Ready To Connect
Today is Christmas Eve and as I stare out at the torrents of rain coming down, my mind drifts back to this time last year. All I can think about is praying to the sewer line gods to please hold.
You see this time last year, I had moved out of my home due to Poopageddon surging through my home last November. It has been a “religious” year for me, and not in the biblical sense.
I’ve had floods, locusts (carpenter ants), lizards (although adorable, but not walking around in my home) and shifting walls. My neighbours and I often joke that one day we will wake up in the ocean; our homes will have gone from ocean view to just ocean.
With snow storms, freezing rain storms and those pesky “atmospheric rivers”, one wonders what lies ahead…
***
As I write this, I’m listening to beautiful music in the background by Ashana (the song is called “Hymn” - seems appropriate) with a single lit pillar candle, although this season is “merry and bright” to most people, it is not to me. I find Christmas depressing. I loved it as a kid, but now, it’s not my cup of tea.
Christmas lights are beautiful and the magic of Christmas is mystical, but that’s where it ends for me. A friend of mine recently said that he is a “scrooge” this time of year, until Christmas comes closer and then he enjoys it. I thought to myself that there could only be one “scrooge” and we were in for a “scrooge off” contest. Seems I’ve won.
***
As I think back on this year, minus the frustrating and stressful times, there have been some pretty magical and unexplainable times.
I’ve been given some pretty incredible opportunities, met some amazing people along the way and lived to tell about it. I’ve discovered a place within myself that I didn’t know existed, healed other areas that needed healing and let go of others altogether.
People have come into my life, who sanctioned spaces that I thought I had lost, and to others, I’ve waved my magical middle finger because they no longer held value in my life… and I have not felt bad about it.
I’ve created stronger boundaries with those I love, with those I don’t love and with myself.
***
My home has transformed as well…from a shitty mess (literally) to almost everything new. I used to say my home was a “jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces” and now most of those pieces are up to code and fire regulated. It took 366+ days to get my home to where it is now, with a few more minor adjustments to go.
My home feels less haunted and more happy. Amazing what new flooring can do to a space. Having said that, there have been a couple of mystifying occurrences….once a Medium, always a Medium.
***
In June of this year, I had to move out for the month as my new engineered oak hardwood flooring was to be installed. Movers packed up my entire home, put everything into storage and I, along with my cat and dog (almost wrote “god”) moved into a Vrbo vacation rental.
I found a cute place about 10 minutes away from my home. The owner of the suite called it a “cave”, which I would agree with, as it was about 300-400 square feet…a quarter of the size of my home.
Vrbo’s slogan is “We have a place for everyone” which is very true in this instance. The house where the “cave” (or grandmother suite) was situated had seven people living in it….six, plus me. Luckily most of us had our own entryways.
I was thankful to find it, with such short notice. You see, Victoria is a vacation destination and what many people don’t realise is that we have cruise ships that dock in the summertime, so vacancy is hard to come by, once the sun comes out and warms our souls.
***
What I thought was going to be a “staycation” was anything but. I wanted to rest and heal after going through the trauma of Poopageddon, the tradespeople coming and going through my torn up home, quarrels with family, friends and people standing on my last nerve. Alas, that was not the case…
The first few nights were good. It is challenging to go from routine to living out of suitcases, bags and boxes, with two beautiful sentient beings in tow. They were just as disorientated as I was, trying to make the best of the situation. Really, all I wanted to do was cry, but when you are a one-woman band, sometimes you have to dig deep to pull that warrior woman ahead of you.
***
When I finally began to let my guard down…the singing started. I should mention that it was not I who was singing…but the owner of the house….at 4 am, I might add.
Some nights I wouldn’t get to sleep until 1 am, because the guy above me was either rearranging furniture or dragging a dead body all over the floor. Other nights cupboards were constantly being opened and closed and I prayed it was a poltergeist versus someone looking for something lost.
I’d fall asleep at 1 am, praying for death (I shall not say if it was for mine or for theirs) only to be jolted out of bed at 5 am, when the singing started. My last nerve was beyond frayed, but the singing would last all night and all day.
***
When I had clients, I had to tell the owner to stop singing for the time being. Truth be told, I’d tell her I had clients when I didn’t because to me, her singing was like nails down a chalkboard. Don’t get me wrong, she was a lovely lady, only her voice made me spontaneously combust.
Spontaneous combustion scared me as a child. Scary to think that your body could just suddenly burst into flames, but after hearing this lady sing, I kind of welcomed it…
Let’s put it this way, I’d rather chew on a piece of tinfoil than listen to the shrill…especially at 4 or 5 am. It was not a wake up call that I ever asked for.
***
The private back area was not private at all. The owner would water her plants, while singing and there was an infrared sauna, which I had access to. On occasion, the owner would use the sauna, to….sing.
To drown out the shrill, I’d play loud music on my Bose speaker, turn up the volume of the television and drop many loud F bombs along the way. There was a “time guideline curfew” as to when you could use the washing machine (because it was so noisy) or when you had to be quiet. I figured the household wasn’t following that, so why would I.
I sent many silent (and not so silent) F bomb prayers to the heavens above, asking for her to lose her voice, to go out or to simply be quiet. Thankfully the management company who looked after the suite stocked the fridge with beer and wine, something that I usually don’t consume, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
***
One night, the household was silent, so I decided to watch a movie. I can’t say I really “watched” it, more like I was “half watching” it. I can’t really say that either, more like it was background noise, and I was barely listening because I was doing something else.
I recall the movie was called “Fatima” and is a true story.
On the 13th of May, 1917 three young Portuguese shepherds were visited by the Virgin Mary who entrusted the children with three secrets.
Two secrets were revealed in 1941 and the third in 1943. The children claim to have been visited by the Virgin Mary six times between May and October 1917.
***
I thought this to be fascinating (this section of the movie that caught my attention) and for no reason whatsoever, I voiced outloud how I would love to connect with the Virgin Mary and if she wanted to come for a visit, she was more than welcome to.
You know when words fall out of your mouth and you have no reason as to why? It was like that. Those words just flowed from my mouth, like water cascading down a waterfall.
You won’t believe what happened…
It’s night time, I’m sitting alone in the “cave” watching tv, and a voice appears. It said “Ready to connect”.
I jolted upright, looked around and again heard: “Ready to connect”. I recognized that voice…it was coming from my Bose speaker. It was the female voice that comes on when you’re pairing a device to the speaker.
I walked into the kitchen where the speaker was sitting and noticed that it had turned itself on. The blue light was on, “looking” to pair itself to something. I might add, this speaker is a one way speaker. You can’t program it, you can’t speak through it. It’s not like a creepy Alexa or a Siri that speaks back.
You can’t have a conversation with it…well, you can, but it’ll be you who is doing the talking without a response in sight. You can call it any name in the book and the Bose speaker doesn’t respond.
I turned the speaker off and said: “Ummm thanks, let’s connect…”
***
Next time you’re watching Fatima on Netflix and the Virgin Mary appears, ask her to connect with you and see what happens.
You might just get a miracle or two…
