Chapter Twenty-Four (2005 ~ 34 years)
On top of a Slippery Slide
To help another is the greatest thing; unless they don’t want to be helped
"The reality of the other person is not in what he reveals to you, but in what he cannot reveal to you. Therefore, if you would understand him, listen not to what he says but rather to what he does not say. Of Sand and Foam by Kahlil Gibran"
Rory and I eventually came together physically. All my refusals had weakened to agree and I became attracted to his energy and promises of experiencing great love.
I mindfully protected myself for our impromptu relationship—a relationship I would have had more confidence in if Rory had given up even one of his worst habits, as he promised on New Year’s Eve. ‘I was going to give up cigarettes…now I’m going to give up alcohol’, he asserted after going DUI.
He wished to give up cigarettes initially, but after the police fright, he declared he was giving alcohol away. Strangely, I believed him. At first, he cut down on both, and I hoped cutting down would be enough for me. I knew myself well enough to realise I was boring when it came to alcohol, and had difficulty remaining in harmony with people erratically under its influence. I also hoped cutting down would be enough for him. He had asthma, so the less smoking the better.
A karmic test on his resolve came the very next day when the police stopped us again, in the early evening of January 1. Luckily, Rory had had only one beer during the day and a glass of wine. After blowing in the bag and registering a reading of under 0.5, he appreciated being told to drive on and have a good night. However deep down, I knew it was only a matter of time before he had one drink too many and went again. I desperately didn’t want to be again sitting beside him when he did…
I worried more than I usually would because Rory didn’t eat much and drank often on a near empty stomach… conscious body abuse, in my eyes. I sincerely hoped my love and tolerance would continue during this time, trusting that whatever would be would be. I didn’t want to impose anything on him. I had no right to. I sent many prayers to the Universe, to God asking for help to see clearly, love clearly, dearly, wisely. Rory seemed to be a beautiful man; I wished to keep our friendship and energy precious for each other. I prayed for guidance that I was on the right track and for no harm to come to either of us, or to the planet.
* * *
In mid-February, I spoke as a motivational speaker for the Wesley Mission staff meeting at Ryde Eastwood Leagues Club, compliments of my eternal friend Paul. Paul was chairing the meeting and invited me to give a talk. I was delighted! The talk was similar to the one I gave the Post School Options staff last January, although the discussion wasn’t as expansive. Only three people asked questions and I felt it was due to the rectangle table set up and not asking open-ended questions to invite topic discussion. The talk was a little raw; I was out of practice and my inspiration felt depleted. My mind had been too intent on other things not world-changing for the greater whole. I’d been too concerned about Rory and too wrapped up in the emotions of emotion; I felt I’d lost something.
Two incidences occurred at the club that re-affirmed my connection to the beautiful universe. I met a man named Jim O’Shea. Sometime ago he’d had a stroke and he limped up the stairs in front of us. I called out congratulations when he reached the top. He came over and I picked his accent as coming from Kinsale, Ireland, because my flatmate in London was from Kinsale and sounded just like him.
We had a wonderful talk and he gave me a business card that had a Leeds, West Yorkshire address on the back, which I thought was a sign, as Rory came from there. He said we’d meet up after the talk and sure enough he waited in the bistro. He informed me he had a vision that morning from a friend who had had MS before she passed over.
He told me he said to her, ‘You don’t visit me very often these days. What have you got to tell me?’
She smiled a huge smile and said, ‘You’ll see’. On our meeting, Jim said he felt he was meant to meet me that day and had two books to give me! The Reconnection and Ask and It Is Given.
The other incident involved a woman who worked at the club named Trish. She was in the bistro and saw me wheeling myself sitting cross-legged (one knee up) in my chair.
She said, ‘What’s a beautiful girl like you doing in a wheelchair? You should be up running about!’
I told her my problem and she moved into psychic mode predicting I would be up walking again, but may need crutches. Trish also said the man I was seeing wasn’t right for me, and in the future I would meet the man would take me in the palm of his hands and love me splendidly. I inquired if he could be the same man who had transformed from his current ways. She said he might be, but didn’t offer assurance.
