Love Story: In The Web of Life

by Ken Renshaw

  "Let's go back into my office and talk some more. I don't want to disturb Mr. Spider."

  We walked back into the living room where Candice was reading or working on her iPad. Tom told Candice that we had visited Mr. Spider and were now going to his office.

  Candice asked, "Is Mr. Spider OK?"

  Tom nodded yes as we walk down the hall.

  Tom's office was decorated in the Craftsman Style, with dark blue walls, and dark wood wainscoting and trim. His desk, facing the wall, had three large, now dark, computer screens, a keyboard, a MIDI piano keyboard, and a couple of devices, possibly miniature drums, set to the side. As I looked around, I saw that there were some black speakers concealed in the decor.

  "This is where I do my composing and my counseling,"

  "It looks very tidy," I replied. "I would expect all kinds of mixing boards and instruments, piles of music scores, microphones, music stands."

  "They are all in the computer these days. I find that I work best when there is not paraphernalia around for me to attach my web of attention. Have a seat.

  "Let's see, we covered the general idea of the web. There is another aspect of that idea that many people have trouble with. From your description of your recent studies, it feels safe to expose you to these ideas. Sometimes, with some people, as you work back to the original emotional incident in their childhood, they find there is a connection to an earlier time. For instance, a person going back to a root incident of being spanked might find there is a connection to an earlier place in space-time, where they find a person being flogged while tied up in some colonial setting.

  "Here we run up against four-dimensional space-time limitation of many people's thinking. Some people who are not trained in logic and science have no trouble with the idea of what most call 'past lives.' A very large number of people in other cultures believe in that sort of thing. Scientists would be more apt to explain such perceptions as 'hallucinations.' A logical friend explained to me that past lives or transmigration of souls, as believed in some cultures, is impossible because the world population has grown. There would not be enough lives in some year such as 1000 BCE for everyone in 2000 CE to have a past life. There are also questions of the physics of how information or souls get moved from one life to another. Candice's eight-dimensional work provides wormholes for information transfer between space-time points."

  I interrupted and said, "I will call them shortcuts in the trial. A jury of country people might think wormholes are something to be avoided since they don't like to find wormholes in fruit, corn, or in places where termites have been."

  Tom continued, nodding acknowledgement to my choice of words "Instead of your soul being attached to that previous–life person, and somehow migrating through time into your body of today, it is more as though you are channeling ideas from that prior–life person. Their soul is their’s and your’s is your’s: there is only a channeling connection.

  "By the way, I have had clients, whose whole nonprofessional lives had been tied up in some hobby, such as owning a sailboat, who found ties to lives in earlier times, such as the great age of sail in the eighteenth century. Typically, they might spend enormous time and money maintaining a sailboat without ever taking it away from the expensive slip it occupies. Once they deal with these perceptions, they no longer need to own a sailboat.

  "I remember one client who had a web connection to someone who was swept off the deck of a sailing ship by a wave coming around Cape Horn during the Gold Rush in 1849. He perceived the wave, fate had prevented him from striking–it–rich in the gold fields. The client had difficulty in this lifetime establishing or realizing goals because he believed fate would stop him from achieving those goals. He lived on a sailboat in a marina. He did move on with his life after he dealt with the connection to the 1849'er. He even sold his sailboat and bought a house."

  I added, "I love hearing about all this. It fits so well with what I have recently learned. Tell me more about your process of having people 'crawl' through the information of their web."

  Tom smiled and said, "The best way to demonstrate the process is to do it with you. Want to try?"

  "I'm game."

  "Then, close your eyes and relax...."

  ****

  The next evening, I called when I was a few blocks from Tina's apartment building so she could meet me downstairs. As I turned onto her street I saw her crouched down petting a dog on a leash, apparently being walked by a neighbor. As I drove up she patted the dog on the head, gave it a small kiss on the forehead, smiled at the owner, and turned toward me with a big grin.

