A CHILD

I am learning. I have been able to climb the mountain and look back at the Earth and our drama here and simultaneously look into what comes next and anticipate meeting those who have gone before me. No I don't feel like I am leaving soon, in fact, I have never felt more alive, more and more I feel it is our choice when we leave.

I have always wondered, if when we arrive at our next destination, we will give a rats about the questions we have now. Will we want to know the truth about the Kennedy assassination? Maybe we won't care about what happened in our illusion. Does it really matter. How about personal stuff about relationships, with parents, siblings etc. Won't we still be interested in what was going on? I am curious now- will I be then?

I am curious about several of the dramas that affected my life. Here is one. One of my favorite relatives was my Mother's brother Gerard. We called him Jerry. He was my Godfather. I adored him the way a little boy loves and idolizes those almost grown up big boys in their life.

He was an Air Force pilot during WWII. He flew cargo planes over the Burmese mountains. He flew into a cloud bank, escaping from Japanese fighters, and crashed into a peak and was killed. I was haunted by the idea that I might have killed him. I knew it wasn't true.......... but still............ here is my story.

I was eight years old. I saw a movie at the Columbia Heights theatre that involved voodoo. I don't remember the name of the movie, I think the setting may have been Jamaica. A doll was made to represent a person and what was done to the doll the person suffered.

I was impressed, even obsessed wth the idea. I wanted to try it but I didn't want to injure anybody who was around. Who could I try it on and have the least impact on me and my immediate family? I settled on Jerry [God bless the 8 year old mind]. He was far away and not in our lives. I found some paper soldiers. I selected one and carefully hung it up on the alley side of our garage with a string and thumbtack. I lit it with a match.

The whole time I knew I was being silly and I also knew it was just silliness in subsequent years when it came back to haunt me.

I will never forget the moment I heard Jerry was killed in a fiery crash. My brother Garth and I slept in bunk beds in the basement. It was a quasi-finished room. The family bathroom was in the basement too. We lived in a small two bedroom bungalow. My Mother was halfway down the stairs and she said, “I have some sad news to tell you.” I knew instantly what it was, she went on, “Your Uncle Jerry was killed in a airplane crash.” It was devastating. I was already a shamed based child, having by that time spent three years in school getting mostly Fs and told how bad I was. Now I was a killer.

As I have said, I knew it was silly. I couldn't have really done it, but we humans live on different levels. We can think one thing in one part of our mind and believe the opposite in another. It was the last thing this child needed to experience. I was carrying too much weight already and it was all my fault- it was always my fault. And it was.

I have been able to slide over the meaning of this episode and I have told it relatively lightheartedly on occasion but upon recalling it today I cried profusely. My tears were for the child that I was, not to ease present pain. I have been at peace with the experience for many years. Well, the child may still exist in me and may have needed more expression. Ah..... that is taking care of the inner child.

So when I run into Jerry again, I am going to ask him, “What kind of a contract did we make before coming into this life?” I don't believe in accidents or coincidence. There was reason for this experience. I have a knowingness that there was more positive learning from it than the pain I experienced, but I cannot illustrate the learning.

I won't spend too much time in puzzling thought. It is past and I mean really past, it no longer cast a shadow.

I am going to climb back up that mountain and observe the Love that is engulfing the planet.

Happy Monday!

Love and Peace, Gregg