My Memories of Drowning, P.S. I'm Allergic to Cat's Cont'd.
It was but a dream one I woke from time and again struggling for air. My lungs filled with water that I expelled as I grasped hands old and wrinkled with age and looked into beautiful dark brown eyes, the eyes of my savior. He happened by as mischief one day did the unthinkable, and pushed me from a bridge into the dark cold abyss. I felt myself falling then nothingness and all was black. I recall whispered words from a Sister to a Cousin. I thought I dreamt it all, the words so vivid upon my memories as a Child, and followed me like creepy dead fingers throughout the Years, threatening to choke me until I was no more.
Clear as Day I heard the words. "I bet you can't push some little one off this bridge". Again and again, they echoed as I walked along gentle rolling shores wondering at the mysteries that lay beneath the clear blue pool. I tremble at the thought and allowed only my feet to dangle for a minute. I dared not enter to be swallowed by the secrets that the sweet calming waves held. As Years went by and memories faded and time alone erased those Childhood memories I still pondered at the fear which gripped me tightly in invisible clutches and then as in Years past the voices again inside my head, and I wondered could it be a memory made up to stem the fear that within me of the deep blue ocean the unknown? As I pondered these I knew it was not a dream, I can recall the voices clearly so sure, so strong, reverberating in my head. My Sisters voice and a Cousin and me a Child of two.
Throughout Life, my ventures led and I followed and Years again added to my grief and inner sorrow. I cannot bear the thought of water, engulfing, threatening to tie me to it's blackened depths. I fathom not the reason until my memories were confirmed by My Father and my Cousin Sonny when I visited my Island Home for the last time, prior to my Father having back surgery. I had it seemed to the depth of blackness been hurled by a Sister's voice and a Cousins heartless undertaking. As my Cousin recanted prior to his death, he was not supposed to be traveling that road on that particular Day, he was working, however, for reasons unknown to him he left the farm and his walk took him in that direction that he normally wouldn't travel as his home was in the opposite direction. He happened along just as I was pushed off the bridge. Hands weathered by age now had at my birth held me first, comforted once again as he dragged me from the depths of the deep rocky, blackness. He, with the dark brown eyes, hands now wrinkled with age was and always will be my savior.
My Uncle Sunny as he was fondly called, was the first one to hold me, he jokingly laughed that I was bald at birth and stayed that way pretty much until I was three Years old. I wore a bonnet for most of those Years. He commented on the fact that most of the Children in our Family who started off bald headed ended up having long hair later in Life. My Cousins hands weathered by age had, at my birth held me first, and comforted once again as he dragged me from the depths of the deep rocky, blackness, he, with the dark brown eyes, was and always will be my savior.
As I listened to his story of unconditional love, we laughed a great deal, we walked the path from my Fathers house to Aunt Rose's house on that Sunday Morning. We stopped for a long while at the house of the Woman who regaled me with stories of the Woman she always saw walking behind us my Sister and me on our way from that little Schoolhouse on top of the Hill. As she described the Woman, giving me details the sighting of my Great grandmother gripped her so much so that it stayed within her memories even 40 plus Years later. As I played with her Grandbaby, who crawled into my lap and cried when I left, I listened to her concern and smiled a knowing smile.
To my Cousin: Sonny Dhill or Dhyll as some have kept the original spelling. My Family, my savior. Though he is no longer of this Earth I know he continues to watch over me with eyes of brown and a loving heart and hands no longer wrinkled by age. I have to believe my Life has a purpose, that we are guided by intuition.
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Defining An Empath
P.S. I'm Allergic to Cat's
An Empath, is simply an individual who has empathy for another human being. A deep feeling of being sorry for or feeling someones hurt. In other words it's the abbreviation form for someone who is Empathetic.
There are some who espouse the beliefs that communicating with or having a predilection for intuition is tantamount to being possessed, or Mentally incapable the Legal Ramifications of Declaring someone Mentally unstable that perhaps talks to or professes to talking to the Dead, well don't get me started on Religion again. It is a fact that Religious People believe that if they pray to a Dead Man they will go to heaven.
In that respect if talking to the dead means that someone is crazy then it stands to reason we are all crazy by the defining terms stated above.
Death is celebrated in many cultures, does this then mean Religion would have us deprive modern Day witches, the Taro card readers spiritual guides as Crazy making them incapable of providing for themselves and Family?
I suggest you start with New Orleans. Plenty of crazy People residing there. You will find them celebrating Mardi gras, or maybe San Antonio, Houston and California the Hispanic culture celebrates Dia de los muertos. Day of the Dead.
Astronomers, Farmers, Doctors, no you are not immune to the stereotype and Labeling by virtue of profession.