by Jane Weiss
The guides’ answer to my question about Bonnie corroborated the sense I had about our beautiful friendship and its great importance to my spiritual journey. I was amazed to learn about Bonnie’s and my deep connection, and that we had made a “pact” to find each other. Our agreement explained how instantly we had bonded and how constant her support had been:
You have the ability to inspire one another in love, the ability to understand spiritual truths that are beyond the comprehension of many. Therefore, as you are with her, it reinforces your belief in your ability to know a deeper truth. It stimulates you to continue to question all beliefs. In this lifetime, you have believed the strength of your love was for naught, and that love was a figment of your imagination. But as this one has come near, she is fulfilling a promise she made in another lifetime to come to you now: When there was a stifling of your soul’s growth, she would awaken within you the knowledge that you can love.
In response to my question about my relationship with Charles, they said:
You have worked diligently to be totally receptive to his soul, so that you could experience a deeper fulfillment from love. But with him, you have experienced only a portion of this love. Therefore, there are many areas of change and instability within this relationship. You now need to hold onto the vision of the beauty of your soul, knowing that many love you, and that this one shall continue as your partner, until you have chosen to make a movement—an inner movement that will open many areas within you that need a greater love. You shall move beyond the limits you have placed on yourself.
This portion confused me and sounded a bit ominous, but I thought over time, I would come to understand what the guides were telling me. They closed with this beautiful blessing:
You need in this moment to understand that you are a child of God. You are a soul of great preciousness. You have the ability to touch others, to heal, to inspire, to uplift. We surround you now with love. We anoint you with the oil of love. And we say that in your movement in this time, you shall overcome all areas of challenge. Hold to the truth. Hold to love. And for this time, it is ended.
This was the God connection I had searched for from my childhood. The shell of my early beliefs had cracked, allowing light to expose the self-deprecating dogma that had kept me separated from my soul’s wisdom and power. I had been preparing myself to launch headlong into a journey towards the God within.
By the time I met Bonnie in 1980, I was ripe for the immersion into metaphysical beliefs and universal understandings that she and our friend Felicia brought to me. And now this reading with Dr. Scolastico crystallized those learnings by opening and speaking to my heart through the power of love.
Hold to Truth; Hold to Love
Over the next few days, I considered what the guides had said about Charles and my relationship, and what could be interpreted as our potential separation. They seemed to be implying that, despite my efforts to improve our relationship, I had not found it fulfilling for me. That was true. Just two years before, after a dismal attempt to reconnect with Charles at a Marriage Encounter retreat, I had given up on romantic love, or even a meaningful relationship with him—for when we were expected to be writing heartfelt letters to each other, he made a cursory attempt at writing, and then headed out to the car to listen to a ball game. At a ceremony to culminate the weekend’s events, every couple but us had chosen to renew their vows. I was devastated that he didn’t want to or couldn’t open his heart to me, and was embarrassed by his public refusal to recommit to our relationship.
I wondered then how long it would be before he would leave me, and determined that, with four children and no adequate means of supporting them, I would find a way to be content with whatever relationship I had. I resigned myself to quietly wait and see what would happen.
So the guides’ idea of my initiating not being with Charles hadn’t entered my consciousness; in fact, the opposite was true: I had been worried that he was considering leaving me. However, I decided that whatever the guides meant would unfold in due time and that I would have the fortitude to deal with it. Bonnie, Felicia, and I—at our Wednesday night study group—briefly discussed this point, along with the volume of other fascinating information from the guides. Felicia explained that we had just begun to understand the full meaning of the guides’ messages, and that for months—even years to follow—we would continue gleaning support from the words of these wise ones.
Suspecting the reading could fuel Charles’s just-below-the-surface anger at me, I still decided not to withhold anything from him and to share the reading with him, if he wanted. I wasn’t there to see his immediate reaction, but not long afterward, I assumed Charles confided in our son Michael, and was using him to attempt to discredit the guides’ information. Michael confronted me at the family dinner table, asking why I went to see a psychic. I briefly explained that I was open to new experiences, particularly those that helped me understand myself and deepen my relationship to God. I noticed Michael and his dad exchanging furtive glances. Sensing this was a set-up, I requested that Michael and I have a conversation alone after dinner.
As Michael and I sat alone on the front step, he implored, “Mom, I’m worried that what you’re involved with is a cult. The Bible warns us about people who profess they are able to contact spirits. They use this to ‘flatter and beguile’ us, to entice us away from Christ’s truth.”
He went on for some time, reciting all the beliefs I once held. How could I refute what he so strongly believed, and what I had taught him? Didn’t he need to find his own way?
So rather than defend my new beliefs, I said, “Michael, I appreciate that you care enough to want to talk to me about this. I understand why you’re concerned. I had misgivings about opening myself to this sort of thing, too. But I’m at a time of my life when I need to question all of my beliefs and to carefully search for answers, and sometimes that’s in unorthodox places.”
“Yes, but where you’re searching is not safe.” He was becoming agitated.
