Smythe smiled at her friend.
“An ear?”
She moved to her usual booth and took a seat that offered her a full view of the bakery. The baker gingerly followed behind her, sitting in the opposite banquette. He studied Smythe’s furrowed forehead, glimpsing the sorrow that darkened her eyes behind her glasses.
“Why so troubled, my friend?”
Smythe glanced in Artie’s direction. She remembered the FBI agent’s warning to tell no one what she witnessed, yet she needed to tell someone. She took in a breath.
“They tried to kill me!” She finally blurted out. With tears streaming down her face, she poured out her story.
“I’m afraid, Joao, I am so afraid. I thought—I thought, I was strong, but inside I’m quaking.”
“Hooray for you, my friend!”
Confused and somewhat incensed, Smythe retorted, “What?! Didn’t you hear me? They. Tried. To. Kill. Me! How is this a celebration?”
The baker sat very still. He gazed deeply into Smythe’s dark brown eyes and smiled.
“My friend, you are here, so they did not succeed. This is cause to celebrate. The Universe took care of you.”
Smythe flashed to the day she felt called to resign her position. After arriving home one morning, feigning illness, she struggled to figure out what she wanted out of life. After a time, she felt a question surface from the bottom of her heart that caused her spirit to stand at attention, an expanse blossoming within her. Yet, the mere presence of the question also surfaced a rolling tension. She listened again, asking for clarity. For it seemed here, in the midst of her misery, in the form of a question, was her answer.
Feeling as though pinned against a wall, she paced back and forth in front of her stove. You’re not ready, she thought. How will you survive? What will people think? What will your mother think? This is ludicrous! Yet, the question remained.
She thought about her Beloved, whose presence now overwhelmed her. She knew her Beloved had her best interest at heart, yet the question terrified her. Her response required a level of trust she was unsure she could willingly offer. No longer satisfied with the approval of others, she knew it was time to follow her soul’s calling.
The question then became, quite simply, “Will you trust me?” Smythe knew it required a response. Her head bowed low, she peered out her living room window. She mouthed a fearful “Yes,” knowing full well she was about to resign from her position.
“How did the Universe take care of me? I’m wracked with fear. My mind keeps replaying yesterday’s events. I’m unable to write, and I have armed security now in my house 24/7. This isn’t what I had in mind when I said ‘yes’ so many weeks ago to the Universe! I had other plans. I was going to write, read, learn, create. I’m taking 12 months to pull it all together, living off my savings. I thought I was doing what my Beloved wanted me to do. I took a leap of faith. Finally, I took a fucking leap of faith. And for what?! This? Why did this happen, Joao? How could this happen? I thought I was finally following my heart’s calling, and now this.”
Artie, who sat only a few tables from Smythe, could hear every word her client spoke. The level of vulnerability Smythe expressed was a far cry from what she displayed just a short time ago. This was raw and unfiltered. More importantly, she thought it offered new insight into her client’s psyche. Staring coldly out the front window, Artie’s shoulders began to stiffen. She took in a deep breath and held it for several seconds before releasing it.
“All paths are littered. You must first see, my friend, what the litter is and then turn it into treasure.”
“Well, I would call witnessing a murder and then having my own life threatened as litter!”
“It takes great courage to get up in the face of adversity. Great courage. Even more so when your physical life is in danger. Yet, here you are. You have faced the darkness and overcome.” The baker paused for a moment, searching Smythe’s eyes. “Did you not ask for this?”
“What? Ask for this?!” Smythe narrowed her eyes. “Why would I ask for this? Who would ask for this? No one in their right mind would ask for this!”
“Did you not say you heard a calling deep within you. Something that kept tapping you on your shoulder?”
“Yes, but—”
“So, the journey has begun!”
Smythe sat, stunned, her mouth agape.
“My daughter, you are so attached to the ‘how’ things should be to get the thing or experience you desire. You live in the busyness of getting on with your life, but you have forgotten to live in the present be-ing of your life.
“What do you mean, Joao?”
“You seek to become something and to live from that place. You do not understand that you are already something. There is nothing to become but who you really are. You must simply be present in each moment that comes your way. That, my, friend is be-ing. In the be-ing of your life, you will follow the path set before you. But you made a decision and believed that was it—that all would be well, didn’t you?” Not waiting for her reply, he continued.
“It is good to have a vision of what you desire. But you must also let go of how it happens by remaining in the moment of be-ing. Now, there are always, how you say… circumstances along the way, and you must always respond. That is a form of be-ing. This killing, it is litter, yes? Tell me, what is the treasure?”
“I don’t know, Joao.”
“Yes, you do. What is the treasure?”
This was not what Smythe was expecting or hoping for. She wanted a hug from her friend, comforting words, even. Instead, she was experiencing tough truths. She thought again of her mentor Philip Caulfeld. In the first chapter of his book, he discussed taking full responsibility in every area of life by managing the reaction to the events as they occurred. It was a difficult chapter for her to navigate, yet, in the end, she recognized that she had not been taking control of her responses. She had been allowing life to happen to her—making excuses, blaming, complaining, and avoiding every bad decision she made. The good that occurred, she attributed to nothing more than luck or her Beloved’s intervention. She had fallen asleep within her life, and this form of sleepwalking slowly developed insidiously over the course of her life.
