Right on Time

Pendulum clock

“A connecting principle
Linked to the invisible
Almost imperceptible
Something inexpressible
Science insusceptible
Logic so inflexible
Causally connectable
Yet nothing is invincible”

“Synchronicity I” Police

“Where shall I begin, please your Majesty?” he asked. “Begin at the beginning,” the King said gravely, “and go on till you come to the end: then stop.” “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland” Lewis Carroll

I wrote the above Thursday Nov. 11, 2021. When I had thought I had stopped digging. But shit just got deep and I can’t figure out where the beginning begins.

I thought all this synchronicity shit culminated Monday when I listened to the audio meditation/psychotherapy. I thought I was being pointed toward that and I suppose I was. It helped more than I realized. I think it was Wednesday, I thought, wow, this is weird I have not thought about drinking until right now when I realized I had not thought about drinking. Now it is Sunday and I had one point Friday, thinking I wanted to drink but it took maybe a minute to talk it out. But shit’s got me talking to myself like Smeagol now. Only there are three “us’s”.

Is that where it began? Getting the right books at the right moment in my life? Maxx just happened to have a copy of the Hobbit when I was on my “journey of a thousand miles”? Not so much of a coincidence. I’m living in a tent in the middle of the Rocky Mountains and a stranger happens to have a copy of “Still Life With Woodpecker” by Tom Robbins? He gave it to me because I was a redhead. Do you know about redheads? Read the book and you will know a bit more about me. That’s not the book I was supposed to read by him. It was “Jitterbug Perfume” and then the rest. How the fuck did I get a copy of “Moby Dick” while I was living in a van in the middle of somewhere California? Fucking page turner! I opened it and didn’t move until I finished reading.

I’m still trying to get to the beginning of the story. I can’t do every detail, it will take me a year to write. Tuesday night googling unrelated, up pops an article on Psychology Today about a psychiatrist with bipolar disorder who realize synchronicity more prevalent the more manic he was. I shared it with my mom and N—, hoping to ease their minds. I don’t think it worked. I didn’t realize there was a link to a radio interview on some conspiracy theory station. She texted and said she listened to the whole hour, great… I listened and thought maybe that guy’s book is what I’m supposed to read… Nope, back up. I googled the psychiatrist. He has a practice and is still taking patients. His address is a Post Office box. Am I supposed to mail him a letter? I don’t have time. But there it was in the article.. The book I’m supposed to read next. Can you guess? Carl Jung! I knew he wrote about synchronicity. That’s how I know the word but that is all I know about it besides my own experience. I also call it “being in the flow” or “The right place at the right time all the time”, I didn’t read him, I didn’t read Nietzsche or any of them on purpose. I came up with my own philosophy. Do you want me to get to the beginning? I’m trying to but it keeps starting over.

Saturday morning I went to Panera to hoping something would happen. Nothing happened, so I left… Then it happened! Walking home I got a text from a 978 number, asking if I still lived in Seabrook, I almost deleted it because I thought it was this scammer I messed with a month ago. Do they think I’m fucking stupid? I texted back, “do you want me to stop by with some money and gift cards?” It wasn’t the scammer. Do you want to guess who it was?

It was M=====! Fuck You, Universe! I’ve mentioned her on here, several times. My “Empath” friend. I joke about how she pisses me off talking about all this crazy shit? Maybe I’m crazy. I didn’t tell her to text me. I haven’t talked to her in at least three years. I’ve been meaning to write a post about her but like I said I keep creating new stories.

I guess it’s time to write about her.

Marnie is the first person I met when I moved back here in 2013. But we have a much longer history than that. Much longer. Do you care to indulge? We started emailing and apparently we have been following each other around our whole lives. She went to school at Arizona State in ’93 while Joie and I were staying with Maxx a couple miles away in downtown Tucson. When I moved in with my brother she was living 10 miles from there. Then again, 2013, 4 miles away, we’re emailing. I guess it’s about time we met.

I like her, but she bugs me because she believes in everything mystical, spiritual etc… She has a use for every herbal tincture. This is going to take too long. She told me she “cured” her schizophrenia. I only mention that because I’m a fucking magnet.

We met in person and hung around but didn’t do anything. She told me she thought sex meant you were in love and she and she always felt a lot off guilt, shame, anger, etc.. when it wasn’t love. I told her I couldn’t have sex with her. We didn’t do too much. She would come over and talk, we would go for drives. Then she asked if I wanted to go to her place New Year’s Eve. Yeah, I guess. She doesn’t drink, I wasn’t drinking, We watched the Twilight Zone marathon. She sat on one couch I sat on the other. Wild party, better call the cops! She said she was going to take a shower and go to bed. She walked out of the bathroom wearing only a t-shirt, no underwear. I watched her take a few short steps towards her bedroom. Jesus Fucking Christ! You know I wanted to! I slept on the couch.

A few years ago she texted me again. She wanted to go for coffee. We started getting coffee and driving or stopping at the beach and walking. I didn’t know we were “dating”. She had something fucked up going on, she just broke up with a guy. I don’t know, I just wanted her to shut up about seeing numbers repeating on the clock. How many times a day does that happen? And if she is such a fucking empath, why can’t she “feel” that I want her shut up?

Then she “netflixed and chilled” me. She wanted to bring a DVD to watch. I don’t have a DVD player. That’s okay, she has a portable one. Well the fucking tv is in my bedroom. Okay.

I don’t remember what movie it was. It doesn’t matter. We were laying there not talking until she asked, “Are you horny?”…. “Yes”, She hit pause. This time I did it. She hit play and we watched the rest of the movie.

