The Gift of Intuition

The Gift

In life we meet many people; they affect our lives in many ways.  There are a few experiences that affect our whole life, teaching us the gift of living.  I never would have thought a blessing could be received in someone dying.

The rhythmic shuffling of the traffic dims to the clattering, and honking of the cars, mixing fragrant air with the dirty burning smell of gas.  I closed the window to exchange the odor for a perfumed scent.   The ringing of the phone drummed out the music as the soft voice on the phone said “Are you on the way?”  I smiled and replied “Yes I am!”  As I entered Nancy’s house, I thought how beautiful the angel and the Buddha’s statues displayed throughout the house.  In the great room was a bed set up like a hospital.  She sat up watching television, a pretty lady with walnut skin and short dark curly hair.  She had an innocence about her that transcended her age.   I felt like I knew her all my life, instantly falling in love with her.  Our friendships seem like lifetimes instead of 3 years.  There was gladness in our eyes as they met.   Nancy always had a cheerful and gracious quality about her.   She spoke with a bubbling chatter and tranquil manner.  “Hi Leona, This is going to be fun; It is like having my sister with me now”. We laughed and talked through the evening as girlfriends do.  Her husband, Richard is of Italian descent, tall and round, shapely man.  He could be an unpolished, materialistic, and unprincipled man at times.  Nancy always saw the best in Richard, whereas, I sometime saw it in a flicker.  I looked at him, smiling at us, kissing Nancy and patting my shoulder, while I’m thinking, “guess he’s not so bad.”   He retired that evening leaving us to bond.  Our days played out like a fantasy novel full of magical experiences.   One day, she looked at me; grabs my arm and pulls me down next to her.   She looks overwhelmed by her thoughts, and takes a breath before she speaks;” Leona, you are an angel; I see a ray of light like the sun, coming through the …… And it fills your heart.  It is amazing!”   We love to talk, One of the talks she liked the best was “Cultivation.” Cultivation is likened to a farmer who is preparing his garden to grow.  He must first prepare the soil (his mind) through the process of tilling.  He looks at the quality of seeds (his thoughts) before he plants to make sure he always plants the good seeds.  He waters (Spiritual teachings) his garden.  He checks (Reflects on himself) his garden every day to keep out foreign enemies (bad thoughts).    The farmer will see a good harvest.  We were sitting outside, Nancy chattering away. Then, out of nowhere, she starts to talk about birds. She says “Birds are God’s messengers, they report to God”.  As we sat enjoying the gentle summer breeze, a deep canary yellow bird sat on the fence in front of us.  Nancy kept talking, not really paying any attention to the bird.   I looked at the bird in detail, noticing the rectangle mask around his eyes, and his wings were black.  I took notice of the time because he sat there a long time, as if he was enjoying our conversation.  I thought, “He looks as if he belonged to someone.”   At that moment she said, “That is your bird.”  I asked, What is your bird?   She said, “Red cardinal”; that evening, one sat in the fig tree outside the kitchen window while we were washing the evening dishes.

That night, I was awaked to wailing; Nancy was visibly shaken. With her trembling soft voice she recants the dream of a man in a dark coat attempting to hold her.     She ran from him as fast as she could and she woke up.  The next day she was anxious, preoccupied in her thoughts. She looked at me with sad eyes and said “Why do I have to die?”  “We all have our time” I told her, it is okay to be sad, cry if you want to.  She let out a loud cry that echoed through the house. Her scream of anguish pierced my soul that it erupted a fountain of tears flowing from my eyes.  I spoke from my heart to her, “so many times we can only see what is before us but do we really see?  Most of the time, it is our fears we see.  This is the time, when faith becomes strong and; we hold to the Truth that God does not leave us alone”.

The next day was more calm and peaceful.  Nancy looked at me, and said, “I am happy.” I was surprised by her comment but I learned in that moment that happiness requires nothing.     I smiled and said “me too.”  Later that evening she kept trying to get up like she had somewhere to go but was not sure where she was going.  It was hard to get her to relax for longer than thirty minutes.   About 3 A.M, I woke up to the front door opening and Nancy running out into the night.  I screamed her name, Richard ran from the back of the house.  We ran for the front door as we watched, Nancy running into the night, screaming “Richard! Richard!”  She tripped and fell over the plants brushed in a row.   Richard ran and picked her up as if his strength could save her.   His eyes were glassy, holding her as if she were a valuable art that was fragile to touch.   He brought her back into the house and, as he laid her down, she fell into deep sleep.

This morning was very different. The energy in the room was like feeling the warmth of the sun at sunrise.  The air was light and fluffy like stepping into a garden, feeling safe looking out to an opening of a beautiful sea.   Nancy was snoring loudly.  I felt the urge to read to her.  I was drawn to a big blue book with gold raised letters, “Course in Miracles.”  I opened the book to a page that read “Fear of the Body, Fear of Death and Fear of God,” all topics aligned that way.  As I begin to read, Nancy stopped snoring.  When I stopped reading, she went back to snoring.   I washed her body as she laid there.  She burred two words” 4:20 and oh Papa.”   Her eyes are fixed, but I could feel her alertness even though it appeared she was not.  I climbed on her bed and held her.  I asked, “God please help my friend, take away her fear, let her know she is not alone.”   My heart felt as if someone gave me back the love I felt for her.   I felt peace rush over me as if someone took a pail of cool water and poured it over my body.  I fell asleep with her.   Her thunderous snoring woke me.  The energy in the house had changed.  It was more reticulated as if it was crossing the dimensions of time and space.    I felt all that day like I was being watched but, I sensed no danger.  I kept feeling as if I was listening to a harp playing a beautiful song; soft, and loving celestial sound, but there was no sound.   A thought cross my mind… she is safe.  I watched as she left this life, to be born into another.   I exploded inside with grief as my cries echoed in the night.   I calmed myself to listen as Richard read her journal in attempt to hold her with her words.  A quiet whisper inside my head said, “Look at the clock” the clock said 4:20, I felt air fill the room as if a window had been opened.  A fragrance filled the room, forced its way up my nose to insure I acknowledged it.   Nancy is here, I thought.

At the burial site, I looked to the clear blue sky that pillowed with fluffy white clouds thinking about her, and I saw four birds flying two to a circle.   Maybe it was that 4:20 message again.  A few months later,   out of nowhere,  I got an image of Nancy, and in my thoughts I hear her soft pattern words “Hi” I could see her image, sitting in a room listening to someone.  I felt an elegant and nimble quality about her.  In my thoughts she continues to say it is important to cultivate yourself, Grow in Virtue, and Merits, Live your Truth, because it counts in the end.    It must be wishful thinking?  Please give a sign so I will know.   I was interrupted by a group of birds flying off the roof of a house.  In another vision, I saw red cardinal in a tree, I thought about Nancy.  My thought turns to my appointment.   I hurry up the stairs, not wanting to be late, I walked into the receptionist office; on the desk is a plant and in it, a red  cardinal.  My eyes filled with tears and my heart with joy to know my friend gave me the gift on how to live.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: