Panic Attack! by Julianna Rowe

Panic Attack!  

I had a busy day, errands, car wash, drove an extra twenty miles to get less expensive kitty litter at the Farm store. Humm.  Got home, unloaded all and put away.  Came into my office to check on emails and other computer related issues.  I sat down at my desk where the window to the outer world is two feet from my face. That being said it would mean if there were any activity in or around said window I would not be able to ignore it. There was definitely activity!

Before I share what I was watching let me tell you why my eyes shed a few crocodile tears as I viewed the anxiety ridden scene before me.  

I am a nurturer/caretaker by birth.  I dabble in numerology and the energies of my name and date of birth told me what I have proven to be true all my life, that I am a caretaker.   I save everyone and everything in my sight and within my power to do so.  Sometimes to my own detriment.  Been trying to learn I am more important than other peoples problems, but so far it hasn't worked.  I recall in grade school always taking up for the kid getting bullied.  I saved rescue animals, dying plants, I was a foster parent, a Hospice volunteer, oh and I rescued MEN too!  But none of those were freaking out in front of me at the window.  Nope...this time it was no different than all the other times yet the same.  I was about to try to save something that could hurt me AS USUAL. And once again I dove right in but not before some real serious tears being shed.  Why?

You see I have lived with anxiety at different levels off and on all my life.  It can be very debilitating. So I understood what Mr. Wasp was feeling.  Sounds crazy I know, but truth. 

 I was viewing a very large WASP  who had gotten "himself" stuck between the screen and the inside window pane.  He wasn't doing the standard walking slowing around the edges searching for an exit. Oh No! This WASP was FRANTIC! He was anxiety ridden as he flew desperately from the top to the bottom, nudging corners and edges wildly in fast motion.  I could honestly feel his fear and his feeling of being trapped forever and dying.  This WASP was smarter than the average WASP.  As I watched him I kept voicing I was going to help him and to hang on.  I hadn't yet figured out how I was going to do this good deed.

Saying that meant I had to open the window a smidge which meant this very upset large WASP could get into my home and harm me just like some of my other rescues had done.  Those tears were not only from feeling the WASP 's frantic terror but my own past shit shows.  

Never the less..... I had to save him from his impending death considering it was HOT and the sun was bearing down on him fast on his self made prison. It reminded me of a dog stuck in a hot car.  

I proceeded to carefully open the window just enough to stick my little blue twelve inch ruler under the rim while quickly punching out the corner of the screen while Mr. Big WASP was up at the top freaking the H out.  Told you he was a smart one.  He instantly knew there was an opening and he shot straight down and OUT the little escape hatch I offered.  Now I can only hope there is WASP KARMA for me next time one lands on me.  The WASP community owes me.  And I owe the landlord a new screen.    I always have to pay out somehow when I help others.  It's okay, WASP is free, didn't get baked and die today.  One Lucky fellow.

Because He Moved Away:

 

                                 I wrote this some time ago.  Playing catch up with my blog posts.        

                                Could I Have This Dance?  See YouTube Ann Murray to the right.

 

I beat my desk.

I scream at the other drivers.

I kick the cat? Only in my mind.

I slam the door.

I cry for dropping a jar.

Why?

I don’t know. 

Because I can.

Because I am alone.

Why?

Because he moved away.

But I still have my cat!

 

Only ONE No Good Bad Day! By Julianna Rowe

 

As I pondered the reflection of myself in the mirror I saw a stranger in my own eyes.  I wanted to run away, look away, not feel, not know, and not listen to whoever I or she was and whatever I or she was thinking while I continued anyway.  Looking deeper into her golden brown eyes.  Who was she?  Who is she?  It is supposed to be me, one person with one reflection, but it is two. The mouth seems to be mine but the eyes to her soul aren’t mine.  She doesn’t shine from within anymore. Gently her tears fall one by one as her soul floods sadly and slowly from within. 

Whose eyes are those if not mine? A worn-out soul? A battered heart? Lines from painful years of misjudgment criss-cross “her” face.  Pain dulls the old sparkle she used to give to anyone within seeing distance. Now I see doubt.  Indecision.  Fear. There is no comfort in her eyes.  She tries to smile through a spirit that has given in; to letting life make her decisions. She is more than the reflection. She is trying to tell me we need to come together to bring back the old vivacity. That she cannot do it alone. She feels unequipped. Unbalanced.  Her neck is tight. Her brain is privately frozen. If she died today it would not be a finished work of art, rather a canvas with splashes of bright yellow happiness under black splatters of ink suppressing much of the shining light beneath.  Damn those that take away, or did they? Is she rather a product of a scabillion cells from a cotillion ancestors who lay dormant in the vast Universe waiting for one human to evolve past all theirs and her bad cells on her own?  Or is she simply at an impasse of her own making? Trapped in a room with no locked door, yet a strong magnetic translucent veil resembling a thick liquid and waving like a flag emanating freedom hindering any escape from the self-made prison…. in lockdown. 

 Just a momentary glitz.

Tomorrow it will all be better, it always is.  

America, Someone's Nightmare?

 

                                   America, Someone's Nightmare?     By Julianna Rowe

 

I held my sister as she died in my arms.  Drive by shooting. Alesha stared at me with her deep brown dying eyes as life drained from her body.  I felt her bloodied flesh filled with terror turn to peace as her life stopped and her spirit ascended to a new world.  Mama wanted to take her from me and hold her but she didn't. She knew Alesha was right where she belonged in my arms.  Papa wanted to run into the streets and kill all the gang members that had hurt so many in our little town and now had murdered his sweet daughter Alesha.

The following day mama and papa decided it was time to flee our home country.  It had become unsafe to leave our house for food, work, and or any reason at all.  We were starving mentally and physically due to the fear instilled by the gangs.  Papa had saved some money hidden behind one of the bricks that held our lives safe from the elements but not safe from the thieves that had taken over our country.  Papa knew it was time to run for our lives.

We buried our sweet sister and daughter in the dirt that surrounded the home we had always felt secure in until recently.  Papa wrapped her in the blanket mama had made for her when she was an infant.  I begged papa to cover her face with it because I could barely stand to see the brown sand and dirt cover and fill her beautiful brown eyes.  For months my mind had the reoccurring thought of my sweet sister and best friend rotting under the dirt covered with bugs and worms.  It was nearly more than I could bare but I had no one to confide in.  There was no way I could tell mama or papa what my mind’s eye was seeing. As surely as their minds eye was seeing the same thing but my small time on earth didn’t allow me to realize that.  I had to deal with losing my best and only friend alone.

We had no choice but to leave Alesha behind. All I could think of was her under the ground and alone as we left the only home, we had ever known fleeing our once beloved country that had now been overrun with bandits, thieves, and murderers. In the dead of night, we moved as quickly as possible praying baby Huey wouldn't wake the evil men before we got far enough away to feel safe.

I and my infant brother followed my parents for over one thousand miles to find a better life.  Looking back on it now I can't imagine how we made it.  We took the clothes on our backs, each a backpack with water, some food, diapers, toothbrushes, soap, one change of underwear and only a blanket for myself and baby Huey.  No coats as the weather we were traveling in was very warm.  Oh, and the money papa had saved behind the brick wall was taking us to a new and safe life, in America.

The walking was treacherous.  By the time we had traveled halfway across dirt, rocks, and clay, our shoes had lost most of their soles just as we were losing our life souls as well. The walk was long, hard, and hot and the only thing that kept us going was hope and fear of not being murdered by the merciless gangs back home.  The land of freedom was ahead....no one shooting, robbing, and killing us in our own homes.  We had escaped Hell.  Not that the thousand-mile walk wasn't a Hell of its own but again faith kept us going toward the land of the free.

I was a young boy who was having to grow up fast in a cruel, dangerous, frightening, world.  I was surrounded by other children and grownups all of us physically filthy on a journey to somewhere better than where our lives had been.  Our only comparison was from what we knew before the raids on our homes began. 

Yet the death of my sister haunted me every step of my own personal small adult journey. I talked to Alesha what seemed like every minute of every step we took.  I worried about her alone in the dirt with the bugs.  Maybe they would comfort her?  All I knew was my bad scary life was over as I knew it but this wasn't much better even though my papa told me we were walking toward a new world of all good things.  A place where no one would hurt us anymore.  America.

Or, so we thought.

Airport to Other Dimentions by Julianna Rowe

 

AIRPORT to OTHER DIMENTIONS …. By Julianna Rowe  

                 I am usually in full control of my whereabouts as well as my surroundings at all times. My mind seemed intact as far as I could tell, yet something was certainly amiss.

I was on a small girl’s Schwinn bicycle in the middle of a dark pasture of thick four-inch weeds and grass.   Being of adult stature it was genuinely hard pumping the pedals of that little green bike yet for some strange reason I continued without questioning.  I kept looking behind for my dog Allie but all I could make out was my cat and an instinctive mentality to continue forward to nowhere.    

It was then out of the dark graphite emptiness I saw the two-aluminum saucer like objects each sheltering one bright light about ten feet apart. They appeared similar to on old farm yard lamp or what baby chicks were kept under for warmth at the fair.  Then without a sound I witnessed from some alien world a plane that resembled a small version of a B-52 Bomber using the same aluminum sheltered lights as they guided it to land on the makeshift runway.  I leaped off what seemed to be my childhood bike and began running alongside it through the dense weeds and grass.  It’s luminous landing was commanding my total attention. And then it vanished from sight. I searched the field and barely found it a longer distance away in a misty area.  It was as though it were still there in another dimension I couldn’t cross into. 

                Right ahead of me was an old familiar farmhouse.  My Father was standing outside the back entry facing the landing field.  He acted as though he had also seen something passing through and now still hovering. Or was it he knew? Then he turned toward me and with soulless eyes motioned for me to come.

The woman of the house was at the kitchen table for only moments until she and the table simply faded away disappearing into the night.   She never returned from the darkness like the old man, the cat, and the middle-aged man did.  I don’t think she wanted to return to fix anything.  The others had a need to return or had they never left?

                I entered the once familiar kitchen.  A middle-aged man stood at the sink starring.  Where the beautiful oak kitchen table with its collection of roosters that caressed its center and the surrounding wall shelves used to be was now brown piles on the floor of leftover negative mental debris. There were no table or chairs.  Lying under where each person sat over the hundred years of its existence was unforgiveness, anger, hate, malice, envy, jealousy and more that made up a toxic soup of different sizes and shapes of unfinished brown and gray dirt and dust. Bad energy.

                The man at the sink was trying to wash away the pain from his past existence there. He was hovering and I felt an emotion for him as I saw disappointment etched on his face and his bosom so full of buried emotions I wondered if he might burst.  He did not see me because he was not yet passed on.  The old man saw me and the cat riddled with fear entered the room saw me.  Poor thing was so full of fear and anxiety it fell on its back pawing at the air as though the air was going to execute her.  She appeared to be a pet of mine from the past.  I wondered why she was there.  What needed to be fixed for that old cat and what could I do? What could I do for any of them?  Why was I there? Why did I have to pump that little old bicycle so vigorously across a field of thick weeds to get to that old farmhouse full of bad memories and energies? Was I to take in or let out? Was it too late?

        And then I saw the two alien runway lights re-appear from the darkness and I heard the engines as the pilotless plane opened its throttles and “She” was gone.  My Mother was gone with unfinished business left in dark piles under the once vibrant center of the house, the kitchen table.  My Dad stood at the back stoop and watched her disappear as his once soulless eyes filled with tears, his shoulders slumped, his life with her now truly empty of all.  They had vowed till death do them part and they had honored that. But nothing more. He had waited for her and he could have gone with her but she rejected him again. This time she rejected his spirit.  I wonder where she is.  She always wanted more than him or farm life. Maybe next week she will return to late, like the others in an attempt to fix the piles of incomplete emotions left in the form of tangible earthly energy. Dirty fragments left for the next generation.

We influence others in this life. Evolve or beware of the AIRPORT to OTHER DIMENTIONS. 

Old Farmhouse Photograph by Nicodemo Quaglia

The Conversion Zone by Julianna Rowe

 

“The Conversion Zone”    by Julianna Rowe 

Rimrock Road 8:23 am CST April 23^rd, 1923   

 I stood watching the children play, the boys racing their tall tricycles and the girls dragging cloth dolls on the ground with one hand while blowing harshly on their new bird whistles with the other. I know not how I knew them or why I was there, I just was.   The children began gathering around me staring.  So, I stared back.  Children don’t get embarrassed when people don’t respond to them immediately like adults do.  But I held my ground for as long as adulthood allowed and then I exclaimed.

“What?”

They continued to stare in silence.  I was no longer embarrassed rather I was getting scared when I noticed each child had white hair and steel blue eyes that were piercing through to my soul.  Then over to the left of the small group of the children of the damned stood a man clearly surrounded in a grey mist, with dark hair and dark eyes.  He seemed to be their master. 

Where was I? Who was I? And most of all, who was the group of weird people all pointing in unison to the vast acres of land across the street.

That was when a voice spoke up saying, “That is the half a million-dollar land you lost to your sister.”

I turned so slowly it was like a scene from a slow-motion movie reel. I needed to see the losses they were all pointing out to me but when I turned all I saw were acres of dead earth possessed by more of those same children of the damned and their leader.  I spiritually connected with the money I and my family had lost to those thieves. Yet the land belonged to the dark man and his children all possessed by past and future generations who lurked upon the cold deceased estate.

One of the children caught my attention when I couldn’t help but notice her eyes changed like that of a chameleon in danger.  Her white hair turned yellow blonde and she came alive like the sun and her steely scary eyes went golden brown and shown beauty like the autumn leaves. She looked like a child version of me.  As she left the others and walked toward me, she reached for my hand and I obliged as I took hers into mine.   I knew her but I didn’t know how I knew her.  She led me away from those withering souls through a misty yellow porthole to a quiet neighborhood where the sun was bright and a feeling of freedom lifted me from the dark evil place we had left behind.  At least I hoped we had.  She then safeguarded me to a truck sitting by itself on an empty street and then she disappeared in a blink but where she had stood was left a beautiful glow of soft rainbow colors.  I quickly moved in an attempt to retrieve her as though I had lost part of me and had to get it back.  When I reached for the space where she had disappeared, all the gentle colors of who she was enveloped me, offering a peace like I had never known. Was she me in a past life? Was she an Angel warning me?  Or helping me?  I think she was me in 1923. She had come through the porthole from the fifth dimension to aid me in the loss of my family inheritance and to assist me toward a better future. 

I had been told by a spirit, before this encounter, there are twelve dimensions in all that surround our Universe. Each of the twelve are comprised of different phases of learning. Sort of like a school where you escalate according to how far you evolved during your living years.  One being the most evolved and twelve being pre-kindergarten.  I knew from the spirit man who visited me that when you pass on you carry a light.  Maybe to light your way was a guess on my part.  He told me some have brighter lights than others but they all ascend magnetically to whichever dimension they belong to continue their journey. It’s all about energy and physics. But what did all this have to do with me and the very large truck I was heading toward sitting on the very empty street?

The truck was like an army transport vehicle.  I walked around it peering at the dark green almost black color with its huge back doors latched using a long heavy metal bar.  What was inside the dreary dark machine appeared to be a moving prison. 

