Weird shit happens to me from time to time. Been this way for years. I’ll be going about my ordinary day, and someone will approach me out of the blue with news, with something they feel compelled to tell me. It’s happened with total strangers; with people just introduced to me; and with people known to me – but, honestly, not so known to me that I would feel comfortable with asking them a lot of personal questions.
An aunt would watch my brother and me when our parents would go out. She perhaps was the first. She would bring me cassette tapes, sharing her music with me, telling me she felt compelled to do so. “Something inside me tells me you should focus on music,” she’d explain to me. I was five years old at the time. I know the time period because I totally remember when she shared the release of Manfred Mann’s Blinded By The Light.
My best friend’s dad used to have these amazing holiday parties at his mansion in Huntington Harbour during the Annual Boat Parade. One time, at around 14 years of age, we got awfully drunk at one of those holiday parties, taking drinks while blending in with the large crowd that was going in-and-out of the house, on-and-off the dock and boat.
It wasn’t until the next morning during breakfast that my friend’s dad explained that the old woman bothering me all night, asking me what I liked to do, what interests me, because something inside her was telling her I was gonna do great things one day, was his personal/professional psychic; that she works with law enforcement in finding kidnapped and lost children; that she also works with horse breeders in choosing which foals to train for derby; that, simply put, she was a legend among psychics.
Leaving the bathroom at work, heading back to my office, someone asked me for a minute by the elevators. I was curious and excited, as she’s a little bit younger and incredibly attractive. “I need to tell you that you have the Gift of Service,” she softly tells me. “I know this sounds weird, but it’s my … my faith.” I didn’t know what to say, how to respond. Her comments immediately disarm me, and as she went on to discuss the Holy Spirit and how people are sometimes sent to help, I was frozen.
I could go on with more past examples, but the reason for raising these things today concerns my morning coffee. “Do you work with children,” the young woman asks me from across the drive-thru coffee shack. She’s not the one serving me, but the other one, serving the other window. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure how to say this, but I feel compelled to tell you that you should work with children.” I can tell she feels weird about telling me.
“I actually work for the State, which is kinda like working with children,” I give back, unfortunately, before noticing this is another one of “those” moments. She looked hurt, like she was expecting a different response. Her co-worker, just trying to complete my coffee transaction in the little shack, now annoyed by this crossing of streams, steps aside. I could now see what was going on. I wanted to tell her that it’s gonna be okay; that it’s not her but me; that these weird things sometimes happen to me from time to time; that everything is truly gonna be okay; that, I promise.
But I didn’t tell her those things. Instead, I told her: “Actually, it’s funny you say that to me, cause I hate my fucking job, and I really need to do something else, and I need to do something meaningful with my life, but I’m so fucking lost right now, I don’t know what the fuck to do.” At which time, although she’s probably 20 years younger than me, she just looks at me, with almost motherly eyes, and says: “I dunno, maybe it’s the Holy Spirit or something, but I really think you need to go work with children.”
What the fuck? If I close my eyes, I see several opportunities that involve children; representing/defending children with disabilities. Not all of them in California. Some of them in California. Some of them in Texas. Some of them given to me just days ago by Nicole. The reality is there really isn’t anything to do now. I don’t know how to clear this brain, but I need to – I need to find some space to think – and nothing can be decided until I clear this monkey brain. This most surely will be an epic transition year, but I just kinda wish I knew what sort of epic transition to expect.