Remember The Moon (22 page)

This was not at all what I intended. I thought we would be able to talk through the issues I had, face to face. I was not prepared to have the entire relationship end in an email. I learned from Dom how important it was to remain who you are in a relationship, and yet, paradoxically, he was unwilling to accept me for who I was. I suppose I too was unwilling to accept him.

This new loss has penetrated my carefully constructed shield of grief deeper than I am willing to admit. Another man present one minute and gone the next. Another round of self-recriminations.

Can you possibly still love me, wherever you are? - Maya

T
he invisible thread connecting me to Maya pulled taut after her breakup with Dom, accompanied by her renewed sense of loss. I was yanked back from the euphoria of being released from my humanness, as if I had just come to the end of my bungeed tether that continued to connect my soul with Maya's. I bounced back into human despair.

I had little effect on the human world, but I paid Dominic a late night visit as he sat hunched over his desk scrolling through nude pictures of women on his giant iMac screen. A photo of Maya appeared and for a moment I saw a white flash and then Dom’s computer went dark. He swore, pushed the power button several times, but nothing happened. He rummaged under the desk to unplug and replug the computer and hard drives, but I didn’t have to hang around to know that all his hard drives were fried by my little electrical hiccup.

After writing her letter to me, Maya lay back down and pulled the covers over her head. I surrounded her in white light as Alice had taught me to do, partly to defend myself and spin,” the lecturer continued. “Then, by virtue of attempting to measure these qualities, when one of the objects displays a certain characteristic, such as moving clockwise, then the other object shows the opposite, corresponding characteristic; it moves counterclockwise.”

I couldn’t figure out where this guy was going with this reasoning.

Ah, human-Jay. Wax-on, wax-off, my son.

I laughed. My dad hadn’t lost his human sense of humor.

“Humans are discovering that separation of particles is illusory. Physicists are loath to take this idea a step further, but in the same way that particles are bound, it is also possible for two living organisms to have an ongoing connection after one of them dies.”

I didn’t need some theory to tell me that Maya and I were still connected.

But don’t you want to understand
how
you’re connected to Maya?
My Dad’s thought was clear.

Apparently, I do.

The lecturer continued. “Those experiencing the loss of a loved one feel a connection to that person through memory, a kind of ‘after-glow’ that happens after a death occurs – a manifestation of Entanglement. Everything in the universe is linked, making an ongoing connection between life and death possible. Such connection transcends an individual completely, as so many religions decree when they talk about being connected individually to a greater whole. Entanglement theory parallels the idea behind ‘collective consciousness’. If we are all a part of a universal reality, then every action we make is an event that affects all other aspects of this reality.”

I would have called this Entanglement idea of connection between the living and the dead bunk if I were alive, but it all seemed pretty obvious to me now.

“Humans are so close to understanding, but are unwilling to believe the unmeasurable.”

I would never have believed in being connected to Maya after my death.

And yet, you have affected her by surrounding her in white light,
my dad responded.

I didn’t do anything.

You did a lot. It’s a good defense mechanism. You’re recognizing when that needs to happen, both for her and for you. You’re evolving nicely, J.J.

If I were alive, I would have smirked at my dad’s comment.

You make me sound like a species of small monkey, Dad. Very Darwin.

I suppose I do.
I sensed my dad’s old laughter, though I couldn’t hear it.

But seriously, I don’t really feel as though I’m evolving. I feel like I’m weakened by Maya's grief.

As if in answer, the lecturer continued. “A spirit cannot be weakened by a human, but it’s common for some spirits to be slower than others in releasing their human responses to emotion.”

Now it seemed the lecturer was speaking directly to me.

“The process of a spiritual evolution is to completely free yourself from all that made you human, while at the same time remembering all you have learned from your human lifetimes. The evolution of a soul is a natural progression, but one that has no timetable. As you know, it’s part of our soul’s path to maturity that we help those on the earth-plane. But we need to help humans in a way that still allows us to be free of our human tendencies. You have a choice whether or not to help your loved ones. Just as they have a choice whether or not to ask for or accept your help. Each of you must express your needs, either orally or in thought. There must be free will on both sides. As humans or souls, we always have a choice about whether or not we want to evolve.”

When the lecture ended, my dad and I continued our thought-conversation, though our thoughts and the lecture had been intertwined. It was impossible to hide one’s thoughts to those who were attuned to them and the lecture simply interspersed our thoughts, as it did for all the spirits gathered.

So it’s normal to feel weakened?

Yes, right now it is, J.J. You’re still learning how to protect yourself from the negative brain waves humans express during times of heightened emotion. When you used the white light, it not only protected Maya from herself, it protected you from her as well.

That makes sense. I did feel a little better with the white light. So now what? How do I help her?

I think you have the answer to that already, but you are unwilling to consider it, since it goes against your human sense of pride.

What are you trying to tell me?

That you’re getting in your own way J.J. It’s time for you to remember where you came from.

I know where I came from. I came from you and Mom.

That’s not what I mean. It’s time for you to have a look and remind yourself of the plotting process.

You’re not making any sense, Dad.

Earlier, you viewed the tablet that allowed you to recapture your meeting with Maya in Pompeii. That was me reminding you that you and the people in your life plotted your lives together before ever being born into your lives on Earth. The tablets allow you to view or recapture moments in your human life so you can decide if people, locations, and actions are in keeping with what it is you hope to achieve in your lifetime. You can recapture these moments any time you wish. Sometimes they give you perspective on events that happened in your lifetime and why they may have happened in the way that they did.

The circular room I transported to looked as if the walls were made of ice, not unlike what I imagined the inside of an igloo to look like. Light of varying colors throbbed behind the walls, giving the impression of an Aurora Borealis or a rave-club sky. I gathered with a tightly knit group of four other orbs of light, each hovering over what appeared to be a pane of glass, though I couldn’t tell if it was glass or simply a hole in the atmosphere. When I looked into the hole, I watched a young Maya bounding up a set of steps, two at a time, chased by a teenaged Marcus. She flew onto a bed, and he followed her, landing beside her and rolling on top of her as they kissed. Two of the orbs, which I now realized were the spirits of Maya and Marcus, emitted auras of pink light which I felt as love, pure and innocent. The scene blackened for a moment before lighting up again.

The next scene showed Marcus facing Maya, who stood with her back against a stone wall, crying.

“I’m sorry, Maya. It didn’t mean anything. You have to know I love you.”

“Love? What do you know about love? Apparently you prefer blondes.”

“I said I was sorry. Christ. What the hell do you expect me to do?”

“Go home, Marc, or go to Texas with your new ‘friend’. I don’t care.”

“I followed you all the way to fucking Italy for God’s sake.”

“Right. So you could screw Italian whores. I didn’t ask you to come, Marcus.”

Marc opened his mouth as if to speak but then his face turned red and he clenched his jaw shut. “You didn’t want me to come?” Maya looked down at the ground. Marcus looked incredulous. “And you wonder why I fooled around?”

“Oh, so that makes it all OK?”

“No, of course not, but...”

“Go home, Marcus.”

“I thought you wanted me to be with you.”

“I did, but not at the cost of my sanity. Or dignity. We don’t have the same interests. I want to be a serious painter. I’m here to become that. You are just here to have fun and screw around. I think we have different values.”

“What the fuck does that mean, different values?”

“I want to be in a monogamous relationship.”

“C’mon, Maya, it didn’t mean anything. I was drunk, and she put the pressure on.”

“And you couldn’t say no?” Maya asked.

“I made a mistake. It won’t happen again, I promise. I love you, Maya.” Marcus tried to pull her into his arms, but she pulled away. “You’re what matters to me, honestly. I’m never going to see that girl again.”

“I don’t care what you do.”