  I reached across the seat and opened the door.

  As she slid in she said, "Oh, I love Goldens. They are such loving dogs."

  "You look beautiful,' I said. "that shade of purple is perfect for you."

  She looked at me questionably for a second and then brightened into a smile and said, "You surely are in a good mood tonight. Full of Sierra sunshine...or moonshine. You must have had a really good week."

  "I did, indeed. Rocky Butte was an interesting place. I really met some interesting people.

  "I have to go up there next Wednesday for the trial. I want to be there, acting like a local for a while before the trial starts. The trial shouldn't last more than a week."

  As we drove, I told her about Rocky Butte, the Judge, Agnes, and the gold pans. She listened with great interest. I was about to tell her about Steve and Georgia when we got to Hernando's.

  After we were seated and had ordered margaritas and food, I started to tell her about Steve and Georgia. "Steve is my main witness in the trial, the remote sensor that tried to help find the lost girl. He and his wife live in a mountain cabin, almost off the grid, at the end of unnamed dirt roads above Rocky Butte. They have a fantastic site with a view of the mountains. They are a wonderful, loving couple; amazingly comfortable and affectionate with each other. They are quite a contrast to the uptight lawyers and trophy wives I meet here in LA. Georgia seems to have unusual psychic powers. When I was talking about my mobile home in the desert, she seemed to pick up pictures of you being there."

  Tina smiled in a kind of surprised way. "They sound great. You now seem to be quite comfortable with these ideas about psychic powers. That is a big switch. We couldn't have even broached the subject without you being uncomfortable a few weeks ago."

  "Since my first contact with Uriel, I have acquired an immense amount of information that has altered my viewpoint. The physics, the logic, the people, and my personal experiences have all come together. I have no trouble with the subject. I used to think all this stuff was outside the realm of science and was simply delusional. Now, I think all of this stuff is within an expanded realm of science. People in the scientific world are delusional if they hold onto the conventional four-dimensional view of reality and say psychic phenomena is nonsense!"

  Tina replied delightedly, "Although I don't understand all this mathematical stuff, I think it is wonderful that you are having all these new understandings. Who would have believed.... Wow! The energy level coming off your body is amazing."

  "I haven't got to the best part yet. I told you about Dr. Candice Montgomery. I visited her and her husband in their home in Altadena. Her husband, Tom Watson, a Hollywood-type composer/arranger, also does personal counseling in something he calls space-time therapy. He explained to me how we are like spiders in the center of this web of information, with filaments connected throughout space-time. Some of the filaments are connected to what we call conscious or subconscious memories in our lifetime. Some people in therapy trace filaments to other space times. Tom doesn't call them 'past lives' because that implies the reincarnation thing, souls transmigrating from body to body in a timeline. Tom says that filaments connect people in space and time that have an emotional connection for some reason. He thinks there are a variety of reasons for this connection.

  "I asked him how it works, and he said for me to do it and find out. We started with a sore knee,
which bothers me when I play squash, and ran the thread back to a childhood injury when I fell on my knee. Amazingly, my knee hasn't hurt since the session with Tom. Then, we did some emotional threads, like the last time I was really pissed at Zaza, which went all the way back to my second grade. I was kind of on a roll so Tom kept going on a variety of things. After, two hours, a strange thing happened: I went earlier on a thread, through childhood, and then I saw a vague picture of another young man that I thought was a brother-not my brother in this life-standing next to an ancient biplane, the kind they fly in movies about World War I. The vision didn't last long so I didn't get much information about him. At that point, we had to stop because I felt an incredible surge of happiness. I was blown away, so excited about this exploration I booked another session tomorrow afternoon."

  Tina looked startled and asked, "Was that a past life? I have a friend who did past life therapy and claims she was all kinds of people."