I reached over, took both his hands into mine, and looking into his eyes, I said gently and firmly, “You’ll have to trust that I know what’s best for me, son.”
Michael sighed, stood up, and went back into the house. I watched his now-six-foot-five frame move through the doorway, and was catapulted back to his childhood.
Nearly ten pounds at his birth, Michael needed a big body to house his largesse of heart and charismatic spirit. He was a delightful gentle giant of a baby who laughed and cried easily, and readily engaged me with his facile expressions and bright brown eyes. Throughout his childhood, his large size made him look older than his years, so he bore the burden of people expecting him to act more grown up than he was. Instead of rebelling, Michael cleverly capitalized on the older-wiser status granted to him, and assumed leadership roles in whatever he engaged himself. He liked music and performing, so he learned how to play a guitar—even with his huge paws—and eventually at age fifteen, performed for pay in a nearby pizza parlor. On occasion, he invited me up to the stage to harmonize with him, and seemed so proud and pleased that we could do that together.
Once the mother he admired and looked up to, I now felt ashamed, and for a short time, I saw the reading’s experience as “evil cloaked in brilliance.” This whole incident was upsetting to me. I didn’t want my changes to negatively affect my children or our relationships. In fact, I had intentionally kept my spiritual learnings to myself, knowing they conflicted with what our older children were being taught in church and in confirmation classes.
I left the house so no one would see me my emotional state, and drove around for about an hour to clear my thinking. By the time I returned, I had reaffirmed to myself that I would continue on my search for spiritual meaning—that what I had been experiencing felt truer, more believable, and full of more goodness than any previous “religious” experiences. I would hold to truth as I saw it, and to love, rather than respond to fear.
I was furious at Ch
arles for sharing information with Michael that should have been discussed with me. Had he let Michael read the entire reading transcription? When I confronted Charles about this, he skirted the issue by hurling questions at me. I was all too familiar with his tactic of using offense as his best defense. I was becoming alarmed about his behaviors—first reading my journal, and now using our oldest son to try to shame me into dropping my avid search.
After meditating and praying to center myself, I determined that I would do whatever I could to allay Charles’s fears, short of changing my direction. Since the focus of his fears appeared to be Bonnie, perhaps if Charles could spend some time with her and her husband, as well as Felicia and hers, he could put his suspicions into perspective and relax.
Within the next few weeks, I planned an evening dinner party to precede all of us attending Michael’s opening night for Bye Bye Birdie, his high school play in which he had the lead role. We would come back after the play for dessert and to rehash Michael’s performance. Everyone was able to attend; this was a good omen. Even though Charles fussed that I was putting too much energy into preparation (as he usually did), by the time everyone arrived, he had transformed into a gracious host. The event appeared to be going well, and with nearly five hours together, I was pleased Charles was animated and involved with all of our guests the entire evening.
However, as our guests were preparing to leave, his performance took a negative turn. As we walked both couples down to their cars, Charles put his arm around me and announced that we would probably be moving to New York towards the end of the year. This was news to me. I sensed he was using it for shock value. Was he trying to see how I, or even Bonnie, might respond? I didn’t take the bait - not in front of them.
After they pulled away, Charles and I sat down next to each other on the slight incline of the grassy parkway in front of our home. The sultry evening’s air between us was filled with tension.
“Charles, I can’t believe you’d spring an issue on me like moving to New York. Whatever posessed you to do that?”
He was silent, and stared straight ahead.
“Won’t you even answer me? I don’t get it.” Irritated with his childish, recalcitrant behavior, I started to get up, but he quickly grabbed hold of my upper arms and forcefully kissed me.
“Is this how Bonnie kisses you? You need to stay away from her.” He sneered, his face inches from mine.
I was stunned. My face was flushed with anger and embarassment. “You are so wrong about Bonnie!” I shouted at him. “I’m tired of your sick accusations.” I jerked away my shoulders to loosen his grip on my arms, stood up, and bolted into the house. Fourtunately, the kids hadn’t witnessed this exchange. Our older son was still at his post production party for the play we had all attended that evening. The two middle ones were watching television downstairs, and the youngest was already in bed. I numbly walked into the kitchen and halfheartedly began rinsing the stacks of dirty dishes.
Tonight, I was grateful that Charles repeated our usual post-party ritual. He headed for the bedroom to read the paper, while I cleared, washed the dishes, and put away leftovers, crying and feeling grossly misunderstood. I had hoped that if Bonnie and her husband could spend some time with us, Charles would put his mounting concerns about Bonnie’s and my friendship to rest.
But things were getting worse—the gap between my husband and me was widening. Could he be partly right? Was Bonnie becoming too emotionally important to me? Or was Charles, in his fear, interpreting our relationship as physical?
I called Bonnie the next day to debrief what had transpired regarding both Charles’s announcement and his behavior after she had left. She was astonished, and advised me to try to reduce his apprehension by our not spending time together for a while.