“So, you’re saying I am responsible for this mess?”
“Did I?”
“How could I be? I didn’t ask to see the murder. I didn’t ask to get involved.”
“Yet you did, and here you are.”
“So, if I got cancer, I would be responsible for that, too?”
“You smoke, no?”
“Yes, but—yes.”
“I know the Universe, yet, I do not know how the Universe works. But, all things in our path may hold a treasure. What is your treasure?”
With her head bowed low, Smythe sat and reasoned with herself. She remembered all of the times she read about or watched someone engage in a heroic event. Someone who had overcome their challenges. Someone who, against all odds, stayed the course and attained their goal. She remembered the conflict as part of the hero’s journey. The hero ventured out into the unknown to obtain what they sought. They faced unexpected conflict, but ultimately triumphed over adversity. Her face softened as she recalled wishing for that same kind of courage and steadfastness. She wanted to overcome all odds and become a success story in her own life.
“Courage. I wanted courage, but it doesn’t feel like courage. It feels like fear.”
The baker beamed with delight.
“When we see people who face great struggle, we only see the action. We imagine they stood strong with this thing called courage. We imagine the person felt nothing but a conviction to do that which they were doing. Yet, my friend, we do not see the inward struggle. We do not see their fear. Think on this. I must, for a moment, tend to my creations before my other guests begin their arrival.”
Artie sat, smiling to herself. She understood only now the importance of this human in Smythe’s life.
Smythe began to refle
ct upon her responses to events great and small along her own journey.
It’s been fear. So much fear. My life, ruled by it. So afraid of taking a risk, afraid of failing. What had Philip said? “Fear is nothing more than fantasized events appearing real.” I could have struck out on my own so long ago, followed a different path. But I allowed myself to be ruled by fear cloaked as practicality. It just kept me stuck, never really moving toward what I truly wanted.
Eventually, she began to understand that when her mind focused on fear, it placed her in an emotional cage. She reviewed some pivotal past decisions and noticed when focused on the “what if’s,” she attempted to outthink and control every situation in which she found herself. She often reacted out of fear. Fear, she comprehended, lived only in her thoughts and was based on past events and experience. She had listened only to the bellow of her ego in the recent past, the constant “I,” instead of her heart—the songstress of the “I AM.”
In the end, she knew fear often caused her a paralysis—one that stunted the life she was capable of creating, building such a thick brick wall around her soul, she could no longer clearly hear her songstress. Brick by brick, so afraid of making the slightest mistake, she eventually sheltered herself from what she truly wanted—a life of possibility.
Instead of thinking about what could go right, and moving in that direction, I’ve allowed myself to be ruled by what could go wrong.
As she continued to examine her past choices, she remembered one of her book treasures, Conversations with God and Uncommon Dialogue by Neal Donald Walsch. “Through God,” he had written, “the way to reduce the pain you associate with earthly experiences and events, both yours and those of others, is to change the way you behold them…” He went on, in part, “You cannot change the outer event, so you must change the inner experience.”
Muttering to herself, she remembered a quote, “Our actions are based on only two things, love or fear.” Both have a different energy signature.
As a sponge sitting in warm soapy water, gently used to scrub away the dirt from a well-used plate, Smythe sat soaking in all of her previous readings. She understood that fear was simply an emotion of the past. A signpost of previous experiences. She only had to pay attention and make considerations about the choices set before her now. Here, in this moment, she could choose to change her internal responses to her here-now present moment, or choose the old pattern of fear.
Easily brought to tears, Smythe’s eyes began to water.
No more ostrich hiding, even though my emotions are barking a different story. I can break my soul’s heart yet again, or I can continue to take the next step.
Her concentration was broken by the sound of Artie’s voice. She stood standing at the counter, asking the baker for three malasadas and a new creation he just placed in one of the display cases. Artie turned toward Smythe and asked if she wanted anything.
“I think three malasadas and a coffee, if you don’t mind.”
Artie smiled and nodded to the baker to add the additional items. Smythe rummaged through her messenger bag and found her wallet, sliding out of her seat to join Artie at the counter. She took the box from the baker, laid her cash on the counter, and returned to her table. Artie picked up a newspaper next to the cash register before walking quietly back to Smythe’s booth and handing over her coffee. Smythe separated the pastries and placed them on two plates, handing one to Artie. With a simple nod, Artie turned toward her own table.
“Aren’t you going to join me?” Smythe asked.
“Nah. You and the baker have yet to finish your conversation,” Artie responded tenderly.
Artie offered Smythe a smile and returned her own table. She opened the newspaper, scanning for information on the upcoming trial and Smythe’s role in it. She stopped to bite into the baker’s new creation and savored the sweet, delicate texture of the pastry.
God, this is good.
The baker returned to Smythe’s booth and slid into his seat. Smythe looked down at her coffee.
“I look back and think of how, just a few years ago, I was swept up in a reduction in force event.”
The baker tilted his head in confusion.
