A Good Day (if harrowing)
My day started innocently enough. I awoke before six, saw that it would be clear and sunny, and immediately had a bad premonition that something awful was happening to my mom. Crying, for no reason other than knowing it was happening, and feeling helpless to stop it. I'd had another premonition that she would come to harm on Saturday night--bad enough that I called her to see if she was OK. She was. But sure enough, she took a bad fall on Sunday afternoon, characteristically didn't tell anyone about it, and by this morning she was hurting so badly that she asked my sister to take her to the ER where they live in Maryland.
I continue to be amazed at the mind's ability to connect to someone else's pain and suffering. I knew on Saturday that something bad was about to happen to Mom, and this morning I was sure something bad had happened, just as she was waking up and hurting, over 350 miles away. I opened my email, and one came in from my sister, saying Mom had fallen. After most of the day waiting to be seen in the packed ER, it was determined that nothing was broken, but she has a badly bruised tailbone, and a load of prescription pain medication. We're deeply thankful she dodged the bullet (mostly) this time. And I am doubly resolved to listen to my little voice even closer from now on.
On the day my father died in 1994, I was painting a big backyard feeder scene, the sun streaming in the window of my Ohio studio onto my paper. I suddenly emerged from my right-brain haze, thinking, "I need to call Mom and see how Dad is." I looked at the clock: 10:39 AM. I picked up the phone, dialed the number of his room at the nursing home in Virginia, and quickly changed my mind, hanging up just before it rang. "I'll give her a few minutes with Dad. He needs her," I thought. I waited twenty minutes, and called again. "He just passed," Mom sobbed. At 10:39 AM, April 10, 1994.
I am sure that we all have such connections and seemingly psychic abilities. Animals have them and use them all the time. We suppress premonitions and feelings of dread, and tell ourselves we're crazy when we have them. We should listen to our subconscious. It knows things we cannot know.
My sister Micky is probably the best at listening to her subconscious voice. We have a family story about her that raises the hair on my arms even today. My mother was an avid bridge player, and she met every few weeks with a bridge club in our neighborhood in Richmond. One of the ladies in the club was, shall we say, not known for her culinary contributions. We'd always ask Mom what Virginia had brought to the potluck when she got home. This time, Micky made a prediction as Mom was getting ready for her night out.
"I'll bet she brings English Pea Salad," Micky proclaimed.
" And I'll bet she drops it before she walks in the door."
We could hardly wait for Mom to get home that night. She finally came in around 11, smelling of cigarettes and stale perfume. We crowded around when she came in the door. "What did Virginia bring?" we chorused.
Mom went pale as a sheet.
"Virginia brought a big glass bowl of English Pea Salad. And she dropped it on the front stoop as she was coming in the door." We dissolved in gales of amazed laughter. Of course, Mom hadn't had the heart to tell anyone about Micky's prognostication, for fear of embarrassing Virginia, so she'd had to hold it in until she could race home to tell us Micky had been dead right.
Spooooky.
There's got to be a way to harness power like that. For starters, I'd like to take Micky with me to Arkansas and Florida, and hunt us up some ivorybills.
From there, my day definitely improved. I got a sitter for the kids, and Bill took me to Parkersburg WV to finish up our Christmas shopping. If there's anything more fun than outfitting willowy Phoebe
with a new winter wardrobe, I'm hard pressed to think what it would be. We had a blast. I called my sister's house and found out that Mom hadn't broken anything. Bill and I had a lovely dinner out to celebrate. I called home to check in and Phoebe told me that one of my commentaries had aired on NPR. It's about Christmas caroling. You can listen to it here.Bless Mom's bones, the power of the subconscious, and the little voice within. It was a good day.
posted by Julie Zickefoose @ 10:48 PM
19 comments
19 Comments:
Your day ended well and I'm happy for you!
I agree with listening to your senses and knowing when something is about to happen. Early last April, my Mom was admitted to the hospital and even though plans were being made for her return to home, I knew she wouldn't. She died on May 25, still in the hospital. No one else had my feeling but I was almost certain.
Willowy Phoebe is a beauty and shopping for her must have been quite a pleasure! In a few years she'll grow even more beautiful :)
Because Willowy Phoebe reads this blog regularly, I think it's important to note here that we DID NOT BUY ANYTHING FOR HER FOR CHRISTMAS tonight. She'll just have to hope that Santa can squeeze through the chicken wire 'coon proofing on our chimney to bring her a gift or two.
I just listened to your NPR commentary. My favorite carol of the season, "Oh, Holy Night"...Bravo!
I read the title of this post and then I looked at the photo immediately below it. At first glance, it looked like the tree was on fire.
I'm glad to hear your mom is ok. Those funny little feelings are not to be ignored.
Sarah B. from Albuquerque
Somehow, it does not surprise me in the least that that, among all your other talents, you also have ESP.
Hope your Mom feels better soon...it's easy to joke about sore tailbones but that's a heck of a place to be tender! I bruised my coccyx once a long time ago and it was way less than pleasant.
Now tune in those intuitive skills so that you'll know when the catamount's in the neighborhood. Hope Santa fills all your stockings with puma repellent so you can douse yourselves in it before doing the Loop!