That was it. I didn’t think I would see her again. She was mad after I said she “netflixed and chilled” and she said she didn’t know what that means. I can’t fucking remember.

Before I keep typing and everyone thinks I’m a lunatic, (you didn’t think that before did you?) I did post about this on my blog last summer. I wrote about everything as it happened. It’s not like I’m telling the story after the fact. I wrote about leaving the house at 2:22 and getting back home at 3:33 and good thing M==== wasn’t here. I also wrote about… Okay, I wrote about this and wondered why I was doing it but so much crazy shit went on this summer it barely hit my radar screen. When I joined meetup.com I was going to an “empath support group”, which would have been only me and the woman who started the group. I don’t believe that shit and I don’t believe in all the paranormal on her page. I still almost went. I was going to spend like $80 on an Uber to Stratham. What the fuck were we going to talk about? I am thick as a fucking brick! I went to her page to cancel and whose face do I see smiling at me from the comment section? Who? Fucking M—–! Maybe I could have saved myself a lot of trouble.

Have I reached the beginning yet? Well, at least I could tell her and she wouldn’t think I was crazy. She thought it was great but it was too much texting and I didn’t even tell her the point. I got sidetracked when she asked me what I was having for dinner and I said, “power brain stew”. I forgot all about all of that crazy shit and the foods I was eating! I started telling her about the lentils and GABA and I’m in the kitchen trying to cook talking to myself a mile a minute like she can hear me, I was trying to concentrate on not burning dinner and I remember slicing the jalapenos one by one and gently placing them into the trash and then wondering what happened to the jalapenos.

I texted, wait a minute, this is too much too text and it’s not even what I wanted to tell you. She didn’t want to come over and she didn’t want to talk on the phone, she said you can tell me what you want or you don’t have to tell me. I did some breathing and calmed down and started typing the Cliff’s Notes version. I told how if I hadn’t started practicing diaphragmatic breathing months ago I never would have been able to sit through that 6hr audio book guided meditation/intense psychotherapy about Unconditional Self Acceptance and I would probably still be drunk right now. I told her how I talk to myself now when I have an issue. Saying We and Us, like there are three different people. (I don’t have multiple personalities, that is not what schizophrenia means) It helps to separate the identities and place some distance from myself. Which one of us wants to drink? Me, 4 year old me, or my inner critic? All three? Okay, let’s talk about it. I know it’s all me but that helps for some reason.

I waited a couple hours and nothing happened. Oh well, I guess my crazy friend thinks I’m too crazy. I guess I’ll tell the internet all about it. I sat down and received a long ass text. She thought it was great, I was finally in tune. finally, it’s been happening my whole life. She is still way too out there for me but what am I supposed to think? We texted to like midnight. She asked if I would be sleeping and I said I am going to breathe but I don’t know if it will put me to sleep.

I had a dream that woke me up, I forget what it was about, I opened my eyes and my phone dinged. Are you sick of me making you guess who it was? She was talking about the difference between breathing and meditation and a long ass text. I was already breathing to stay in bed and text her back about how I combine them and there is no distinction for me. I’m just pissed the people who told me to meditate to help with anxiety didn’t tell me that it is the physiological response to the breathing that shuts down the anxiety and it took me 5 fucking years to figure it out. I said I don’t know how long ago texted but it’s taking me forever to type this.

Deep breath… Are we at the beginning yet? Have I ever led you into fantasy land? Have I been in fantasy land this whole time? She texted back, “I sent the text at 3:32am, I was going to text you again at 3:33 so we could speak in tune with the universe…” and some such bullshit! I didn’t want to tell her but I did, that I thought of her when I left the house at 222 and got home at 333 last summer.

I guess 2,000 words of this is better than 4,000 words of what I was going to right before she texted me on the walk home yesterday.

I fucking felt like Charlie in “It’s always sunny in Philadelphia” when he is freaking out in the mail room about Pepe Silvia.

It would have taken me a month! That’s if nothing else happened. The most pressing is the little bit I read in the preview of the Carl Jung book, “The Undiscovered Self with Symbols and the Interpretation of Dreams” show up in half my fucking poems. One poem I posted was from when I was mid twenties. I woke up from a dream, went to the compute and typed the long as poem verbatim. I think I had to change two or three words. Then there is the other shit I don’t even believe in.

“will we ever find what’s under me?
will we find me? what drives me
and ties me and binds me to
spiritual symbolism and superstition”

“it’s pure inspiration and divination
clever conjecture and computation
influenced by the left hand of god”

What was I writing to myself twenty years ago? Does it mean anything, or is it just bullshit that rhymes?

I don’t know what to do? Should I tell her about the woman with the Empath group she attended 2 years ago and I almost went to this year? (how did I see that and think, oh, of course?)

I’ve been training myself to breathe and I have been doing it since I woke up so I am very calm now but if I talk, I stop breathing this way. I have the first meeting with my new therapist Tuesday. I’m I start talking about all this shit I’m going to get manic mouth and start gesticulating and I’m going to get put in the hospital. Right? They can’t do that. All I’m doing is talking fast. I’m not hurting anyone. I’m taking care of myself, I’m paying my bills, I’m not blowing money. I don’t know what to do?

Should I just tell her I want to work on self acceptance?

Should I stop? Have I come to the end? or is this just the beginning?

3 thoughts on “Right on Time

  1. I relate to your skepticism regarding spirituality. I believe in practicing spirituality myself but in moderation. If anyone tries going too deep I get a little weirded out. I hope things go well with your new therapist tomorrow!

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s