obstacles besides the snow — obstacles the snow was hiding, and I could sense the narrowing of this “road” so that there was no way her car would fit through at this time, even without the foot of concrete-like snow.
“I can’t reverse,” she said, “it will be too hard. I’m already committed.” We were about 5 feet in at this point.
“I really think it will be easier to reverse now,” I said, wanting to remain respectful since it was, after all, her car, and she was giving me the ride.
She floored it, flying over snow for about 25 yards until I screamed, “Stop! Please. Stop the car right now. You’re about to hit a wall of something.”
“What? You mean like that stuff piled up by the side of the factory?”
“I don’t know,” I said, “Let me out, and I’ll tell you.” I climbed out of the car to find her front wheel lodged next to an old railroad tie, which we later discovered had a four inch rusty screw pointing directly at her tire. I still don’t know how that thing didn’t shred her tire, because without some kind of Divine Intervention, she would have had a flat, in addition to packed snow so far under the car that the back right wheel no longer touched even the elevated ground. She wanted to press forward, but then a train started barreling towards us. Fortunately, we were about two feet to the right of the tracks, but yes, stuck. She could not pull forward, due to not just this one railroad tie, but a haphazard pile of other ties with equally sharp metal extensions. She could not back up, because the car was pretty much levitating on over a foot of compacted snow.
The other passenger and I tried to push, and I prayed for help. Immediately, I got the message, “Get a shovel and call the police.” The train drove so slowly by (probably because of us) that for a moment I thought the engineer might stop the train and help us push. No such luck. I prayed again. “Get a shovel and call the police” ran across my brain. [Note: David, though only a few blocks away, was already fast asleep with his phone turned off. Unlike me, he can sleep through anything, so he wasn’t an option even if I had called my home office line.]
We got back in the car and I asked if she had a shovel in her trunk for emergencies. Nope. AAA? Uh-uh. Late night male friends? No. “OK,” I said, “I really think we should call the police, but let’s try a group prayer and push first, since I know you don’t want me to call them.” They looked at me funny, but we gave it a whirl. As in whirling tires going nowhere and the same “Get a shovel, call the police” message running through my brain when I called upon angels and anyone else who wanted to listen. My driver friend felt stupid and was afraid she’d get a ticket, so I said I’d try one last thing … creating a beacon signal to see if someone might drive by to help. I tuned in and got the same message, “Get a shovel and call the police.”
“OK,” I said, “if I arrange things so that you don’t get a ticket, do I have your permission to call the police and ask them for help? And are you really telling me that not one of your young, able-bodied male friends lives near here and owns a shovel?” That triggered something, and she called her friend while I called 911, explaining how “this is not an emergency, feel free to put me on hold.” I said we would be happy to call a tow truck if need be, but that we were three women, under 120 pounds each and that if we had even one or two reasonably sized guys, I felt sure we could get unstuck. They agreed to send a free officer out since they weren’t busy.
While waiting, I suggested my driver friend put on her flashers. She called her local friend again to see his whereabouts and learned he was walking, so it might take awhile. We waited and waited and waited, huddled under our blankets we’d brought for “furniture.” Let’s just say, I was very grateful for my Cuddl Dud’s and arm warmers! We finally saw someone walking towards us on the railroad tracks — hobbling through the snow with some sort of large instrument that we hoped was the requested shovel carried by her friend, rather than a crowbar wielded by some drunk with ill intent. Her friend arrived and said, “Thank God you put on your flashers! My cell phone died, and if you hadn’t had those on, I never would have found you.”
We began to dig under the car, but that ice was so hard, we made only a little progress before a squad car arrived. The very nice officer drove up on the other — clear — side of the tracks and offered to help rock the car out. We all pushed and he steered, and I remembered to ask angelic protection so I wouldn’t hurt myself. Everyone else fell multiple times, but my feet seemed to find solid support each time. No one else got hurt, but I didn’t even fall. Thanks, angels.
I kept hearing in my head, “You’ve got the shovel. Now use it!” The officer had by now taken on the main leadership role, which did not involve shoveling out the car, so this voice in my head was a bit of an inconvenience. By this time, though, my toes were getting really cold standing in my fashion (i.e. not Gortex hiking) boots in the snow. “Enough, already,” I thought to myself “… What’s it gonna take to get this car outta here in the next two minutes?” I was “told” to tell the officer to stop his rocking for a few moments, and then I took some strategic hits at the ice with the shovel. Inner guidance told me exactly where to whack, until the officer wanted to try again. I wasn’t finished yet, but I deferred. Still stuck.
I pleaded with my inner guidance and whatever guardian angels wanted to jump in, “Just show me what needs to move,” and was immediately shown to whack one final piece of ice and remove it. I did so, and the car leapt backwards. The police officer reversed that thing the 25 yards in about 30 seconds flat, and my driver friend asked if she could give him a hug. (No, someone might see, but he appreciated the offer and wished us well.)
So, off we went to my house, four blocks of eternity away. If it hadn’t been nearly midnight on deserted railroad tracks in a situation where we would have needed to either abandon the car or leave one of us alone in a vulnerable position, I could have easily walked home to bring a shovel.
What’s funny is that not five minutes before this adventure, my new friends had asked, “What happens if someone calls you for an intuitive session and they don’t like what you say?”
“Oh,” I said, “sometimes that happens. I’ll warn someone not to force a certain path, to turn back or change course, because the one they’re on is going nowhere. Sometimes they fight me and try to manipulate me into telling them what they want to hear, but I won’t lie to them.”
“So, do they hang up on you?”
“No, not usually, but I don’t hear from them for awhile.”
“But you do hear from them eventually?”
“Oh, yeah. It might be 6 months, or 5, 10 years, but I’ll get a call or email out of the blue telling me how angry I made them. How they were so furious with what I said that they rejected everything about me and did whatever they wanted and I refused to endorse. They’ll go on reaming me out for awhile and then they get kind of sheepish. It gets quiet for a bit .. and then they say, ‘So, well, it turns out you were right, and now I need your help.’”
“And then what happens? Is it a one time session and you fix it?”
“Well, no, the one time session would have helped them to avoid it. Once they’re stuck, things get more complicated and can take longer to reverse. It’s more difficult to reverse when you’ve gone further on the path.”
It turned out to be a fun adventure, and no one was hurt. These women didn’t know me at all to know that I’m the “possibilities” and “shift your reality” person — that if even I say, “Whoa, this road is going nowhere,” it’s probably not just a Nervous Nellie caution. We had a good chuckle, though, especially when her helpful guy friend shared that just before she called him he’d said to himself, “You know, I really need to start working out more. What kind of exercise am I going to do this late at night?”
Careful what you wish for!