The Seventh Direction

PART ONE: The Flow. Episode 9

"Doc, I can't really speak with much authority on the whereabouts of young Wyllen, but in confidence I can say a little bit about another—actually, a very 'old girlfriend' of his who too has disappeared. Remember the job I had before I came here?" Doc nodded his head, muttered uh-hu and shrugged his shoulders all at once. "Well, her disappearance—both disappearances, really, his and hers together, makes for a very long story. Of Wyl's story, though, I know very little, only that we connected on another 'plane' that left me blind to this room and just barely conscious I was still here! Of course, there's what you told me before about his accident. But that's it. All I can really say for sure at this time is that when I returned to . . . to this dimension, Wyl was gone." I raised a brow. "Wyllen stayed on that plane I was only barely able to touch in on . . . and my heart understands this, Doc! God, I am still so much feeling the experience and its aftermath, and it tells me something of where Wyl is. But for a mental clarity of what happened here, I haven't much to give you. I don't really have much in that respect myself yet, sir. It's all intellectually nearly as new to me as it is to you." He was nodding.

I took a deep breath, still feeling the repercussions of all that had happened, and let go with a sigh: "My experience with Wyl was a huge emotional one, Doc—not like crying or hate or anything like that, but the same power and more intense when one discovers that this power, same as with the animals, is The Creator trying to inspire us."

"Whaaaaaaat?!" Doc's unmistakable mystification ended on a high, squeaky note. Doubtless, I had more waiting in the wings. The Flow, right? The One and only Flow?

I was really starting to get into this.

"Inspiration, Doc? The Natural Flow of Things? The way the animals hear The Creator? Directly? No strings attached?" Doc frowned. (He frowned?) Peculiar. His eyes closed.

More peculiar, though, was how the flow of things suddenly changed, how I felt suddenly altered, sort of short-circuited, because—well, because I'd slipped into a memory-bank and repeated (basically word for word!) something Alaya had said to me, a little while ago, to meet Doc's latest query, "Whaaaaat?!" But upon discovering this, I jumped right back into the feeling: into inspiration directly (the One and only Flow, right?), where there was no memory to speak of. Oh, maybe there was cellular memory here, or Deep Memory; but neither of these seemed readily available—not that I needed them, not on the conscious-level that I was now tapping into. Really, there wasn't any actual thinking going on here. Not as I knew it now. There was just me and The Flow. The One and only Flow. I continued, reaching further within. But . . . it didn't happen. (Crap.)

And I wondered: Do I really need to be doing this? Do I? Wouldn't it have been so much easier to just tell Doc that when I came back from break . . . oh, that I saw . . . well, a couple of aliens, a couple of greys clutching Wyllen by an arm each, just as they were passing their way out through the wall? (Much easier. Then I could go home.)

But I couldn't do it (crap), even if it did seem like a pretty good, little white-lie. A few years ago, maybe. But I'm changed. I'm changed! What I've experienced on my spiritual path has changed me; and no matter how many times I've tried, I can't go back to my old ways. (And, no, I'm not going to backslide and say it again. Toilet talk. Crap!). Those old ways, though, still occasionally pop up to confront me. Like—right now. Some shadowy memories, or doubts, or old misappropriations (or newer) must still be seeking the light. My light! I know only too well that I can't be my old self anymore. Nor would I want to be! And yet, when I first stopped being my old self, in those new and especially trying situations—funny, I thought I was done with it. Not! Just like The Voice had said (I do recall): something about still being an animal. Sometimes. On some level.