After careful and prayerful thought, I reasserted to myself that I was becoming more confident about who I was and what I needed in my life. I felt alive and exhilarated with this part of my journey. As this was threatening to Charles, he was stepping up his efforts to control me. His attempts to exert his power over me were feeding my determination to do what I believed was best, rather than concede to his fears.
Disregarding his dictum, I resumed my regular activities with Bonnie and became engrossed in the end-of-summer ritual of clothes shopping with each of the kids to prepare them to start school. It was a welcomed diversion.
Late September Gathering Storm
As our Sweet Adeline group lingered after practice, clustered in small, animated groups catching up on personal news, Betty, who had left just a few minutes earlier, ran back wide-eyed into the room, and breathlessly announced: “There’s a strange man out there sitting in his car drinking. He’s wearing a weird hat and checking out everyone who leaves the building. We should all go out together and head straight to our cars.” Bonnie and I decided not to risk our usual ritual of sitting in the parking lot in one car or the other, talking until the dawn’s break.
I walked quickly to my car, disappointed that the evening had come to such an abrupt end. But I was grateful we weren’t alone because there in a beat-up brown car at the parking lot edge sat a man with a floppy Western-style hat, pulled down to cover half his face. I shuddered as I locked my car doors and prayed that no one would be harmed. Safely inside her car, Bonnie waved good-bye and motioned for me to pull out first.
In my rearview window, I saw the suspicious brown car pull out behind me. As I raced onto the freeway, he was still there and gaining on me. Instinctively, I pushed the accelerator down to the floor—sixty-five, seventy-five, eighty-five miles an hour over the Cedar Avenue Bridge, which was nearly deserted at 11:00 p.m. He seemed intent on overtaking me. My Chevy Citation couldn’t go any faster. I desperately prayed for a policeman to detect us speeding before I lost control. Just before my exit, he overtook me, passed, and sped up the exit ramp ahead, running a red light at the cross street.
I briefly considered not taking the exit, but desperately wanted the safety of my home. As I approached the exit ramp light, the brown car was nowhere in sight. Feeling some relief, I slowed down and continued homeward, watching for any sign of his car. My heart was still pounding as I rounded the corner to my house.
What transpired next was surreal, as if I were watching myself play out a script whose ending I knew. The same brown car was parked on the street by my home. Why didn’t I speed away and notify the police? Instead, I pulled up in my drive and ran to the door, which was partly open.
The house felt eerie as I cautiously made my way to the kitchen phone. As I dialed the police, Charles ambled down the darkened hallway from our bedroom, in his underwear and with a drink in his hand.
He calmly said, “Jane, put the phone down. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
My face flushed, and I thought I might faint.
“It was you!” I backed up to the counter and braced myself, searching his face to understand his motives. I was glad he didn’t answer, and instead, returned to the bedroom.
He was the man in the parking lot. He’d driven the brown car that he must have rented expressly for this purpose. He was spying on me, and he was drunk. We both could have died in that chase. What would have become of our children? Embarrassed for him, and suspecting that I had somehow driven him to behave this way, I didn’t bring it up again—nor did he.
I learned later that Bonnie was so frightened that she went straight home and asked Brian to drive back with her to my house to make sure I was all right. From the street outside, she saw Charles and me in the kitchen, and knew I was relatively safe.
This escalation in Charles’s anger felt ominous and revealed a dark side I feared might become even more dangerous to me and to Bonnie.
Growing Confusion
Although Bonnie and I were still unable to broach to each other the possibility of our love becoming more than a deep friendship, we questioned it individually in our journals. From my journal September 30:
I woke up longing for Bonnie. Longing
for what—to hold her? What would satisfy my longing for her? God help me not to twist your love or distort it. And even more, help me not to pull away in fear of its intensity. I’m so afraid of these feelings for her, that I’m nearly immobilized. Nothing else seems important. Is this what Dr. Scolastico has brought me?
What am I to learn from this? God, please give me perspective. Let me see what I am to do next—soon—because I’m not here for anyone, and I feel so alone and frightened. Give me peace, I pray.
Over the course of the day, I determined that my intense desire to be with Bonnie would of course be defined as physical because this was how I’ve interpreted love feelings in the past. Intense love feelings are a gift that needs to be shared, and when it is only shared with one, it causes discomfort.
To remedy my situation, I flung myself headlong into “spreading God’s love around” by directing healing energies to others through prayer, sometimes with Bonnie, but most often by myself. I stepped up my efforts to find work and connected with a group of individuals who were developing metaphysically-based wellness programs for nursing home residents. My jogging, now a mainstay for mental health, became a time for profound meditations that provided me relief and inner healing.
But the reading and its beautiful description of Bonnie’s promise to come to me when I believed that love was for naught, as well as Charles’s strident accusations and overt attempts to convince me that I was in love with Bonnie, continued to create breakthroughs in my feelings for her that I shared with no one. From my journal on October 5:
I needed to hold onto her all day today in a panicky, tense way. It didn’t feel good. It can’t be good for either of us. What strange, intense emotions for me! I’m so raw, so vulnerable. Ground me, Father. Show me a vision, a promise of love without fear of expression and caring without possessing.