Remember The Moon

by Carter, Abigail;

  I can see now how bankrupt I was in my life.

  Yes, Jay. That’s why you’re now having to learn these lessons in spirit form.

  So I’m like a remedial spirit?

  You could say that. You are just learning these lessons in spirit form rather than human form.

  How would things be different if I had learned my lessons in human form?

  Your entry back into spirit form would have been a much smoother transition. You wouldn’t have had nearly as much difficulty remembering who you were before you were Jay. It’s been much more difficult for you to let go of Jay and your human-ness.

  What do you mean?

  You are still very connected to Maya and Calder.

  They need me.

  They need the spirit Jay, not the human Jay.

  But I want to provide for my family. Isn’t that a form of love?

  Of course, Jay. But your human emotions and jealousies are getting in the way. Even in life, you worked hard to provide for your family, but was it really for Maya and Calder or was it for you?

  Penelope was starting to annoy me now. I did it for my family!

  Yes, of course. But if you were to be perfectly honest with yourself, don’t you think that you were also doing it for the prestige, the nice car, the respect that owning your own company afforded you?

  Yeah. Maybe a little. This was a very difficult admission for me. I felt deflated.

  You see, Jay, that’s what so many of us spirits are trying to help people on Earth to understand. We guide the production of the books and movies and through all human creativities that help people to see the simple truth that they must care for their soul-spirits by sharing their gifts with the world, whatever those gifts may be. Most of the tangible gifts we as humans offer the world are products of our love, our passion. Through these gifts, we offer other soul-spirits a piece of our love and passion which may manifest in love and passion within them.

  Sort of like passing the hot potato of love.

  Very poetic. But yes, something like that.

  I was pleased that Penelope had a sense of humor.So what are we as spirits supposed to do to help humans?

  The spirit guides are the ones that set up those little connections that humans often call “good timing” or “coincidences” to ensure all the right people and ideas come together at the right time. Every voice we have out there affects different people in different ways. The exact words in those books, stories, and movies may vary, but the message is fundamentally the same: it’s a passage of love from one human to another. You, Jay, have been given a voice that will help people on the earth plane. You have already spoken a little through Maya's paintings.

  With the words “Maya's paintings”, I transported to her. Wrapped in heavy sweaters, she stood beside her easel in the tiny sunroom that she had claimed as her “studio” for its light. Her tea was cold in its mug on the windowsill, her paintbrush hovering over the canvas. Oddly, I could see the finished painting, though the canvas was only partially painted. Maya rolled her brush in a blob of turquoise paint and applied it in just the spot I’d been looking at. After a while, her painting began to resemble the finished one I could see in my mind. This surprised me and yet the phenomenon felt completely natural, as though my seeing finished paintings before they were painted and then influencing my wife’s hand as she painted them was completely normal and natural. Flecks of white and blue transformed into what looked like a speck of dust under a microscope, a black background, impossibly infused with light. Blue, red, and pink infiltrated the white blossoms, giving them both complexity and simplicity at once. Maya painted with gusto, forgetting time.

  I felt most connected to her when she painted. There was little division between our thoughts and our frequencies. Her passion became embedded into the paint of each daub, its energy encapsulated within the paint’s molecules. When the paintings hung on the walls at the show, I could see this energy flowing off the walls as vapors of color, and these vapors merged with the energy of the viewers in astonishing ways. At the show in Vancouver, I stood near that same painting as a woman looked at it, and the colors of the painting began to bleed into her aura, creating ripples like a stone dropped into water. The electrical energy that Maya had unwittingly infused into the painting with each brush stroke worked its magic. I saw the woman become deeply moved as she viewed Maya's painting. Something in her seemed to release and she appeared close to tears as she surrendered to her emotions in awe. I heard her thoughts: The truth is so simple.

  Wow. I can see how powerful a painting can be. That woman in the art gallery fed her soul with Maya's painting, didn’t she?

