Love Story: In The Web of Life by Ken Renshaw (snow like ashes TXT) 📕

Suddenly, I was back in the space-time of mybiplane years. I was standing in my desecrated uniform missing thepatches, talking to a beautiful lady dressed in a white lace dressand wearing a floppy wide brimmed lace hat that I could see thesun's rays through. She was angry, scolding me, and shaking herfinger at me. I couldn't get what she was saying, but it was makingme feel sad, rejected. Then, I felt betrayed! This was someone Ihad trusted and loved. She walked away, and I felt my heart sink ormaybe it was a heart attack. The pictures faded and all that wasleft was a profound sense of despair.

I drifted off to sleep feeling that greatfeeling of despair. When I woke up, the despair was gone. As Irubbed my eyes, I decide that I actually felt good, as though aburden had been lifted. I stayed in the hammock for about an hourmulling over my vision, eventually rising into a rather joyfulmood.

I sat up. Put my feet on the ground and tookout my cell phone. Yes, I had two bars here from Buster's localservice. I called Tom who answered right away. He said he wascomposing but wouldn't mind a little interruption. I explainedwhere I was.

I explained my two visions, the dogfight endingin my disgrace and the argument with the lady in white.

Tom said firmly, “I thought I told you not totry this at home. You can really get screwed up with attentionstuck in some space-time.” Then, he said, "Go over the last part ofeach vision slowly."

I did as he listened.

"You are OK," he said. “From sensing yourvibration from here, I can tell you have dealt with whatever thatwas all about. It is OK to think about what it all means, but don'tgo back there again. If you sense you are drifting into anotherspace-time, do something to wake yourself up. It would be anextremely bad habit to cultivate, sooner or later you might getvery sick. Don't aimlessly wander through space-time,OK?"

"Agreed," I replied. "Is there anything I needto watch out for now?"

"Not especially. If you start to drift, grabonto and sense and observe some objects around where you are. Thatwill ground you. When can you come in again?"

"I might be up here a couple moreweeks."

"Be careful. Is Tina up there withyou?"

"She will be here tomorrow."

"Good. Tell her to punch you or slap you if youstart to drift off. Better yet, tell her to kick you in the balls.That will really ground you. Nobody travels in space-time bent overin pain. Take this seriously, it can be dangerous. I have knownpeople who never really get back."

"Good. Let's get together as soon as you getback to LA."

"Thanks," I said. "Goodbye."

I walked around picking up and examiningpinecones and feeling and closely examining the bark of the trees,until I felt confident I was in present time. Then, I walked to thelodge and went in. Buster was stretched out in one of the easychairs, listening to music on his iPod.

He sat up, fumbled with his iPod to turn itoff, and said. "What's happening?" He paused, looked at me withpuzzling expression. "You look like a cat that has just eaten adouble order of canaries."

"Oh. I was snoozing in the hammock and had areally interesting dream."

"She arrives tomorrow doesn't she?"

"Yes, but the dream wasn't about her. I waskind of traveling in space-time to World War I, flying biplanes andthat sort of thing."

"Was that good?"

"Yes, I think so. I think I am learning somelessons from traveling there."

Buster smiled and then picked up his iPod, andsaid, "I think I can travel in space-time with this thing,sometimes. When I listen to a superb performance by a superborchestra under superb conductor, I feel as though I am transportedto the mind of the composer and feel his emotionality. I waslistening to Mahler's fifth symphony. It is a real emotional rollercoaster ride."

I observed. "That is an interesting idea. I sawa PBS show about Leonard Bernstein. In an interview, Bernstein saidwhen he conducted he never remembered anything about a performancefrom the time he was offstage, waiting to make is entrance, untilthe time he was taking his bow at the conclusion. He said he gaugedhis performance by how close he thought he came to becoming thecomposer."

"That sounds like some sort of channeling,which is a form of space-time travel."

Buster added, "An excellent performancetransports the orchestra and audience to the composer's emotionalspace. I guess that would be in some other space-time when thecomposer was creating the work. There are relatively fewperformances that do that for me. I often will buy five CD's orversions of something before I find one that is worth listening to.I have learned which conductors and orchestras can do good jobs oncertain composers."

"You surprise me, Buster, with your knowledgeof art and music."

"I have a master's in Art History. I don'treveal that too many people. It might be bad for the tough manpersona. "

Buster's eyes suddenly went from soft to hardand he cracked his knuckles. "Colson hired the tough guy. He ishere except for these unguarded moments."

Buster laughed as I said, "You have to be toughto enjoy fine dining in Rocky Butte."

I was excited, anticipant. Tina's plane wascoming in at 2:30. We had lived together for two wonderful days,and it felt as though we had always been together. The four days ofseparation was an eon. I thought I could feel her energy ofanticipation in being together again.

I rode to the dirt airstrip with Ben in theJeep. Ben didn't say much, he was an authentic silent cowboy type.He was slim but muscular, about six feet two, with chiseledfeatures, about thirty years old. I didn't expect that he had amaster's degree like Buster, although people like Ben oftensurprise me.

The bright Sierra sun was stronger than I wascomfortable with so I moved over into the shade of a pine tree. Iwas careful to not allow myself to drift in space-time, heedingTom's warning. I sat for a few minutes, enjoying the quiet and myanticipation. The distant sound of the twin engine airplaneinterrupted my reverie.

As it circled low over the field,