by J.R. Bowles
CHAPTER 65
John closed the hotel door a little harder than he had anticipated. Its sound made his tired nerves jump. He flipped on the light, walked into the room and tossed his briefcase on the bed.
At least they hadn't given him the same room as the one he had before. Too much had happen in this hotel and he wished he had stayed somewhere else but that hadn't been very practical. When the others arrived back in New York it would be easier for them to find him here.
Michael had made him promise when he got back that he would stay with him at his uptown house. He told him he would for a few days but he needed to get back to Florida soon, he had been away too long.
John flopped down in an arm chair. He was to wound up, to do anything else and too tired to sleep.
He stared at the textured wallpaper thinking about what had happen. He ran his hand through his hair and felt the sweat and oil lying thick around the follicles.
What had gone wrong? He had been above his body looking down and had made his choice. He couldn't figure out what had happen. By all rights he should be dead.
He shrugged and rubbed his tired eyes. His mind was so fatigued he couldn't remember when he had last slept.
When he had returned to the Hotel Roanoke he had felt relief to find that the Coast Guard had called and left a message. They said they had just a few minor details and they would sign the proposal. He was glad they called. He wasn't ready to talk to the others about what had taken place.
He shook his head. He just couldn't figure out why the world was still here. After everything Lamb had read to them last night his choice had seemed clear.
The world and all people just didn't seem to be worth saving. Not just worth saving, he thought, it didn't seem possible that all the problems that exist could be corrected.
He had chosen Michael, figuring that he was the good and that the universe should collapse and start again. He had felt certain it was right.
Then why were they still here? John leaned his head back in the chair and stared up at the ceiling. He blinked several times in succession trying to ease their sting.
Had he been wrong to assume good wanted everything to start over? He just didn't know. What was he to do now?
Maybe they were supposed to work to correct the problems? Could that possibly be the answer?
When he had been expanded to the complete God consciousness, when he was aware of everything that existed, he thought he was going crazy. The fragmentation of seeing everything which exists for all of eternity had been overwhelming.
He looked down at his hand and clinched it into a tight fist. He could feel the power he now had and it scared him. It was like everything that existed was part of his body and it responded the way his hand did. As if it was automatic.
He stared at the pack of Camel cigarettes he had bought in the airport. He didn't smoke but he had this peculiar craving that made him purchase them.
The pack of cigarettes lifted into the air as John gazed at them and floated within John's grasp. One cigarette worked its way out of the pack and toward John's lips. The pack returned to the table where they had been before.
As John sat there with the cigarette between his lips, it lit itself. He inhaled deeply from its non-filter and exhaled. Reaching up to retrieve it between his fingers, he stared down at the glowing ash. He pursed his lips and spit out a small sliver of tobacco from his tongue. Why was he smoking? He inhaled again feeling the nicotine soar into his blood stream taking the bite off of his tired raw nerves.
“Thank you God for this cigarette.” He half joked aloud. “This is my Body, this is my Blood.”
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NOTE FROM AUTHOR: I call this chapter 66…some may know why. Probably not worth the extra scrolling to read this. Hope you managed to finish The Seventh Chakra and enjoyed it.
I tried to publish this book many years ago, the old way. This book was written in 1992, along with a few others. I really tried to get it published then but had little to no luck.
I came close but you know what they say about close. That’s another book unto itself. The original title was: “WAITING FOR THE MESSIAH: THE CHAKRA CENTERS” then I changed it, after the advice of an agent, who suggested the title; THE AVATAR. Obviously, I could no longer keep that title. It’s been over used. LOL
Most of my many rejections were: It’s not “politically correct,” or sacrilegious, or I was trying to start a new religion. Any similarity to anyone living or dead was an accident.
I stuck it on a shelf for years. And finally decided with the help of a scanner I would revive some life energy into it. Scanners are like people interpret things they want not the way it is. Must be perspective…grin.
I caught quite a few errors in the doing, and made a couple changes for grammar’s sake. I had some problems with organizing the bulk of it back into cohesive sense. Pages were stuck together, chapters duplicated. I hope I got it all. Obviously sites and phones have changed, and then there is GPS now. This book is not intended for those with strong religious beliefs or those under 17. If I offended you in any way I apologize. It’s just a book. Get over it. If you read this I hope you enjoyed. I know there are lots of errors. I have read and read it. Each time something smacks me in the face. It hasn’t drawn much attention, although I have sold and given away a few. Twenty years ago was when it had its power. Now it is just a watered down mishmash.
I have had several positives remarks. “I liked it…or good book…but…lots of errors…hundreds of errors…so bad I had trouble finishing it...” Negative remarks usually don’t draw enough effort to tell me about them. Believe me if I could afford it I would get a ‘real’ book doctor to work on it but I have also come to the conclusion it wasn’t the “MASTERPIECE” my mind convinced me it to be.
Now, if you want to be a writer in digital print, chance is you may make a few bucks a month and I mean very few. Don’t do it for the money. Let me say it’s a thrill to know somebody liked it or hated it. It’s a bragging right.
I was stationed on Governors Island when I started writing this book, by hand. My wife and family were in South Florida and I would go to the ‘club’ and drink at night. That got old fast after staggering back to the barracks a ‘few’ nights. Anyway, sitting in a room alone at night I wrote or should I say scribbled. My handwriting is so bad teachers used to give me the “special” books for practice. They hated me. The Seventh Chakra took me a year and a half to write. Believe it or not I had an agent then. She was really great. Her name was Pamela Paris. I’m not sure if that name was a pseudo name or not; she tried hard to help and gave lots of advice. But as for the errors, I keep plugging away. So even if you want to rub my nose in the errors, tell me it sucked or whatever I truly would like to hear from you. How about the philosophy of the book? What did you think? Any comments?
Questions or corrections send to: [email protected]