“A layoff is the simplest explanation. My position was eliminated. At any rate—I would have never guessed that some years later, I would be sitting here, starting my own business, defining the thing I do for a living. It’s as if I am rediscovering the seeds of my life. Yet, in the midst of it all, I’m forced to deal with a murder trial with me as its star witness. All I ever wanted to do when this all began was to follow my Beloved’s direction. In essence, I wanted to offer others some measure of hope and assistance in the midst of their own circumstances. It seems a bit ridiculous now.”
The baker appeared to look past Smythe to the hallway that led to his kitchen. When he finally spoke, the air seemed to still, and a palpable peace settled into the very fabric of the shop. He spoke so softly that he appeared to only mouth his words.
“When the sun only begins to rise, a wind often arises with it. If it has been windy through the night, the force of the wind often becomes stronger as the light of the morning sun begins to break through the darkness of nighttime. Yet nothing can stop the sun from rising—not even the force of the wind. It is similar for all things. When we emerge from our slumber and set out on our journey, many things occur along the way. They are neither good nor bad. They just are. We must overcome that which we perceive as struggle and keep going.”
He paused for a moment to allow Smythe to think. With a glint in his eye, he continued, “Just as we are to reach that which we have been moving toward, the forces of life become even stronger, but they exist only to teach us that which we have learned—and perhaps to test us. Just perhaps. I do not know of the testing part, but I do know that courage and fear are two sides of the same coin. Both sides light our way. Face the fear of your past and move through it. Remember, you are in the process of be-ing and undoing.”
“I thought I knew what I wanted, but with the chaos around me, I find myself unsure.”
“Allow the mystery of the unknown to guide you, my daughter. Think on these things.”
The Choice Is Yours
THE TINKLING OF A SMALL BELL SOUNDED AS A NEW CUSTOMER entered the shop. The baker slowly rose from the table, turning to greet the customer as she walked through the door.
“Ahhh, hello, my friend—and welcome. What shall I offer you? Choose wisely.”
Smythe glanced in Artie’s direction. Artie had not removed her gaze from the stranger.
Choose wisely.
A woman in her early thirties, dressed in trimmed black blouse, blazer, and slacks, sporting a thick, black overcoat warm enough to push out the early morning cold, strode toward the display counter. She stood before it and offered the baker a courteous smile and whispered, “Mahalo.”
Smythe watched Artie, perplexed by her change in posture. Her eyes danced between watching Artie and watching the stranger. Smythe saw the woman as nothing more than a customer looking forward to a pasty before heading off to work or whatever awaited her for the day.
Yet, Artie sensed danger. She sat more erect in her chair, and her fists and jaw began to tighten. Forcing her breathing to slow, she could hear every sound in the shop, and something felt… off. She narrowed her eyes as the stranger moved slowly from one display case to the next. The woman held no purse or pocketbook, and the overcoat was a bit too heavy for this time of year.
“Give me a moment to decide, brah,” the stranger politely said.
Artie did not wait to determine whether what she was sensing emanated from this customer or something else in the area. With the stranger’s back to Artie, she tapped into her com unit, signaling her team. She placed her hand underneath her jacket to the small of her back and unsnapped her weapon’s holster. She rose slowly from her chair, gesturing to Smythe as she moved toward her.
Team 1 and a member of Team 2 entered the bakery moments later. Dressed in casua
l business attire, they appeared to be nothing more than additional customers. One team member stood behind the woman and the other two walked to the side of a display case, appearing to peruse the pastries, severing any direct threat or sight to Smythe or Artie. The woman continued to look at the display of pastries. She glanced at the agents out of the corner of her eye, offering them a polite smile. She moved with deliberate ease and placed her order.
Smythe hastily gathered her items into her messenger bag while continuing to watch both Artie and this new customer. As she began to slide from her seat, Artie reached out the palm of her hand to Smythe. Smythe took her hand, slightly taken aback by the pressure Artie applied. She looked into Artie’s eyes, who glanced toward a hallway at the back of the shop. Smythe understood the request, and without a word, headed down the brightly lit corridor. She noticed a sign to the women’s restroom and turned to enter. Artie, however, had other plans. She placed her hands on both of Smythe’s arms and redirected her down the narrow hallway.
“There should be a door down here leading out to the back alley,” Artie whispered.
“You don’t know?!” Smythe whispered back.
Artie did not respond. They rounded the corner, and Artie spotted the exit sign.
“C’mon, over here.”
“Wait! My car is still here!”
“I know, let’s first get you into our vehicle.”
They exited out the back door and found Team 3’s vehicle idling at the back entrance. Artie quickly ushered Smythe into the backseat of the SUV and followed behind her.
“What happened, boss?” asked one of her agents.
“Something felt off.”
She asked Smythe for her car keys. Using her com set, she spoke to Team 2. Team 3 drove from the alley and turned on to a street that led away from the baker’s shop. As they slowed their vehicle, Artie rolled down her window.
A member of Team 2 walked quickly down the sidewalk toward the baker’s shop. He stopped momentarily to catch the keys Artie tossed out the window.
“Team 1 is checking in on the baker, and Team 2 will secure your vehicle. We’ll regroup at your place.”
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