  Exactly. And you helped make that happen.

  I didn’t really understand during my life as Jay, but I can see now how stunted I was as a human being. How much of my life had I missed? I don’t think I ever experienced Maya's energy exchange by looking at her paintings. I wish now that I had noticed those paintings and their effect on me.

  The important thing is that you have learned that now. Jay, you have been given special permission to connect to the earth plane in order to help Maya, Marcus, and Calder. But remember that everything you do, whether it’s here or on Earth, has a consequence. Be aware of your thoughts and actions.

  OK, but aren’t those repercussions pre-determined by us here, during the plotting process?

  The plotting process is just that, Jay. It is a plan. A look into some of the possible consequences of our actions. But the plots can change in unexpected ways, through tiny derivations – other plots that intersect with our own – so that even a serendipitous event instigated from the spiritual realm to help a human toward a greater understanding of himself might not be predicted and thus, this is merely a process, not an end result. This process provides clues as to how a possible scenario might unfold. You can help in this process of events, if you are willing. Like I keep saying, Jay, everything is a choice here.

  ***

  I sat beside Maya as she lay in her bed, crying. I wanted to wipe the tears from her cheeks or feel them dripping onto my chest as she laid her head against my shoulder. Instead, I could only watch and combine my thought energy with hers. I sensed her anguish over her broken relationship with Dom and I wished I could take back my selfish thought of Sean Connery that day with the psychic, my attempt to keep Maya from Marcus. I thought I was doing her a favor. I didn’t want her to be hurt again by Marcus, and instead I let her be devastated by Dominic. I wanted to help Maya, but just seemed to make things worse for her.

  I can help, Jay.

  How?

  Liz has been called. She can help you to help Maya. Penelope smiled and disappeared as quickly as she had arrived.

  Ask Maya to call Liz. Penelope’s thought was clear, even if she was no longer present.

  I looked at the tear-stained face of my wife and thought simply, call Liz.

  Maya's eyes fluttered closed and she slept. The next day she called Liz and made an appointment.

  A few weeks later, Maya sat tucked into the couch, Liz across from her in a chair.

  “I feel so stupid,” Maya said. “I really thought Dom was the one, because he seemed to match your description of the person I would meet at the art opening. I actually thought Jay sent him to me.”

  “In a way he did,” Liz said.

  “Why would he send me someone who I wasn’t meant to be with?”

  “Every person that comes into our lives comes for a reason. Think about what you learned from your relationship with Dom.”

  Maya leaned back into the couch and seemed to be thinking. “He saw me as beautiful. After Jay died, I didn’t see myself that way at all. I thought men would see me as a dried up old prune of a mom.”

  Liz laughed. “Hardly, Maya.”

  “I thought I would be sca
red to love again, fearful of another loss. But I fell in love with Dom. He taught me that I had the capacity to love another person and that I was worthy of being loved.”

  Liz nodded. “And armed with that knowledge, you are now better prepared for any new relationship that comes along.”

  “I hadn’t thought of it that way, but I guess you’re right. Are you going to tell me what’s next?”

  Marcus’s apartment was certainly a testament to a bachelor lifestyle. At the front door he took a leash from a hook and turned toward his big, black dog, curled up sleeping in a big chair.

  Suddenly I felt weird being there, watching him.

  Why am I here? I asked. My dad shimmered within the frozen scene of Marcus’s apartment.

  To help Marcus.

  Why help him? I still can’t get over the fact that he slept with my wife.

  It isn’t obvious? Look around, J.J.

  Scanning the apartment again, I noticed all the art on the walls. Every frame held one of Maya's paintings. Paintings that she had sold over the years, often not knowing who had bought them. He had no doubt chosen this apartment for its gallery-like wall space. The room resonated with her energy.

  He’s a creepy stalker of my wife?

  That’s your human speaking. What does your heart tell you?

