by Lee Carroll
The films played on and on. Lunch was not offered, since at some level the great angel in the back of the room knew that Mike would not be hungry. She was right. Each time a reel was finished, there would be a temporary flapping sound, and the room would go dark. There would follow an awkward silence, broken only by the sound of levers being engaged and switches being moved on the projection equipment. Neither Michael nor Violet said a word. Then, the screen would come to life again and carry on with the worst things that had ever happened to Mike. He knew, as the films played, that the “big event” was closing in. Then, it was there in front of him—the day his parents were killed.
Mike knew that he didn’t have to stay in the chair if he really didn’t want to. All the angels had told him that he had a choice. Right now, he wanted to run. In his mind, he begged “loudly” enough for all the angels to hear him. Please God...I don’t want to experience this again! Enough is enough! It came anyway, and Mike felt like a truck had hit him.
Mike didn’t break down and cry in his chair. He would wait until later that night. He sat stoically watching the play that was his life go forward in real time. He relived the phone call, the shock, the funeral, the grief, and the sorrow; the auction of the house, barn, and land; and the sale of his father’s farm equipment, including the old tractor. He relived going through his mom and dad’s things, the photos of better times, the pictures of their wedding, even some of their love letters to each other when they were falling in love. Mike sat very still and tried to escape his feelings. He disciplined his mind to make a wall for his emotions but felt victimized as he sat in the chair. He felt the involuntary convulsions of grief try to come in waves, sweeping through his body; he was aching to let out his sorrow in a burst of tears and anguish. The presentation was flawless, and its reality was a curse. This was the hardest thing he had ever been asked to do. Everything he had seen for hours and hours had made him the butt of a very bad joke. Now he was being punished and persecuted in this room! It wasn’t fair. Where was the purpose in all this?
He breathed a sigh of relief when the death episode was over. Nothing could be worse than that. Mike felt very small. He was drenched in sweat and weary of the process. Still, the subject matter was commanding. He couldn’t stop watching. It was so real!
When he saw “Cricket,” his nickname for Shirley, he knew he was in trouble again. The next story to unfold was that of his final love affair in Los Angeles—and how it had gone sour so fast. He had thrown himself completely into it, and Cricket had treated it so lightly. It wasn’t death, but it could have been, for it was the death of his heart. Again, he tried to harden his heart as he watched the images on the screen. She looked so good! Her voice was so memorable. The situation was still so recent. After all, it had been the reason for his recent depression, his lack of self-worth, and his crummy job. Mike watched all of it, reliving the details of the second most depressing incident in his life. The episodes moved forward to his workplace, highlighting his verbally abusive manager, and showing the claustrophobic cubicle he had so willingly worked in when he lived in Los Angeles.
The films ended at four o’clock; the last scenes were of the break-in and robbery of his apartment, ending with him being taken to the hospital. When the screen went blank, he heard the flapping noise that signaled the end of another reel. A piece of leader was being beaten ragged against the take-up reel. The flapping continued, but the lights did not come on. Mike stood up and, placing his hand over his forehead in salute style, shielded his eyes against the light of the raw projector bulb to see if Violet was still there in the back of the room. She was not. It marked the end of the lesson for that day—the end of the movie. As in the subject matter of the film, Mike was alone.
With the projector still flapping, Mike moved out of the room and into the hallway of the house, then to his quarters. He didn’t need to eat dinner either. He was depressed. He had been beaten to a pulp emotionally, and he instantly fell into bed, fully clothed. Violet never appeared to say good night. Mike knew that it was a wise angel who left him alone that night. He was in no mood to talk.
Michael’s dreams continued showing the film as he slept. They reran the part about the bully, his parents, and Cricket. They would not leave him alone, and he finally let go, sobbing uncontrollably into his pillow. Visions of his parents, so alive and vibrant, made his sorrow all the worse. It was the second time in this sacred, angelic, anointed land that Michael felt completely alone and black—a victim of life. And now he even had the movies to prove it!
IN THE MORNING, Mike felt a bit more rested, but pensive. He was hungry, too, and easily consumed a large breakfast. He still felt victimized from the day before, but somehow had convinced himself that the worst was over. He was tough, and although he didn’t understand why all this was necessary, he had decided that it was not going to let him again slip into blackness and depression. Whatever awaited him today had to be better.
After breakfast Mike got dressed. New violet clothing had been magically provided, replacing the clothes he had slept in, and he was again ready. Violet appeared at the open doorway and was quiet. It was as if she were giving Mike space to react and say whatever he needed to say, or to chastise her for the painful experience of yesterday. Michael knew she was there. She watched him for a while then finally spoke.
“Michael Thomas of Pure Intent, is there anything you wish to say, or ask?”
“Yes.” Michael was stoic. “Are there more films?”
“Yes,” Violet replied softly.
“Then let’s get to it.” Michael stood and waited for her to move.
Violet was surprised. The angel’s experience with humans in this house had never been like this. Green was right. This one was special. He might make it. He might be among the few to go all the way. She had never seen such resolve and vibrational shift so quickly. She felt special to be part of his training, and she loved him greatly. Violet turned and led Michael once again to the theater.
