Tuesday, Self Existing 10 - Blue Self-Existing Hand

I define in order to know,
Measuring healing.
I seal the store of accomplishment
With the self existing tone of form.
I am guided by the power of abundance.
I am a galactic activation portal...enter me.

One of my old stories.

As a mature looking and acting sixteen year old runaway named Niki (after a favorite heroic dog character in a book) I volunteered at a drop in centre near McGill University in the city of Montreal. One afternoon while on duty with a more experienced young man, a slightly older than us man came in, freaking out on acid. He was threatening violence, very obviously having a bad trip.

When the young man started to talk the “client” down, his obvious fear of the threat of violence served to escalate the violence. I started talking to the fellow, refusing to be frightened by the threats. He threatened more, I ignored his threats. When he asked me why I ignored his threats, why I wasn’t afraid of him I told him I knew he didn’t really want to hurt me. He wanted to know how I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. I told him I didn’t know how I knew, I just knew.

He got seriously in my face in an effort to prove me wrong and frighten me. I didn’t budge. I asked why he was so angry. He wanted to know how come I knew he was angry. I stated the obvious…he was acting very angry.

Through the course of the afternoon the focus of the acid trip went from violence to caring, from freaking out, to understanding and compassion. The appropriate words for the situation came to me, I simply got out of the way. He spoke for hours about a violent childhood, I told him about mine. When the peak of the acid trip had finally run it’s course, the bad acid tripper left the drop in centre in control of himself. I would not have even remembered the incident except for the fact that this person remembered me and wanted to thank me.

Several months later, I was in bed in my room with a fever when the acid trip man found me. He said he’d been looking for me for quite some time. He had money for me, his way of thanking me for walking him through the acid trip. He said the money came from a store that he’d robbed. There was almost two hundred dollars, a lot of money for a girl with none. The acid trip man now robber finally realized how sick I was and put me in a cab destined for the hospital.

Time after remarkable time, paranormal events worked themselves into everyday reality. Other times, there was nothing more mundane than everyday reality.