  “C’mon, Jericho,” Marcus said, interrupting us. “Let’s get you out for a pee.” Jericho perked up his ears and looked at Marcus and then settled his head back down on the armrest, clearly not interested in a walk.

  “Jericho, let’s go!” Jericho took his time yawning, his big tongue curling up into his mouth before sticking his forepaws out as he slid reluctantly off the chair.

  “Am I intruding on your sleep, you poor, lazy dog?” Jericho just yawned again and came sniffing around me. He sat and looked at me, cocking his head slightly as if trying to give my image meaning. “Why are you staring at the wall, ya crazy mutt? Let’s go.” Marcus attached Jericho’s leash to his collar and together they walked out the door. They strode through Stanley Park, Jericho sniffing every tree and lifting a leg before continuing.

  You will be together again. I couldn’t tell if the thought was mine or someone else’s.

  Marcus stopped abruptly. He closed his eyes, appearing to be deep in thought. I need her. I heard Marc’s thought clearly.

  And she needs you. These words did not come easily to me. I wanted to be the one she needed.

  But she doesn’t want to see me.

  She wasn’t ready.

  And what makes you think she’s ready now?

  I kept my thoughts silent in reply.

  I think I’m going insane. Marcus shook his head as if to rid himself of his own thoughts. Jericho stopped walking and sat waiting for Marcus, his head cocked, looking at me again. “Who are you looking at? Jericho, I think we’re both going insane.” With that, Jericho jumped up and bounded to the end of his leash, pulling it from Marcus’s hand, causing him to take off running after the dog, who, ready for a chase, kept running through trees with Marcus calling after him. I didn’t follow. I knew Marcus had heard me. I didn’t know how long it would take, but the seed was planted. Still, he would need more prompting to nudge him toward Maya. But this whole idea of getting Maya and Marcus together still seemed farfetched. A little too convenient.

  Dad? You still there?

  Always.

  Is Marcus really the right person for Maya?

  All you know of Marcus is what Maya told you about a time in her life when her heart was broken by him.

  Does that mean she didn’t really love me? Did she always love Marcus? I hated sounding like a whining three-year-old.

  Maya, like any human, has the capability to love many people. Of course she loved you. Why do you even question that?

  Because I’m starting to see the inevitability of her relationship with Marcus.

  Yes. You have the perspective now to see that Marcus was a predetermined presence in her life. But then, so were you.

  My father faded and I returned to the living room with Maya and Liz.

  “He’s showing me a dog. A man walking a black dog,” Liz said. Maya looked at her blankly. Of course she would have no way of knowing that Marcus had a dog.

  He’s coming back to you, Maya. He will find you again.

  “Someone is looking for you,” Liz said. “I’m not sure what that means, but it’s what I’m getting. There is someone coming, Maya.”

  “You mean a new relationship? God, I don’t think I can do that again. Dom turned me off relationships for a while.”

  “The universe knows when the timing is right. You might not be ready now, but when the timing is right, it will happen. And you will be better prepared for a new relationship because of what you learned from Dom.”

  “I hope you’re right, Liz.”

  I hope so too, I thought.

  At that moment I began to feel an odd sensation, one of being lifted and floating at once. I moved away from Maya and Liz. My aura changed from pale yellow to a pale purple. My father seemed to recede from me. I felt no panic at this, but instead a sense of euphoria swept over me.

  What’s going on? Dad? Are you doing that? At my beckoning, my father appeared.

  It’s not my doing. It’s yours. I believe you are being absorbed into your new level. Light is absorbing your energy and as you move up, you will begin to understand more. You are becoming more of an integrated part of the collective of soul-spirits.

  Why now?

  You’ve earned it, of course. Through the renewed condition of your heart, now the universal energy has deemed you ready for more learning. Your human-ness has dropped away to such an extent that your soul-spirit is able to rise higher. You are becoming purer in soul-spirit, Jay. Embrace it.