I was in a trans of wonder when from behind me came a man who opened the barred rear door and pushed me inside slamming it shut.  I could feel the air sucked out of me as I felt the heavy clank as the bar came down locking me inside with no escape.  Where was she?  Where was my angel, or what I thought might be the other part of me?  I needed help. I could see no escape from this horror. 

First it was the dark pied piper man and his little fleet of children of the damned with their vast fields showing me all my losses, to the little girl from somewhere who led me to the black Auschwitz on wheels!  Now I was afraid.  Fear gripped every cell in my body when abruptly a different compartment door opened and several foreign men appeared in chains.  I did not belong there and I knew it.  Why was I with these people? And then the truck began moving and a window on each side of the vehicle mechanically slid away opening the heavy metal plates to expose heavy glass windows.  I thought at the least now we could see where we were being taken.  No one spoke but me.  No one answered me, they just stared ahead, sometimes out the window, never looking at me. 

Once again, I thought they may be dead.  Why were all those dead people surrounding me? Why all this negative light around me?  I had no choice but to sit and look out the window trying to decipher what would be next. I wanted to scream with terror because I hated being locked up especially in a small area knowing I could never escape the iron walls of what had become my personal prison.  Why?  Suddenly I lost who I was or where I came from. I had lost my identity and become nothing more than those empty men who couldn’t speak for themselves, who were lost, maybe dead? Yet alive.  Like me, yes, they were like me.  I had given up after losing my inheritance and struggling to maintain life surrounded by people with no purpose, no drive, no reason to live. 

Then out the window in the midst of my trance while discovering the why’s of my situation I see the ocean ahead.  It was coming closer and closer as was my terror.  I had always had a fear of going into the water in a locked vehicle and there it was coming to fruition I feared.  The truck sped up and I knew this was the end.  I didn’t have time to think on whether my light would be bright or dim or what dimension I would end up in or how much I would suffer or how fast the water would come in.  Would I float as high as I could get to the ceiling begging for one more breath of air struggling just as I had before this day working, toiling to make ends meet, striving for one more breath to keep living?  Not seeing there was a way out but I didn’t take it.  Afraid to take it. 

And then we were airborne!  We flew off the edge of a cliff and were descending like a rock toward the ocean floor.   I was dizzy from agonizing paralyzing fear.  The men didn’t move because they had given up on life but I hadn’t.  That is when she appeared again pointing to the window.  The little me from 1923 telling me there was a way out and it wasn’t as hard as I had thought. 

I turned, pushed on the window pane as though time had stood still and gravity was not in force.  The window popped out more easily than it should have been possible to do. (That is usually how it is but we can’t always see it.)  Centrifugal force pulled me out in a nano second of time!  I was free flying toward the water…….

I woke up from that dream screaming and crying.  Then laughing out loud at the wonderment of the Universe to give me a dream so vivid it relayed to me what was happening in my own life and how to rectify it.   There is always HOPE and HELP from the Universe to get us through our down times and back to the sunshine and smiles.

Thank you to my own spirit and that of the others who came to my earthly rescue through that amazing dream.  It was given to me in the form of a spiritual movie.  Sort of like there are two different ways to learn mathematics.  Earth and Spirit. I was told I need to balance them more.  Not forget the Spirit because I can’t see my answer in the flesh.   And to always look beyond for your answers.  I got my humor and my direction back!

Chose Your Veil:

 

Choose Your Veil:

There is a beautiful white flowing veil between my head and my heart.

There is a thick blood red curse flowing there also;

The veils fluctuate between my senses and my desires,

The veils sway pretending passion between my legs and my eyes of reality.

The veils smuggle my laughter into tears, between jokes and ridicule.

The veils blindside me between my future and my now.

The veils waver between lonely and unlonely.

The veils vibrate between being abused and protected.

They “lie” between being abandoned and cherished (supported).

The veils ambush me between my logic and reason.

The veils slither like Satan between my life or my death.

Choose your veil.