When I was pre-school age, I had my first mystical experience. My sister Kim and I shared a bedroom in a huge Victorian house on Plum St. in Santa Cruz. It wasn't a place we lived in for long, but for a couple of years we did move around alot, apartments I mostly remember, one in Mtn. View even, where my innocence was stolen at a tragically tender age. I remember the sash tearing on my red velvet and chiffon dress with the embroidered cherries on the bodice. I LOVED that dress. I identified with that dress and when it was no longer whole, I began to forget a lot. Memory is such an illusive friend.
So, in the Victorian house one night, I woke up to a house with no walls. I could see through the entire first floor, into each room, and they all seem empty and dark. I have been trying to make sense of this apparition for over 40 years. Today, I got it. I was given the ability to see what isn't there, the sight to see beyond the walls that people build up around themselves. I see through to the heart of people, that's what the vision has been teaching me all these years. And that's probably why I tend to scare folks with my intensity. I don't mean to, it's simply a result of my type of sight. Kind of like a blood type: Open Sight.
The really strange thing was that the next morning, when I woke? The chest of drawers that stood between Kim and my bed was turned so that the back was facing my bed, the front facing hers, thus obscuring my view of her. And that is probably a pretty decent metaphor for the journey Kim and I have been on. I've never understood her and have only just begun to see through to her heart, which, like mine, was broken at a very early age when our father left us. I'm grateful for the opportunity to reconnect with and share love with my only sister.
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