  The light around me shone with a new intensity. Colored lights surrounded me and I realized these were other soul-spirits who existed in this new realm, which I hadn’t been able to see until now. I felt serene and tranquil, yet elated as well. I wished I could truly laugh, or shout or clap. I looked up and saw my dad hovering just above me, smiling. His aura pulsed a brilliant shade of emerald green I hadn’t seen before because I hadn’t yet achieved this level of clarity. I realized I no longer saw him in his Rolling Stone’s t-shirt and I hadn’t noticed the change.

  That green aura matches your eyes, I thought. My dad just continued to float upwards into a realm beyond my reach. I heard his words: Don’t forget about Marcus. He needs you now.

  Chapter Twenty

  THE REUNION

  The yellow walls, French doors out to a garden, and tightly woven grey carpet were unfamiliar. Drum equipment, an electric guitar, a small electric piano and an amp and their respective power cords snaked around the room. Calder sat behind the drums and his friend Owen stood in the center of the cords, holding a guitar and picking out the notes of a song from memory. Calder tapped his sticks against the snare lightly, trying to keep the pace and maintain a rhythm. It took a few minutes to recognize the tune as “Hey Jude”. Each time Owen plucked a wrong note, he started again from the beginning. The tiny amplifier beside him reverberated.

  “Hey, can I jam with you guys?” The man startled the boys, who stopped playing abruptly. He came farther down the steps and stepped over the wires to give Owen a high five. I was shocked to see it was Marcus.

  What’s going on?

  My dad appeared. Think of it as a little nudge, J.J.

  This is a pretty big nudge, Dad. This was not my doing. I assume it was yours? My dad seemed to shrug and vanished.

  Typical.

  I heard that.

  “Sorry, O. Didn’t mean to interrupt,” Marcus said to Owen.

  “It’s OK.”

  “You want introduce me to your friend?”

&
nbsp; “Oh yeah, sorry. This is Calder. Calder, this is Marc.”

  “Hey.” Calder raised a drum stick.

  “You guys sound pretty good. Would it be OK if I played this keyboard?”

  “Sure, but it might be too low for you,” Owen said.

  “That’s OK. I’ll just get down like this.” Marcus kneeled in front of the tiny electric keyboard and pushed the switch on, causing it to hum to life. “You guys start and I’ll just jump in.”

  Owen strummed the first bar of “Hey Jude” again. Marcus quickly caught on and followed Owen’s lead, playing the song perfectly, which helped Owen stumble his way through the whole song without stopping, despite his mistakes. Calder had a look of awe on his face as he pounded out an improvised rhythm.

  “Wow! That was so cool!” Owen turned and said to Calder, “Dude, was that not awesome?” Calder nodded his head.

  “Mind if I show you something?” Marcus asked Owen. Owen shrugged as Marc eased his way up to a standing position. He held his hand out for Owen’s guitar. He held it against his thighs and positioned his hand on the frets. “If you hold your fingers like this, you’ll be able to change chords faster. Here, you try.” Owen took the guitar and tried to put his fingers in the positions Marcus had shown him. Marcus reached over Owen’s shoulder and helped him place his fingers correctly. “It takes practice, but it really helps when you get it. Try the chord now.” Owen strummed and then changed chords by sliding his finger smoothly down the strut. The next chord came perfectly as did the one after it.

  “Nice!” Marcus said when Owen stumbled and stopped playing.

  “Cool! That really works! Thanks!”

  “No problem, buddy.” Marcus then turned to Calder. “And you know, if you let your wrists go limp as you play, rather than playing with your whole arms, you won’t get as tired. Also you’ll be able to play faster. Can I show you?” Marcus took the sticks from Calder and wedged himself into the tiny slot against the wall as Calder vacated his seat. Marc played a long, upbeat solo that left the kids standing agape. He stopped playing and smiled. “Now you try.” He got up and handed the sticks back to Calder.