A Course In Miracles
By Anonymous
“I sense pain in your heart. Peaceful pain. ” She said.
As I walked through Adams Morgan, I had come across a psychic/medium. I had just come back from a different city and needed to walk around among strangers to process the events from earlier that day.
“Let me take a look at your palms.” She said. “You’re not from here, right? But it is your heart’s desire to be here, correct?”
I’m not exactly sure how/why I came across as a tourist or why she talked about pain. I didn’t give my curiosity much thought and dismissed my internal urges with skepticism — Those are universal experiences and she had a 50% chance of being correct about my place of origin. She continued. Though I was skeptical about her words, I followed her to her special “work” room and we talked for about an hour.
As I exited her nook, I shed a tear. “Before Sunrise, Before Sunset…” I thought.
Earlier that day:
Sacred Circle. The Potomac. The Fish Market.
“This is where I had my last drink.” You said. I remember sitting on the top portion of the bench as you sat below. A million thoughts and memories ran through my mind, as I asked you to hold my rings so I could give you a massage. You were tense, very tense. I couldn’t give you a massage – It almost felt as if your spirit was rejecting my touch. I stopped and told you to find a professional masseuse. We laughed it off. After a bit more talk, we got up and you told me you were going to take me to the coffee shop where your art was on display and the girl you were seeing was working.
In the previous week, I had had this dream. I had even heard her name in my dream. I knew. I was curious to see how you were going to bring it up – was my dream going to “come true” or were going to take a different route? Just as in my dream, in a park, on a bench – you followed through and executed it as you did in my dream.
As we made our way to the coffee shop, we talked – about numerology, life paths, relationships, etc. – I remember at one point you attempted to hug me after I showed you a very important gold coin. I accepted your hug after a bit of hesitation. As we made our way back to the main street of your town, we saw one of your bosses from afar. We then made our way to the coffee shop. I saw your art and I met her. She was beautiful – tall, slim, fair skin and dark hair with an air of mystery. She commented on my earrings, we left.
I was under the impression that you weren’t getting on the metro. I thought you were going to go home through another mode of transportation. Then I realized you were. “We’ll chill on the platform and take different trains. THEN I can cry.” I thought to myself. I was ready to get on that metro and let the tear ducts open up. I’ve never been one to cry in public, but in that moment I needed to feel relief and I needed space to dwell in my gratitude. However, you were taking the same train as I. “You can hold on a bit longer.” I thought to myself.
In that moment we both experienced a miracle, a shift in perception. Earlier that day, we had briefly talked about time. “Time exists so that everything doesn’t happen at once.” Life is a series of cycles – with all ends come new beginning and with all new beginnings come an end. We only become aware of these cycles once in a while – never all at once. When we come to such realizations and fully embrace and accept them regardless of outcome, even if we feel pain, miracles happen, major shifts in our perception begin to take place. Those miraculous moments are crucial – they’re the moments that become engrained in our memories, the moments that justify our existence for the days and years to come. Everything we do is to learn how to love a little more. All that we experience is to grow a little more. I was glad that the Universe gave me chance to see you once more – healthy, glowing, living, breathing. That day was a divine gift. On that platform we both realized that two years prior, on the very last weekend in April we too had met, in a nearby city. On the train ride – we talked about writers: Fitzgerald, C.S. Lewis, Chuck Palahniuk. It was a pleasant conversation.
Upon arriving to Gallery Place, I awkwardly hugged you goodbye and made my way to catch a different train. I remember getting on the escalator and looking down and seeing an image of you – Your head against the train window as you appeared to gaze at the seat in front of you with those thoughtful eyes. As the vehicle drove away, I put my ear buds in, and pressed shuffle:
Stop this train
I want to get off and go home again
I can’t take the speed it’s moving in
I know I can’t but honestly won’t someone stop this train
In that moment, I allowed my self to shed a tear. That single tear turned into a torrential downpour.
Those tears were tears of gratitude.
Thank you. I’m so very proud of whom you’ve become. Thank you for all the lessons you taught me. You will forever hold a very special place in my heart, my dear friend.