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“Too late.” Maya began to walk away, but Marcus, grabbed her elbow.

“I want to stay here with you, Maya. I love you.”

“We’ve grown apart, Marcus,” Maya said, pulling her arm out of his grip. “You don’t like my friends. You aren’t interested in talking about art. You sit around my apartment all day. You go to clubs all night to pick up little Italian tartlets or Texan cowgirls, apparently. You’re not a kid anymore, Marcus. Grow up.”

“It only happened the one time with one girl!”

“I can’t trust you anymore.”

“Do you want me to get a job? I’ll get a goddamned job if that’s what’ll make you happy.” Marcus’ jaw clenched.

“And that’s exactly the problem. You do things you think I want, but they aren’t what you want. Not deep down. You do them to make me feel like I mean something to you, and then you wind up resenting me for it, so you screw around on me. I want a man who doesn’t
need
me to make him happy, one who treats me with respect, one who knows what the hell it is he wants from life.”

“That’s not fair, Maya.”

“Go home, Marc.” Maya turned away from him and walked down the darkened street, tears rolling down her face.

Marcus stood there looking stricken. “I’m going to get you back, Maya, if it’s the last thing I do. I will always love you.” Marcus whispered the words, so Maya didn’t hear him.

I felt emotions of insecurity, helplessness, immaturity, and fear emitted from the spirit-souls of Marcus and Maya. I sensed that the third white orb hovering nearby was Calder.

It feels so painful. It’s overwhelming
, the Marcus-spirit communicated.
Is this what it feels like to be human?
A blanketed source of light seemed to be guiding our group through this process.

Yes. You will feel that human pain for just a moment in this realm, but as a human, it will feel much more acutely and it will last for a long duration. From that tiny moment of human pain, you must decide if you are willing to become this human. Becoming human is a choice. One that you need to make carefully. But you must understand that it is human pain that allows our spirit-souls to progress. It is the human suffering and our reaction to that suffering that become our lessons in the earth realm. Spiritual learning is something you will forget as a human. You may become victimized by your human suffering, or strengthened by it. That is your choice. Your spirit guides will be there to help you, of course. But you have to be willing to listen to their advice.

Why does any spirit-soul make the decision to become human with all that suffering?
Marcus’s spirit-soul asked.

It won’t all be pain. Your human life will contain much joy as well, but again, you have to make the choice to notice it. Are you willing to continue?

I couldn’t tell where this voice came from or whom it belonged to. I sensed it was some kind of spirit guide. The voice was soothing, possibly female, with a slight accent.

Yes. I can see how my separation from Maya might ultimately help me to understand more about myself. To become more capable of loving her.

Maya? Are you in agreement?
the spirit guide asked.

I feel devastated and lost. And yet stronger for having spoken my truth. Yes. I can see how such an experience would strengthen my human-soul.

Shall we continue?
The pane of glass lit up again.

This time the scene opened into a large wood-paneled room with slightly dilapidated leather wingback chairs atop blood red carpets setting off a large, jade colored tiled fireplace, with a warm fire crackling at its center. I recognized it as the lobby bar of the Sorrento Hotel in Seattle. A man sat in one of the wingbacks, visible only by gray flannel clad legs and expensive black leather shoes. The head-height wing of the chair obscured the rest of his body. Across the lobby, a hooded woman entered the hotel and smiled at the doorman who held the door for her. She stepped inside and pulled off her hood, auburn curls escaping their confinement. She looked around nervously and stepped up a few stairs into the lobby. She saw the outstretched legs, approached and whispered, “Marcus?” Marc poked his head around the wing of the chair and, seeing her, his face lit up. He stood up and faced her, smiling. His powdery blue shirt was unbuttoned and rolled at the sleeves. The stubbled creases down his cheeks gave him a rugged, masculine look on what would have otherwise been a boyish face. For a few moments neither said a word until Marcus pulled Maya into a hug she wasn’t prepared for.