  "Not exactly. Tom says it was a connection to another person in space-time. No DNA or reincarnation implied. It is connection with a space-time that holds some idea, emotion, unfinished business, or physical injury that I need to address. Tom says it is unnecessary to understand the big picture of why this connection exists. We can get rid of all the web attachments of information with negative emotional power."

  Tina observed, "I have never seen you like this. Is there more? Your energy is about to blow me right out of this chair."

  Then, our margaritas came. Tina told me about her week teaching. I gradually settled down from my high. We chatted while we ate, and I observed that Mexican food was very grounding.

  As we finished, Tina said, "I love how you are changing with all this space-time stuff."

  "I also learned how these new friends have homes that express ideas in space-time. The log cabin above Rocky Butte, the surroundings, the love, the solitude, and privacy are unique in space-time. Candice and Tom's place in Altadena is very true to the Bungalow Style and the Craftsman idea of detail, workmanship, and integrity. When I walked into the place, I felt intense feelings that this was somebody's loving home, a caring creation, a unique place in space-time.

  "In reflecting on the subject, I recalled that my mother tried to maintain the family house as it was at the time when my brother and I were in high school, my father was alive, and we were a close family. When she passed away, our rooms were about the same as when we went to college, with drawers filled with our high school sports jerseys, Boy Scout uniforms, and silkscreened T-shirts from the various events we had attended.

  "When I look at where I live now, my apartment, all it says is 'expensive address,' 'talented interior decorator,' and 'big furnishing budget.' The place is no more to me than a suite at a five star hotel would be. I am not connected to it as the people I visited are connected to where they live."

  Tina grinned and added, "You are changing. I'd like to meet Candice and Tom and see their house sometime."

  "I'm going there tomorrow for a session with Tom. You could come along. I'm not sure if Candice will be there. You might have to sit around alone for a couple of hours."

  "It sounds great. I have a pile of unread books on my Kindle to entertain myself. I'd like to see Altadena. Maybe, we could stop by the Norton Simon Museum in Pasadena on the way home. It is time for me to have another Impressionist fix. Have you ever been there? There are lots of good places to eat in Old Pasadena, sidewalk cafes and bistros. It's pleasant to wander around and shop this time of year. Have you ever been to the Norton Simon?"

  "Not for a long time. It might be a good way to ground myself after spending an hour or two traveling in space-time with Tom."

  I paused and then said, "One of the things I like about you is how much space you occupy, how you can mentally go to Altadena and then flash over to the museum, go through it, probably visualizing some of the paintings and then move through the list of sidewalk cafes, probably recalling the menus, and then go shopping, all in less than a minute.'

  Tina tilted her head down in mock coyness, glanced hesitantly at me and said, "You left out how I started the day, I was in my place, making breakfast for you."

  I felt that pleasant glow around my heart, raised my hand, and said, "Waiter, check please."

  ****

  It was a beautiful day in Altadena. A late spring cold front had passed through during the night, clearing out the LA haze and smog, making the sky sparkling blue, dotting the mountains with a procession of small puffy clouds. I observed that this would not have been much of a soaring day on the desert, it was a good day to be doing something else, particularly with Tina.

  As we drove through Altadena on the way to Candice and Tom's, Tina was admiring and commenting on the variety and architecture of homes, Victorians from the early days of Altadena, old bungalows from the depression era, some of which might have been the prefab kits sold from catalogs by companies such as Sears and Roebuck. Small tracts of thirties houses were in a stucco Mediterranean or Spanish style. We seemed to agree on what was ugly, and what was well done. I was having fun.

  When we got to Candice and Tom's, Tina said, "Oh isn't that darling, so well done, with river stones covering the foundation and pillar bases. I'd bet they came from a nearby creek. I see what you meant when you described it as a home that somebody loves. Look at the detail, those stained glass panels; the, old–fashioned windows with the three sections at the top; the way the beams and eaves are notched and fitted together.

  When we walked up to the front door, I saw a note taped to the glass. It said, "Dave, I am with another client. Go on into the living room and make yourself at home. Coffee, tea, and a bowl of fruit are in the kitchen.