Mike knew the drill. He took his place in the big, violet, padded front seat of the theater, like a prisoner in the electric chair, waiting for the electricity to start flowing—or in this case, for the lights to go down and the movie to start. Mike was resolute with purpose and determination. Nothing would keep him from going home. NOTHING!
Again Mike’s life unfolded before him on film, starting with his childhood. This time it was different. He quickly saw the subject matter had changed. This time he titled the film “All the Bad Things I Did in Life.” The childhood episodes were funny, and Mike laughed heartily at many of them. It felt good to laugh, but his ribs were still sore from all the intense crying of the previous night.
As his age increased in the movies, some of the things he had done that were gloriously displayed began to embarrass him. Certainly, Violet knew of these things, but he didn’t want to relive them. He found himself sliding down in the chair as they played out. He cringed and felt uncomfortable.
There he was in church at age ten, making fun of the preacher and passing notes that had silly, obscene drawings on them of crude body parts. He and his buddies in Sunday School had felt it very funny indeed to draw these things, and then place them in collection baskets, stuffed into the folders meant for dollar bills. They could just see the faces of the “blue hairs,” the older women who opened the folders and counted the money. They laughed and laughed.
At age 12, Mike sneaked out and started his dad’s tractor one Sunday morning when his parents were away at church. Mike had feigned illness and had been allowed to remain home. The tractor started okay, but Mike didn’t understand how to make it move; he tried every lever and pedal in frustration. He didn’t understand how a manual transmission worked, thinking it was like the family car with a pedal for GO and one for STOP. Lots of loud sounds ensued, and in the process of his tractor adventure, he ruined the transmission.
When his dad found the problem, he came in to face Mike. He asked his son for the absolute truth.
&n
bsp; “Mike, did you try to start and drive the tractor?”
“No, sir.” Mike lied to his dad.
Mike was ashamed of it then and now. His father somehow knew, and Mike could see it in his eyes. It was one of those times that had taught Mike what it felt like to violate the integrity of the family. It didn’t feel good, and Mike remembered it all his life. The repair bill had been great, and Mike had his first realization of what his foolishness had cost his parents. They ate Spam and beans for weeks after that, trying to recover from the unexpected expense. Every time they sat down for dinner,Mike got to see the results of his folly and literally tasted his lie for some time. Now, he experienced it again—in living color and 3D. He sank farther into his chair. Again, it seemed so real!
As Mike grew taller, he got stronger. In the school system of the day, most students transferred together from school to school as long as their parents lived in the same districts. Therefore, Henry, the “bully” of Mike’s grade school days, came along with this package. While elementary school was one scenario, the bully wasn’t so big when he got to high school. Most of the other boys’ bodies had caught up with the bully’s early growth, and the adolescent playing field was more level. Henry the bully didn’t do well in school and just barely managed to graduate. Michael took every advantage he could to make Henry’s school life miserable. He used his height and popularity as an intimidation tool, often taunting him personally or threatening him with harm.
As class president in his junior year, Mike used his power to exclude this former tough guy from everything good. He wielded his influence like a pro, and the ruffian of the past was denied many good things—from admittance to proms to elective subjects he was obviously good at. Mike never told anyone what he had done, but delighted in anything he could do to ruin the boy’s high school years. Although Henry knew what was happening, he couldn’t do anything about it. Later he was able to extract revenge, but Mike wasn’t to know about it until now as he sat in his chair watching it all unfold. It had been Henry who had smeared him in his senior year! Henry had successfully started the damaging rumors that ruined his chances to become senior-class president.
Later in real life, Mike had learned that as a man, Henry had become a thug and was now in prison. Mike often wondered if things would have been different if Henry had been left alone during his high school years. Mike felt ashamed of what he had done, as he now watched it unfold again.
Mike was feeling stupid. This was a long movie about how bad he had been, how unethical his early years had become. He might have even hurt a man’s chances at life! Mike felt very small, indeed. He continued to watch.
In his senior year, Mike had actually cheated on a test. He had a great grade point average, but was poor in U.S. history. He blamed a boring teacher for the problem, then proceeded to lift the test in advance using a key he had kept and made a copy of as class president the previous year. Mike felt it was poetic justice, and he vividly remembered how he had already been “punished” for this act when he hadn’t actually done it in grade school. Therefore, it was somehow okay in his mind.
It got worse. As fate would have it, the teacher spotted Mike’s instant improvement and accused him of exactly what he had done. Mike, using his charismatic personality, record of good grades in other classes, and previous reputation, blasted the teacher to the administration and got him reprimanded. It stayed in the teacher’s file and might have kept him from advancing. Mike hadn’t known that either until now as he sat in the big padded chair.
Damn! This is painful. Being victimized by life is bad enough; watching yourself lie and cheat is worse. Mike didn’t want to see any more and wished it would all stop.