I am also one who believes firmly in premonition, years ago my house burned down and for weeks before I awoke to feelings of dread. Even woke my husband to tell him that the house was going to burn only to have him scoff at me. Well, the house burned, it stated between floors in the chimney. We lived in a hunting trailer for 5 months and two years later when I started having the same dreams about the barn we had an electrician come in and check the wiring. Sure enough at the electrical box a small fire had already started and GONE OUT. I always listen to that little voice now! Loved the NPR piece and Jemkagily I am still laughing at your comment!
I'm glad your mom is doing better.
Enjoyed the NPR commentary.
Don't worry Phoebe, Santa can fit any where, it's magic, don't you know.
As a dyed-in-the-wool "Science Chimp," I firmly disbelieve in precognition, ESP, premonitions and telepathy.
Except....
It happens to me, too. Not often, and only with one special person, but when those messages come, they are powerful. Sometimes, it is just a feeling, sometimes a dream, sometimes an actual thought, and once, I really heard a voice telling me that he was in town. I ignored it, my mind full of scientific disbelief, only to find later that he had been here, and was trying to contact me. Spooky.
I don't know why I'm a doubter - the natural world is full of animals predicting earthquakes or other disasters. If animals have a sixth sense, why can't people? These things are too amazing to be mere coincidences. Is it magic, or some as yet unexplained electrical quirk of the human mind?
~Kathi, wishing Mom a speedy recovery. As a former victim of a bruised tailbone, I can sympathize. Ouch!
Are we all agreed, Witches, that our Message for the Day is
LISTEN TO THE LITTLE VOICE??
My father has come back twice to speak to me, right in my ear, in his voice. He uses my left ear. The stuff of another post.
The Swami, as is obvious to anyone who reads his blog, is a person who adheres strictly to logic, fact and reality (oh, really!).
The brain generates minute electrical signals which theorically could also travel through space. However, it is likely that these electrical signals (which are produced by tiny gerbils on treadmills inside the skull)could only be transmitted over great distances if there were a cord plugged into each persons head.
Julie,
When you brushed your hair, on the day that you had this premonition, did you notice an electrical cord coming out of the side of your head?
Swami will return to this scientific discussion later, but I must pause to loosen my turban.
Julie, we have to talk. The irish refer it the ESP as 'fey' and boy do we have it. I imagine many a female Kirkpatrick was burned at the stake for fey. My deceased father also spoke to my sister because she was very sick and not taking care of herself. Say 'hi' to Dale for me and wish Ida not so much of a pain in the...tailbone.
Gaelic Granny
Phoebe is beautiful!
I'm relieved your Mom is OK....I too at first thought your picture showed your tree on fire..although logically you would never stop to take a picture if that happened.
I have had many similar incidents of ESP with my mom and dad...when I lived in California and they in NJ..I am a true believer in listening to that small inner voice. I think cells somehow communicate despite distance. I know, it's weird but I believe it is true. In fact, I know it is.
Oh...I bought 4 copies of your book for my girlfriends for Christmas. I know they'll love it as much as I did.
Gosh, I'm glad your mom is okay! I can't claim to have any amount of ESP, but I had an incredible experience after my dad died back in the 80s. We were never close but he did try to reach out to me over the phone when I moved out east, a few years before he got sick but (as ashamed as I am to admit it)I was always like "yea, okay, is mom there?"
After he died I went through an incredibly tough time dealing with so much guilt on top of the grief that one night I had a dream that my dad was just sitting in a chair. I gasped and he said, "its me! its okay, come here." I slowly walked to him. He then said, "give me a kiss," which I did. He said "stop worrying about me Chrissy, I love you and I know you love me and that's all she wrote!"
I woke up suddenly with such a peaceful feeling. Was it really him or did my subconscious just try to help me with my guilt? I sure hope it was him!
Christine
Takoma Park, MD
I caught the end of the NPR show on my way home from work late. Really enjoyed it! Since I missed the beginning I wasn't sure who I was listenting to, but the longer I listened, I knew it had to be you. It was really cool to hear your voice. As we read we create our own voices for people, and yours pretty much matched what I had in my head. If that makes sense?
And I have no 'extra' senses. I wish I did.
I have a story along those lines, too. Too long to put in a comment. I'll share sometime.
Fascinating... there are definitely different 'ways of knowing' -- science is one of them, but other channels/intuition ought not to be ignored.
Great story and glad your mom is ok! I used to call my mom on the phone and she would be picking it up on her end to call me. It would not even ring and we would be connected. My sister and I are not allowed on the same team when we play games as we do not have to talk to know each others moves or answers. The husbands get so frustrated!
Great NPR story. And you have a lovely voice!!
thank you Julie
Dawn
My daughter Lylah is tremendously good at the ESP thing, in small ways, often involving me, often when we're in the car. A tiny example: I'd just picked her up from her basketball game and decided to do the Bad Mother thing and take her to the McDonald's drive-through, which we don't often do. There were several cars ahead of us, so we had lots of time to just sit there looking at the cars and the giant light-up menu with all the various meal options on it, from breakfast on through dessert. I sat there thinking about how, in my youth - before every calorie adhered to me like a barnacle - I would have ordered a fish sandwich swimming in tartar sauce. I literally haven't eaten one in years - probably not even in Lylah's lifetime - but when I said, "You know what I'd kill for right now?" she didn't miss a beat. "A fish sandwich." This happens often enough now that I just turned to her and said, "Cut that out!"
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