  As we walked in, Tina exclaimed, "Oh, this is just perfect. Pasadena and this area have Craftsman homes. Local artists make Mission Style furniture and ceramics in the Craftsman tradition. Notice the dark hammered copper light fixtures! Look at the green ceramic vases, the finely–crafted bookcases, couch, rocking chairs. The door and window trim are without ornamentation, made of only flat boards, precisely fitted together! The light–green color of the walls, sets off their dark natural stain. The facing on the fireplace is made from custom tiles. Oh, this is really wonderful!"

  "And," I added, "that picture is by a California Impressionist."

  Tina went over to the picture, examined it carefully and said, "This could be a Payne because it looks as if it could have been painted of the view from the back yard. Those mountains look the same. Payne liked to paint around here. Look at the detail in the wildflowers."

  I was puzzled and asked, "How did you get to be such an expert on California Impressionist paintings?"

  Then, we heard Tom saying goodbye to his client, a well–dressed lady, at the front door. Tom came into the living room and greeted us with a hearty welcome."

  I introduced Tina as Tom looked at her intently.

  Tina said, "I brought along lots to read. I'll sit right here as quiet as a mouse while you go away."

  Tom grinned and said, "Make yourself at home, and use the kitchen to make coffee or tea. There is a big bowl of fresh fruit that needs to be eaten. You can sit on the back patio if you wish and enjoy this beautiful day. The bathroom is right down the hall. We will probably be a couple of hours. There is a trail that leaves the back yard and goes up the hill to a viewpoint. Watch out for snakes."

  Tina replied, "Thanks, I think I will do all those things. I know how to look out for snakes. Dave told me about Mr. Spider. I think I'll visit him. I'll be careful not to disturb him."

  "He is behind the avocado tree at the end of the yard."

  We went into Tom's office.

  Two hours and fifteen minutes later we emerged. I looked around and found Tina taking a nap on a chaise lounge in the shade on the back patio. As she heard the screen door open, she sat up and smiled. "Back from space-time travels?'

  "Yes, it was really amazing."

  "It looks like it. You are really radiating that amazing energy." Tina
exclaimed.

  I thanked Tom, we chatted a bit and then said our goodbyes. As we walked to the car I said to Tina, "Why don't you drive. I am still a bit distracted, not totally back in present time."

  "Still feel like going to the Norton Simon?" She asked.

  "Yes, I think that would be perfect. How about something simple for lunch?"

  She thought a minute and then said, "There is a little latte and snack bar in the courtyard at the museum. They have sandwiches there. How about that?"

  "Great."

  After we drove away Tina asked, "Do you want to talk about what happened in your session?"

  "Yes, that would probably be a good idea. I am still trying to assimilate what I experienced in visiting that space-time."

  "It was some time at the beginning if World War I and we were in Germany. My brother, he was about 20, and I, about 22, were fascinated with learning to fly a biplane that a local man flew. He sold rides and gave flying lessons. My recall skipped until when my brother was killed in a crash of that same biplane, when a wheel came off in landing and the plane flipped over. I experienced intense grief. I got back to that space-time because Tom ran me back on a grief thread that started from the time when our family dog died in this lifetime.

  "Then, I followed the thread of 'crashing airplanes' and skipped to when I was flying in a German biplane squadron. The other pilots were a scary, brutal bunch of guys, fiercely and ruthlessly competing for some award or prize for shooting down enemy airplanes. I could feel their vibrations of anger. I was caught up in the game and shot down many airplanes. Everyone thought it was a noble endeavor; we were like knights jousting for honor. I re-experienced several dogfight scenes, machine-gunning other airplanes, following them down to the ground to make sure they crashed and burned. I could hear the sound of the biplane motors, smell the engines, and feel how the airplane responded to controls. I feel as though I could get into one today and know how to fly it.