Connections

He walked right up and began to direct questions at me. Interrupted from reading, I was defensive about men approaching me and his entitlement to ask me questions put me off. I was less than receptive. But his intention was firm and did not flinch at my wall of resistance. He merely “expected” an answer. As we learn in teacher crash course, if you expect it, they (expectations) will be met.

“Where do you live?” He asked with no uncertainty.
“Why do you want to know?” I retorted back.
“I just want to know if you live around here.” He replied undeterred.
“I live on that boat over there, the second from the left.” He offered. “I just moved into it May 2 because of my desire to minimize my carbon footprint.”

He was melting my resistance. I was piqued. Who is he? What does he want?

That‘s the thing about soul messengers. They don’t want anything. They don’t even know why they’re talking to me. At least that’s how it seems. They just talk as if it’s the most natural thing. And the topics never need preface. They just flow in a stream of consciousness. Coming from no beginning and fading into no ending. Somehow, the message is always exactly what I need to hear at that moment in time.

I thought of other soul messengers who have blipped into my life so far: The UXO detonator at Aberdeen who popped his head over my cubicle wall as I was transitioning into the first few weeks of my first job. He invited me to dinner that night for a similar interchange; Conversations that began before we met and continued into the smoke of the future; Insights of things and people he could not have known around me. UXO detonators are paid so well because of the risk of being blown up, he only worked three months out of the year. The rest of the year he spent kayaking and camping our nation’s waterways.

Joe, the left handed entomologist from Georgia, coming through DC at the end of my exploratory year at the National Science Foundation, just before a huge shift as I traveled to Taiwan. After a day-long meeting about non-chemical pest management systems, he also invited me out to dinner for soul searching conversation.

Julius King, who dropped his job at the Pentagon one day to live on the streets: “It was something I knew I had to do.” Emerging into my life at Funk’s, the vegan coffeshop one block down on Eastern Avenue, again at a distressed emotional transition moment in my life. Waving me down on Eastern Avenue during a downpour from the open window of his car, “Hey! Hey, I just wanted to say hi.” Who are you? What do you want?

They all seem to have a similar vibe to them; something free, unattached, yet balanced and weathered about their lives. They come in and then, blink! Out without a trace. All in the same way: with a presumption and entitlement to be there. To engage. To speak. Do you know me?

Tom Maze, West Virginia native, PhD in English, Masters in psychology, gifted with a love of literature and universal ideas, will weather the winter this year in Baltimore in his 45 foot sailboat until he can get his office mobile. Then he will run his company while sailing around the world. He offers out of the blue to guide my writing. Who says angels aren’t looking after me?

Another soul come to deliver a message. Another connection for a reason. But I know exactly why. I know my reasons. And I am only eternally grateful to the guides and angels. To the universe.

Thank You.