Ih Old journals from my kids grade school years teach me more as the pages yellow. I remember this day as though it's happening now. Dan was our friend who owned the metaphysical bookstore near my house in the early 90's when the only thing I could find to read about raising my consciousness was the farmer's almanac or some astrology magazine. My friends and I loved his store and how he gave us discounts! He allowed us room to grow without preaching, always taking the quiet side. It was a blessing in disguise when he went to Hawaii and let my friend Dixie run the store. We were both developing our sixth sense and found ourselves immersed in crystals, new age music and loads of books.Dixie turned the music loud to the amusement of my youngest daughter. We ordered pizza and thumbed through a box of free rocks and shirts that Dan said we could have. I think he did that on purpose so we would get interested in stones. It was a fun day.
The end of the school year is when I read the journal entry and died quietly because it sounded like we were thieves in Dan's store! Mrs. Gault, second grade teacher at the time, never said a word, not even a raised eyebrow. I learned much from Dan and Mrs. Gault about the importance of not over reacting. The only way I was ever going to raise my consciousness was to keep unwanted thoughts at a minimum. Sure wish I wasn't still trying to overcome this one especially after the recent bus stop incident. I had noticed a giant of a man looking at me while I was fumbling with my keys to my new office space. Yes, I was nervous, he kept looking in my direction. With perfect timing, as the door unlocked, he leaped from the bench and toddled towards me. Eeek! I screamed, shoving myself inside fast as I could. He screamed too. That's when I noticed the big bus. The big bus that the big man was afraid he wouldn't catch. Later it was obvious that he was mentally challenged and his eyes were as scared as mine.
How many times have I accidentally offended because I got the wrong idea? Oh to be like my old friend Dan, the quiet observer. Someday, yes, someday..