It did. There was very little, if anything, for Mike to see as a grown-up. His whole life had changed when his parents had died. Their deaths had made him grow up fast and awakened in him the steadfast integrity that he now claimed as an adult. It was almost as if he carried the family name on his sleeve, and all his parents’ hard work with it. Mike breathed a great sigh of relief when he again heard the flapping of the last leader against the take-up reel. This time, the projector was stopped, and the lights came on gently. Violet approached him from the rear of the room.
“Michael, please come with me,” she said gently.
Without speaking, Mike did as he was asked. He felt weary as he arose from the chair, having spent so many hours there! He hoped that he would never see it again, and he loathed this place where the films of his life were shown. He looked in the back where the projector was as he was led out of the room. He expected to see dozens of reels of film stacked everywhere from the last two days of viewing, but there were none. The area was clean and clear.
Violet was the kindest entity Mike had ever known. It’s not that she was better than Blue; Orange; or even than his angel buddy, Green. She was different. Each angel had endearing qualities that Michael loved. This one emanated care and concern. Mike wanted to stay here and live under her umbrella of parental peace! It felt wonderful to sit across from her and listen to her speak. All was well as long as she was there. This feeling was not lost on Mike. He realized that this was the feeling of being a child and of having no responsibility. It was fitting, therefore, that her countenance was in the house of responsibility. Here was the parent, and Mike was the child again, feeling a release from life.
Violet took Mike into a large room. In any other circumstance, you could say it was a conference room, but in this case it only had two chairs. There was a display board of some kind on one wall and many symbols and charts on the others.
In the other houses, the angels hadn’t spent so much time sitting. Since there was no fatigue for them and no need for sleep, they didn’t need to sit down as humans did. Usually it was only to make the human comfortable, as in this case. Violet gracefully took a seat and faced Michael.
“Michael Thomas of Pure Intent, how do you feel?” She had opened the conversation with a question that would allow Mike to vent his feeling of the last day’s theater viewing. He did and accompanied it with something that he had thought much about the evening before.
“Violet, oh precious one.” Mike really loved this great caring angel. “I know that you cannot willingly hurt a human being. I know that it is not in your angelic consciousness to cause pain, suffering, doubt, or fear; but by showing these films, you have done all of these things, so I know there must be a fine reason for it all. How do I feel?”
Mike paused and thought for some time, trying to be totally honest about his emotions over these last few days.
“Violated,” he paused again. “Horrible, victimized, saddened by my own failings, guilty about what I have done, angry at those who did things to me, devastated by the grief caused by circumstances beyond my control, beat up, introspective.” Mike continued to pour out his heart to Violet. There was very little emotion, since it had been wrung from him during the previous night. Instead, Mike was trying his best to really tell Violet what his human side was feeling. The words kept coming, and then he started repeating himself. Violet didn’t ask him to stop. His catharsis was beginning to run out of steam. He had expressed himself, complained about it all, then complained again. He never asked why he was shown the films. Intuitively, he knew that Violet would let him know this. He was right.
When he had finished, he needed water. Somehow, it had been provided for him. He took a drink and made a gesture to his silent companion, showing that he was finished with his discourse. Violet arose and began her gentle lecture.
“Michael,” she looked deep within his soul with a caring intensity that he absolutely knew was from the mind of God. “As a human training for home, this is the last time you will ever feel any of these things.” She let him think about that for a moment as she stood up and went over to a seemingly blank wall. She pulled down a chart that had been rolled up like a scroll and mounted at the top of the wall near the ceiling. It reminded Mike of how maps are displayed in classrooms, then rolled up to
allow the chalkboard to be used. On the chart was writing. The writing was the same strange Arabic-looking script that he had seen on the labels in the House of Maps. He couldn’t read any of it.
“I am here to explain that you, and all the others in your life, carefully planned the potential for everything you have just seen in the ‘Theater of Life’ for the two past days.” Mike let that sink in. He didn’t really understand how this could be.
“Planned it?”
“Yes.”
“That couldn’t be. There were accidents, coincidences, things that just happened, hundreds of factors that created chance.”Mike paused.
“You planned it with the others, Mike.”
“How?”
“Michael Thomas, you already know that you are an eternal entity. You are here seeking permission and training to go home—a place of sacredness—where you feel there will be answers, peace, and purpose, according to your own definition. What is hidden from you is that you have been on Earth many times before and have walked in the shoes of many human beings of different sizes and types. This time you are Michael Thomas.”
Mike knew of the idea of past lives, but here it was being verified again by one he trusted. He accepted it, and marveled at the thought.
Violet continued, “When you are not on Earth, lessons for your next incarnation are planned for you by the only one who knows what you need—YOU!You and the others set up potentials for your learning. Some agreed to poke and prod you. Some agreed to be the sand in your oyster for years! Some agreed to partner with you, and yes, Michael, some agreed to die early within their contract, to help facilitate your needs as well as theirs.”
Mike was overwhelmed by this information.
“Violet, my parents? —They knew?”
“Not only did you ALL know, Michael, but this was the greatest gift you ever received in your life.” Violet’s eyes were compassionate beyond anything Mike had ever known. She knew so much about him! She was ready to explain everything, expected much of the emotion, and was ready for all the questions. She was amazing.