John knew he was revisiting something. He was obviously not going to be able to ignore or avoid the “Mother Earth energy” thing. I mean, not that he was trying to avoid it. He was trying to go about his life, he was even trying to mix and mingle with people. He found himself thinking about Sally. It was only a short while ago that she rode off into the sunset with the trucker. He was hoping this strange pursuit of weird occurrences would just go away.
Suddenly he saw a motion picture, or maybe you would call it a hologram, floating in front of him. He was in the cave in Sedona. He heard himself saying, “Please forgive me, I know not what I do. I know not who I am except that I am a lonely traveler trying to find my way in a land where I have no allegiance to those like me. I have a strange connection to something I can’t explain. It’s crazy and I don’t know if I am losing my mind. These things happening to me don’t make sense to me anymore and I don’t even care. All I want to do is to finish this thing, get on with it so I can be left alone.”
He heard the softer feminine voice again, “It’s never too late for you to find your faith. For you to discover who you are and to understand what you are here to do. It is time.”
He heard his reply, “OK, I am ready. What do you ask of me to do?”
The voice reminded him of the previous message that he had tried hard to forget, “You have a mission to bring balance to many places where I suffer because of the unconscious actions of humans. Most of your kind do not think about me and the garden I create for you to thrive and prosper. Many just take and do not give back. You are different, my son, and I hope through you that others can be taught about the ways of harmony and balance. You are different because you have always been different, even if you don’t remember. You do not yet know how to bring balance to the energy centers of my body, and that will be one of the tasks you will have to remember and become conscious about. You can help me and I ask for your help now.”
“Alright! I remember what I said. I need direction. I can’t just keep stumbling along. Help me, help you.” Then he realized he was speaking to a memory, a flashback that slowly disappeared out of thin air. He turned to the lady standing by the bathroom door. She suddenly looked like Sally. He blinked and shook his head. He slumped back into the floor as he realized it was going to be one of those nights. He muttered, “Nothing is as it seems. Everything is a game. Why are you playing with me? What do you want?”
She continued to stare at John. He just shook his head.
“I guess you have to break me down or something, break me down until I give up. Well, I give up! It’s like the joker leading the blind. Everything is a riddle, I can’t see and I don’t know where I am going. I hate this shit.”
Oops. He went a little too far again, and zap! Another electric shock—not pretty. Lying prostrate on the floor. “Pain isn’t going to do it this time. I’m not going to be motivated by pain!” he said, getting louder, “This is a bad Stephen King novel.”
He glanced back up at the woman and she was an owl again. Well, at least her head looked like a bird of some kind. Then she was a regular-sized owl standing there, and she slumped over just like when he was holding the bird on the roadside. Suddenly, he stopped focusing on himself as he realized he felt sorry for this—creature. What to believe? John slowly raised himself up and crawled over to the feathered being. “Why don’t you die and end this silliness?” he asked. “Let me go.” The owl looked dead. He didn’t know if he wanted to breathe on it again. He thought about throwing it out of the door and driving off but he couldn’t. John immediately started to blow air over the owl’s head. The will to live, the will to help keep life going—they were standards John chose to live by.
The owl cracked open one eye and looked at him. John didn’t know what to feel except exhausted. A tear rolled out of his eye. “I love life,” he said, “I can’t just let you die. I don’t know what I am doing, but I can’t let you die. I have to do something, so wake up!” His tone lightened and he started to laugh, saying, “The insanity of the inane.” This time the real owl woke up and didn’t want to stick around the trailer very long. It jumped out of John’s hands and retreated under the table. John knew the party was over. He stood up and walked out of the trailer, leaving the door open behind him. A few minutes later the owl flew out, hooted as it departed and squirted a stream of white liquid over the pickup truck as it ascended into the night. John just shook his head and laughed.