In my attempts to write about my experiences on the path of becoming a healer I mentioned hearing what sounded like heavenly wind chimes, but there was no wind and no chimes anywhere around. I later read about music of the spheres and maybe other people gave it some other names that I don’t remember just now.
Another phenomenon I experienced was a heavenly aroma, at times it was like honeysuckle and other times magnolia, but both were lighter, more delicate and exquisite if you will. I think if I shook my head or moved fast I’d lose the scent and might not be able to tune into it again right away, if ever again.
Those etherial sounds and scents made me stop and pay attention. Like I intuitively knew it wouldn’t last long and I wanted to take in as much of it as I could. It wasn’t like a firefly you might catch and put in a jar on your nightstand and fall asleep marveling at the mystery of it. I wish I could though, you know, linger with it as I went into dreams.
There were so many more fireflies when I was a kid, at least that’s my memory of them. Still, even though they were plentiful I got the idea none of them belonged in a jar, and I’d set them free in the morning when I woke. Feeling a little guilty for trapping them like that.
A few days ago I was in a long-distance phone conversation that touched on many subjects in a relaxed pace, and it was late on my side of the country. There were pauses between sentences and I knew I’d soon be heading for bed. During one of the pauses I picked up a scent of cannabis, and I knew the person on the other end of the line had muted his phone and took a hit of weed. When he unmuted his phone I mentioned it and there was no denial, more like wondering how I knew it. I don’t know how I knew.
That’s not the first time I’ve picked up on that kind of thing. One person it happened with kept trying to figure out how I did that. Could I have heard it? No, the phone was muted. Was his voice different? No, not that I could tell. How then? It seems I could talk around it, try to explain how it’s done, but that would be speculating. Psychic ability I suppose.
Today I was out for a drive and was thinking about someone when my nose started to burn, like I was breathing second-hand smoke, or sniffing a dirty ashtray. And there was the smell of alcohol. I realized what was happening and I forced myself to shift my attention to other things, other people. And I wondered what scents others might pick up on when they think of me.
I had a fleeting thought of sanitizing my thoughts, of thinking higher, finer thoughts, or of surrendering thinking altogether, in an intermittent fasting sort of way. Maybe I’d appreciate my thinking processes a bit more if I didn’t do it automatically, out of habit. I’ve always appreciated the times I’ve been aware that my thinking had stopped for a while. It’s refreshing. It feels like life is living me instead of me living life. There’s an effortless expansiveness about it. I feel kind of breezy and forget about time when it happens.
I’m done for today. It’s time to brush my teeth and go to bed.
Sweet dreams and things.