For you, the first day of class is the beginning. For the 30
other students in the class, it is the same day as it was yesterday. It is not
the beginning for them. It is the middle. Yet, for you, it is the beginning.
Don’t you feel like a circus animal? Everybody is staring at
you. The teacher is saying, “Class, please welcome Cindy to the class. Cindy,
you can sit at the empty desk over near the window on your right.”
And then starts that long, lonely walk as all eyes are
riveted upon you. You didn’t ask for this. It was your parents. You pleaded
with them not to send you to this new school in the middle of the year, but no,
they wouldn’t have it.
And so, you did the lonely walk again.
What made it worse was the two girls sitting one in front of
the other, pointing at you and giggling behind their hands. You have no idea
what they were talking about. It must be something bad.
Another boy sticks his finger up his nose and, at the same
time, sticks his tongue out at you. Gross. Watch out for that one.
Someone you’ve passed makes a farting noise behind your back
as you walk toward the empty desk the teacher told you to sit at.
You wonder, ‘Why are people so cruel?’
You have no books. The teacher has asked everyone to open
their Social Studies book to page 254. You haven’t taken your coat off. Nobody
told you where you could hang it up. You keep it on in case you are in the
wrong classroom.
Miss Tagget says, “Margaret, would you get a copy of the
text from the cupboard and take it to Cindy, please?”
Margaret simpers and says, “Yes, Miss Tagget.” Her butt
wiggles and her hair bounces as she prances to the front of the classroom. The
boy who stuck his finger in his nose does it for her, too. Now, I don’t feel as
bad. She leaves me the book and says, “It’s page 254.” I smile and nod my head
as a thank you. I don’t feel as if I could speak.
The day progresses in fits and starts. It’s not smooth. I
know it will be a long one. They always are these first days at school. I keep
my eyes to myself.
Originally, we moved from the coast. I loved the sea breeze.
I loved going to the beach on my own. I’d walk along the water looking for seashells
and polished rocks. I had decorated my windowsill at home with them. I even
scattered some sand on the sill because that would be a comfortable place for
the shells. It was another home for them. We’d lived there as long as I could
remember.
Then, it was time to move. I was seven years old at the
time. The place we’d moved to was a grimy city. There were awful noises at the
new place. I’d made a friend there, but we only had a year, and then we had to
move. Again.
The next place was out in the country. It was nicer there,
but I never did meet anyone I could be friends with. The school was small, and
everybody had been together forever. I did not fit in.
I never fit in again.
Now, it doesn’t matter. I’ve gotten used to it. On the plus
side, every place I live at is home. On the other side, I just don’t have any roots.
People ask me where I come from, and I have trouble answering, even at the ripe
old age of 70. I should just say I’m a nomad, even though it’s been a while
since we moved. I used to say, “Nowhere”. People would back up when I said that,
even though it was true. Then I’d start naming all the cities and places I’d
lived in. All before the age of 18. Twelve schools in thirteen years. What an
accomplishment.
Maybe if I say I’m a nomad, they will be satisfied.
What if I were to say I was a celestial wanderer?
I don’t think that would be appropriate. Where in the
universe have you traveled lately?
Well, you know what I mean.
No, I don’t. Perforce, explain.
Okay, everybody, this is my Spirit Guide, Seth. He’s been a
part of my life since 1993, when I first began to practice psychic channeling.
It was funny because, to me, it was new, yet as time went on, I realized I had
been doing this in one form or another for many years. It was when I began to
have the suspicion that we are all psychic from the beginning, but once you
start growing, you grow into a family, school, and friends, where all the
misconceptions you have: I hear voices. I have an imaginary friend. I can tell
you don’t like me. All fall by the wayside as some helpful adult tells you that
you are imagining everything and stop acting like a ninny.
In fact, one of the things I did to help me learn how to
channel was to read Betty Edwards book, “Drawing on the Right Side of Your
Brain”. I later attended a community art class based on her teaching. She
pointed out that kids, when they start drawing, typically have somebody older
than them who helpfully says, “Here, this is how you draw a house.” And,
forevermore, the artist in you is squashed. The helpful older person certainly
did not mean to squash your development; it’s just how they tend to do things.
I believe these days things might be different, but all it
takes is your cousin Ronny to laugh at your efforts and explain that the smoke
coming out of a chimney needs to be curly-cue-shaped and not big puffs of
clouds. There’s a squash.
Oh, wait. I’m sorry. I’ve just been yammering on and you had
something to say.
I believe, you’ve said enough for the both of us.
No, please, I’ll be quiet. You can talk about whatever you
want to talk about.
Okay, then. I would like to speak of horses.
Sure, that sounds interesting.
This harks back to your early beginnings, for you were
in love with horses. You read all sorts of horse stories and even were able to
take horseback riding lessons when you were a youngster.
Yes, I was in the 8th grade. It was at Fort
Leavenworth in Kansas. Captain Meyers farm. He was a big, fat man. I always
wondered that the horse he rode on must be strong. It was his riding stables
and we always had somebody else to show us how to ride.
You enjoyed yourself there?
Yes. My horse was the last one available. Nobody wanted to
ride him. His name was ShopTalk which was the name of the little newspaper that
came out on the army base. They all thought he was mean. I remember I was
warned not to feed him anything because he would bite me. I knew what they told
me wasn’t correct. I knew he was not mean. And, to me, he was not. We usually
had to ride at the end because he also kicked at other horses, though I never
saw him do that.
Once, there was a large palomino riding ahead of ShopTalk
and me. He kicked out at ShopTalk. All the riders and our teachers started yelling.
I circled ShopTalk around and got him away from the palomino. He stood quietly.
That’s when I realized we had something special. The teacher complimented me
and said I’d gotten us out of a jam quickly. I was protecting ShopTalk. He was
my friend, and he listened to me when I sang to him as we rode circles around
the fenced-in paddock.
That was the one and only time I rode a horse in my life. My
mother had owned two horses, Lightning and Thunder, when she was a girl. One
was black, and the other was white. In those days, she rode them around town.
They lived in Coronado, California, at the time. This would have been in the
1940s. Her family rented converted garages for the horses to live in. Somewhere
there are pictures of her riding each of these horses. She used to take them to
the beach and ride there.
Shoot, there I go again.
What’s that?
Well, I got to yammering and what do you know? You didn’t
get to say much.
Whether I speak a lot or a little is of no moment. The
idea, here, is for you to write. You’ve got stories to tell, imaginary and
otherwise.
Seth?
Yes?
Do you think I might dream of ShopTalk? I think he must have
died since then. It would have been 60 years ago. Or thereabouts.
I think it is likely that he has passed on. But you
never know, right?
Yes.
Whether ShopTalk is dead or still alive, you can
always visit with people in your dreams. You dream of your husband all the
time, right?
Yes, that’s true.
Just be open to the idea. Think of Shoptalk and of the
love you still hold for him. For as little time as you had together, every
moment still matters to you. During the day think of what you might do if he
came to you in a dream. Just pretend. Then, relax. You might be surprised. In
fact, if it happens, you can always come back to this piece to add a note.
Thanks.
And thanks for reading. I’ve listed a few places where I am
on the internet below. Check out the last link to see what resources I
recommend if you’d like to learn how to channel, too.
🌺 Pauline
Evanosky
🌺My Links:
Talking To Spirit — my
website since 2001
Pauline Evanosky on
Medium
Talking
To Spirit on Substack
My Table of Contents for Medium — Updated Monthly
My Table of Contents for Substack — Also Updated Monthly
Facebook for shorter
pieces
References I recommend on your path to more psychic
awareness from TalkingtoSpirit.com
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