After Pilates, I sat in my car, unsure where to eat before heading home. Maybe Mexican food at the Pantry, a spot at Pasqual’s community table in the Plaza, or a stop at Joe’s Dining? But once again, I felt pulled to Applebee’s.
I often share with my clients how it feels when Spirit leads you. It’s a gentle pull or nudge, not something you plan or think through. There’s a lightness to it. I started the car and, without hesitation, drove down Cerrillos Road, catching green lights almost the whole way, even during rush hour.
I parked, walked into Applebee’s, and sat at the counter—(Oh, yes, the bar). After ordering my usual wonton tacos, steamed broccoli, and a Chardonnay, I looked up and saw a familiar face: the woman with the big red-rimmed glasses I’d met before. I also noticed a local I’d seen in the past, usually at the end of the bar with his friends. This time, he was alone and waved at me.
I looked back at the gal across the way. “Hey there!” she exclaimed, “How ya doin’? You have a birthday coming up, right?” I forgot that we’d shared the privileges of ‘olderness’ when we first met. I must have let it slip that my twin bro and I are about to slide into the next decade.
“It’s good to see you again,” she said.
“Yes, thank you,” I replied. “I like to come here sometimes after Pilates.”
She turned to the fellow and exclaimed, "Can you believe she’s turning 80?”
“— and you still do Pilates?” the guy asked.
“Sure,” I replied.
“Hey,” asked the gal, “did you ever do Pilates with that woman...what was her name? I think she died...”
“Mari Winsor?”
“Yes, that’s her!” she said.
I told her I used to exercise to her videos, even when I was traveling. I remembered she had been one of Michael Jackson’s dancers. It was so sad when she passed away from ALS. I also used to work out to Jane Fonda’s videos.
“JANE FONDA?” called out a guy two seats over, someone I barely noticed when I first sat down. He was focused on his phone, and I hadn’t wanted to interrupt. He seemed about my age, maybe a bit younger.
“DON’T MENTION HER NAME!” he insisted, “I’m a Viet Nam vet, and I lost several friends in ‘Nam! I hate her!”
I said, “She’s written that it has been her biggest regret in life, the part she played as a passionate activist during the Vietnam War, and the photo of her taken with the Viet Cong was a huge mistake.”
The gal across from me joined in, “Hey, you know, I always say that when you get to be older, you can say what you really mean! No holding back!”
I joined in, “I often think of the song from the Disney movie Frozen: 'Let it go, let it go!' I once saw a little kid marching down the grocery aisle, singing it at the top of his lungs. It was so cute, and what a great message!”
“Yeah, but I CAN'T LET THAT GO!” he said, looking right at me. That began our in-depth conversation.
He said his name was Jim. Turns out, he grew up in Santa Ana, CA, and had stories about his abusive father, how he left home at an early age, got into drugs and “a whole lot of trouble,” and eventually joined the military when he was nineteen.
I told him that I also grew up in So CA, in La Cañada, near Pasadena, and that my family actually went to the opening of Disneyland in Anaheim, back in the 50s! “You drove through miles of orange groves to get there!”
I can’t remember exactly how our conversation shifted, but soon it turned to more metaphysical topics. I think it started when Jim talked about his abusive father.
He told me his story: “When my father was dying, I received a call from the hospital with the news that he had passed away. The nurse said, “Your father left a note for you at his bedside. Would you like me to read it to you?”
He said to the nurse, “No, that’s okay, he already told me!”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “Ohhh...he sent you those thoughts? He transmitted to you through the airwaves?”
“Uh, yeah,” he said. “I guess you could put it that way. Makes me think there’s actually something to, what do you call it, telepathy.”
“Oh, yes,” I replied, and you can probably guess where our conversation went from there. Jim told me he knows about ‘synchronicities.’ Then he said, “See this?” and showed me the gold ring on his left hand.
“What is it?” I asked, leaning in to get a better look.
“It’s YIN and YANG!” he said, his eyes looking bright.
“Ah, yes!” I said, ‘The way seemingly opposite forces can exist in harmony!”
“Uh-huh!’ he replied.
Then I shared a perspective that’s central to my work, adding a metaphysical angle after mentioning that I’m an intuitive spiritual counselor.
I told him I believe we come back to this physical
world to face challenges, and sometimes even hardships that feel unbearable. These experiences make us ask important questions, and when things get too hard or even intolerable, we’re forced to surrender to a Higher Power. We let go of our plans and expectations. That’s when miracles and amazing insights can move us forward in ways we never expected.
“Yes,” he said, “I get what you’re saying.”
I added that sometimes people come into our lives to challenge us—maybe someone like your father, or even a public figure like Jane Fonda.
Jim frowned. I asked him, “Do you know what projection is?”
“Yeah,” he said, “it's when you blame someone.”
“Well, sort of,” I said. “It’s really helpful to notice what, or who, you find yourself judging or even condemning, and then ask yourself, 'Why do I notice that? Why am I drawn to that person? Why do I even care?'”
“Well, I certainly have cause to hate...”
“I know,” I said, “I don’t blame you. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. But sometimes you can learn a lot about yourself when you turn it around and ask what you despise so strongly.
“Interesting,” Jim said.
“And there’s one more thing,” I said. “I believe some souls are born into very difficult, even abusive, childhoods to give them something to push against. These experiences show you what’s important and help shape your priorities as you grow up.”
“Do you have any children, Jim? I asked.
“Yes,’ he said, pulling out the picture of a good-looking young man. “I love that boy!” he said. I commented that his son must indeed be special.
“I would never treat him the way my father treated me!” he said.
“Do you see what I mean, Jim? Your dad served as a backdrop you’ve pushed against with a resolve to be a much better father to your own son.”
“Yeah,” I get that,” he said.
“I have to go now, Jim.”
“Sure, and hey, I hope I see you here again sometime!”
“Maybe so. I’ve certainly enjoyed chatting with you!”