My partner, I and my 10 week old son have just moved to a new apartment. A great place, a turn-of-the century home with stores below and apartments above, we live on the third floor. Everything in the apartment was new when we moved in, from the paint job to the appliances. The only problem was the front door, which was not framed correctly. You can see light from outside all around the edges of the door when it is closed and the door won’t stay shut, nor will it lock without lifting the entire door for the deadbolt to fit into the frame.
So we’ve waited for weeks for it to be fixed, but finally, today they came to fix it. As I answered the door, still mentally in PA and with my son in my arms, thinking about my response and future actions, the workmen stood there. I said hello and the lead workman, Luc, looked at the door, bent to check out the frame and immediately collapsed.
I asked if he was ok, his companion, speaking in French, did the same, a small smile on his face as if, perhaps, his friend was joking around. But it was no joke. Immediately Luc began harsh, grunting and laborious breathing, his body began shaking violently, he was in the midst of what looked to be an epileptic seizure. He was face down, his head wedged into the space between the door and the frame. I immediately grabbed his shoulders and motioned to his friend – who spoke no English – to grab his legs and we turned him over.
I ran quickly upstairs to wake up my partner and hand her the boy, but she had heard the door and was already stirring. Hearing my voice below become strident, she knew something was wrong. She took the boy from me and I told her to call an ambulance and ran back downstairs. The other guy was standing there, tentatively, watching his friend, his voice high as I assume, he kept asking Luc in French if he was ok. But Luc’s eyes were rolled up in his head and he was breathing like a freight train, spittle blowing all over his face and jacket, his body trembling uncontrollably. I called upstairs for a blanket and my partner brought it. Luc’s friend ran downstairs then, calling something to me that I did not understand.
I sat with Luc, one hand over his heart, the other behind his head, holding him up, staring into his eyes, telling him, “relax, you’re going to be ok, you’re going to be ok”, and consciously sent him energy from my core through my hands into his body. I kept on in this manner as Luc’s friend returned, this time with two younger guys in tow whom I recognized as being co-workers, as they were all working on another shop in the back of the building. One of them told me that he was Luc’s nephew and he knelt beside us and spoke to his uncle in French, holding his hand and reassuring him. I asked him if his uncle was epileptic and he said no, this is the first time this has ever happened.
My partner brought down blankets and knelt with me, holding his head, also sending him energy, engaging in the work of her soul. We both continued to do so, eyes closed, her silent, me speaking softly, to his soul, as he trembled and moaned on the ground between us all.
As his tremors began to subside and his eyes flickered, the first responders arrived on the scene. At that time, his tremors had almost stopped. I’d only met him once previously, when he had first come to see the door. He’d measured it, told me they’d have to order a new door and that his name was Luc. He seemed to me a good guy. Now, as he was returning to himself, he seemed a bit sheepish as his awareness returned and he saw his nephew, two co-workers, me and my partner and three first responders encircled around him with concerned expressions on our faces.
He tried to stand up but couldn’t and he was helped to a couch, where he sat and answered a few questions. I moved back then, wearing only a pair of sweats and my winter coat which my partner had brought out to me at some point as I knelt there with only the sweats on in 0 degree Celsius weather, helping a near-stranger to the best of my ability. I looked out over the village as they spoke to him and others took charge, thinking about this moment. Why this had happened at this particular moment and what it meant in the larger scheme of things. I felt my heart wide open, bare in the face of mortality, and tears threatened as the fragility of life and the immediacy of the Now was impressed upon me yet again.
We are not promised tomorrow. We are not promised the next minute. Even in the midst of constant change, as life flows and we flow along with it, there are moments when you have to be forced into a recognition that we are the sum not only of our environment but out choices and those deeper streams of genetic and biological truth that we are not necessarily cognizant of. The confluence of time and space conspires to create moments of awareness, flickers of a candle’s flame against the dark resonance of the unknown, each moment a step into that darkness, taken with the faith of innocence that it will land upon something solid and that we are assured of a safe passage into the future. Nothing could be further from the truth.
The choices we make pre-life are mysteries to us now. Luc did not know when he knocked on my door that a life-changing event was about to occur. I did not know when I answered the door that a perception-changing event was about to occur.
Each of us influences each other as we interact, even if we are only within the context of an internet community. Those of us who look upon our interactions here without thinking about the deeper moral and spiritual aspects of those interactions are missing the lion’s share of the meaning that is inherent within each successive moment. Those of us who act without thinking about that importance, those of us who speak from pride, from a deeper, ingrained hubris,must look further for meaning than the rules of an old society, the understandings of an outdated paradigm.
We are each responsible for every single thought, every single word we utter, every single intention that we manifest, whether spoken or written, and will stand to account for it at a time not of our conscious choosing but at the choosing of our Over-soul. Coming to grips with that reality in the face of a cold gust of mortality can be a bracing thing if you’re not expecting it.
Our reminders are synchronicitous whether we realize it or not, each event holding meaning, following from some prior causation originating materially from immateriality. We are given precious glimpses into this Truth at key moments. These are moments that are designed to remind us of who we are and why we are here.
These are moments when life has a way of reminding us of what is important.