The Beginning Of A Story That Began In Another Time - Part III
In a story that began in our May issue, I started out by going into a past life experience that took place over 700 years ago. This month’s installment features the players from the previous incarnation, and the vicissitudes of fate and Karma that have placed all of them in their respective roles, this time around. (If you have not read the first two installment, click here for PT: 1 and click here for PT: 2)
The conversation on the ride home was full of speculation on the deeper meaning of what had just taken place; the girls spent three hours making a big deal out of it. I was too blown away to find words for what was going on inside me. By the time we got back to West Pawlet there was nothing left to think about but what it would take to get this guy to fly across the country and teach us everything he knew. What that would turn out to be, I had no clue. All I can tell you is it felt like something good was going on and I was going to do whatever it took to be 100% there for it.
Prior to leaving the convention hall I wrote out a check for an Environmental Harmonizer. These were the units that Slim used in the pollution clearing work that he did in Denver, Phoenix, Mexico City, and Cairo back in the ’90′s. Having heard all about those experiments, I bought this gadget with two-hundred-and-fifty bucks and all the faith in the world. Once I got home and got it up and running, pretty much everything turned around; I swear to God it was like something came along and changed the channel.
Back in those days I was in a relationship with a hard core Marine. He was a special forces, gun-nut, totally anti-social caveman by the name of Butch. Butch and I had been trying to mimic some level of normalcy for over 12 years. The how and why of that situation is something that I have yet to figure out, but by 2001, what had been “Mission Impossible” from the get-go, was over and done with.
The minute I got back to the house I set the Environmental Harmonizer up in the living room and left it to do its thing. Around suppertime, Butch popped in to see if I was cooking anything. He opened the door, circled once around the chopping block, stood for a minute over the pot of chili that was cooking on the stove, until he finally opened his mouth to say: “I can’t do this anymore”
I didn’t even bother to ask him what he meant. Things were so old and so over, in less than two minutes, 12 years of insanity, which amounted to the two of us thinking that if we just kept trying we would actually be able to get a cup of coffee out of a Coke machine, was gone with the wind – and so was Butch. Part of me was amazed; another part of me wondered if the Harmonizer had something to do with it. Was it the frequencies? Was it the displacement factor?
RULE #1
Re: The Harmonizers: Higher frequencies always displace lower frequencies: as in, the muscle bound boyfriend with violent tendencies has no choice but to vacate the premises when the atmosphere is saturated with love and light.
With the main issue, or the thing that had sucked up so much of my energy, no longer there, the whole house and my entire life opened up to make room for something else to enter. In the next forty days I made a quantum leap that taught me a lot about what happens when the matrix starts humming at the speed of light. It wasn’t a theoretical thing; I could see changes everywhere.
The colors were the first things to change; they got brighter. The geraniums blew up bigger than the hydrangeas and the hydrangeas went from blue to rose. The Gypsy Moths disappeared. Instead of running all over the neighborhood, the dogs only left the yard to poop. My teenage daughter turned into a human being. Within a month or so I dropped forty pounds without diet or exercise, and published my first book.
RULE #2
Re: The Harmonizers; the changes that occur from one person to another will always be in keeping with what is in their highest good. There is no need to ‘Intend’ anything. Intentions can limit the realm of possibilities. We don’t know enough about the laws of transmutation to know what is needed. Let the light be the one to decide what it needs to do and where it needs to go, and know that your experience will be totally unique to you.
In and around all of this I was thinking about what pulling together a workshop for Slim would involve. Scheduled toward the end of July, I knew I would have no problem getting the requisite minimum of 25 people to show up; after all, why would anyone in their right mind say no to an opportunity to learn everything they could from the man who had developed the technology to clean up 80% of the pollution on the planet?
It never occurred to me that my friends and neighbors, and many who purported to be environmentally awake, would show no interest in Slim or his research. They were OK with taking their plastic and metal and paper down to the recycling center, and all for growing their own, but the minute I started talking to anyone about frequencies, quantum effects, and ancient Egyptian measurements no one wanted to hear it.
A week before Slim was due to arrive only six people were signed up for his workshop. In a last ditch effort to spread the word I took a ride down to Troy, New York to do a radio talk show with Slim, live on the other line; unfortunately no one was listening. The next morning I woke up tearing my hair out, crying, wondering why there didn’t seem to be any way to pull this together. When my angst ran out of steam I got dressed, hopped in the car, and threw myself at the mercy of my meditation group.
God knows where the guided imagery was headed that morning, but it couldn’t have gotten too far when shortly after 9AM, I stormed in and told everybody to pull their heads out of their asses and wake the fuck up! The spirit of some Biker chick turned Holy Roller took me over and railed at those people for a good ten minutes about what happens to a person when they wake up and realize that all the meditation and sacred bullshit in the world isn’t going to fix this mess. I think I said. “Fuck you and your holiness. This isn’t about you, your peace of mind, or your headache; stop contemplating your navel and your issues long enough to open your eyes and see that the Earth is dying.”
My hysteria conjured up nine more participants; with the six from before it still wasn’t enough. Three days before the Spurlings were due to fly out of Denver I called to tell Katharina that we only had fifteen people signed up and for them to cancel their tickets.
Instead of having a problem with this, she told me not to worry about a thing. She and Slim had already decided that he would fly up to Vermont and do the workshop on his own. I was elated. Now all I had to do was stock up on coffee, and bacon and eggs, and figure out what to do with Slim staying at my house for what would turn out to be ten days.
To be continued
Cal Garrison
Is a practicing astrologer with 40 years of experience. An author of five books to her credit, Cal is well known for her affiliation with the late Slim Spurling. A single mother with three grown daughters, Cal lives happily in the red rocks of Sedona, Arizona. She can be reached at cal.garrison@gmail.com