IN LATE FEBRUARY, I rang the fire farm and spoke to Luke. Luke and Grace had told me about Shastri and I needed verification to remain on my believing track. I gave Luke a quick run down on my current situation and of the contrasts to Shastri’s timings and predictions. For example, I was no longer drinking the mid-stream of my morning urine, as it was physically difficult for me to perform. Shastri had said my karma was far too good to be suffering, and if that was so, not drinking my urine shouldn’t have any ultimate affect on my healing. I told Luke my book was already supposed to be released, and of its outcome as predicted by Shastri. I also told him of the man I was meant to meet in November 1999 to August 2000. I didn’t meet him during that period, and if he was the one I was with now, then he was supposed to have never thought of marriage.
Rory had married twice! Because of his obvious unawareness on how to have a relationship, I had immediately and arrogantly presumed he’d never had a meeting of minds with his wives and therefore had ‘never thought of marriage’ (in the words Shastri expressed). Luke said perhaps I’d met the wrong man. He also said he didn’t like dates in predictions and advised me to pray and follow my heart. He also strongly recommended performing Agnihotra again for my health and safety. Getting up and down for sunrise and sunsets fires for Agnihotra was too hard for me physically to conduct anymore, at least I could still pray!
I didn’t pray enough… and Rory and I seemed to be evolving, even though we almost broke up towards the end of April. We broke up momentarily, but the goodbye cuddle made it heartrendingly impossible. There was far too much love between us to let go so quickly, without trying to make us work.
‘I am meant to be with you and you with me. Soul mates’, he wrote in a text message. So ready for higher love in my life, the romantic in me replied, ‘It certainly feels that way. Soul mates rule!’
The major thing standing between us was the same old thing… alcohol. Fire Water! From the beginning I told him I didn’t go out with drinkers. He convinced me it would all fall away…. just watch. Of course, it hadn’t simply fallen away. He reduced the quantity and frequency of his intake, but its insidious nature continued to rear its ugly head.
Even so, I still went out with him. We went to a Brackets and Jam Full Moon Festival on top of Kincumber Mountain reserve for a friend’s birthday celebration. Paul and other great friends were there to share the gathering. The drums were hypnotic and the speakers wonderfully loud and basey! I loved sitting beside Paul and friends as they stood moving to the beat in such an elevated atmosphere… my mind went flying back to dance parties.
On this occasion, an ex-musician from Midnight Oil was the star attraction on the didgerie-do, drawing large crowds. Cars were parked a quarter down the mountain. Fire dancers performed tricks with fire sticks and the drum circle was held outside under the starry night and full moon. Towards the end of the evening, I told Rory I couldn’t wait for us to be able to dance together. I loved his rhythm and beat! He agreed but added, ‘Even if, by some slight chance we don’t get to dance, we can always dance in our minds!’ Even though I told him I loved him, his statement took my breath away and touched my heart to the core. He felt like the answer to my prayers and dreams come true. Thinking, how much more depth would one want from a person? I wasn’t thinking clearly.
* * *
For the first time in my life, I attended a dawn Anzac Day ceremony. The alarm rang at 4.30 am and we rose easily after sleeping well together because Rory didn’t snore in his open-mouthed-creating-loud-popping noises way because he hadn’t had a big drinking session before bed. I’d taken to wearing ear plugs to try to sleep beside him despite the racket; but, nothing short of Rory reducing his drinking made much difference.
After tea and toast made by Mum, we were out the door 25 minutes later. Rory’s van bunny-hopped down the road and we thought we wouldn’t make it, wishing we had taken Mum’s car, but luckily she started up again. We arrived in Woy Woy a short time later, found a nearby car park, and after Rory unloaded the wheelchair then me, we quickly headed off to the service. A large number of people were still making their way to Memorial Park, and we joined the end of the march following a person pounding a drum.
At the gathering, candles were handed to us to symbolise the Anzac’s lives. The candlelight flickering in everyone’s hands warmed our hearts and uplifted our spirits, representing the light of souls that never diminishes. The service was incredibly moving. It’s surprising just how moving; I was surprised to be so deeply affected, and could have sobbed loudly thinking about the men’s spirits of Gallipoli and the extent of lives wasted. I allowed my heart to break quietly as tears rolled down my face. Two children were watching me when we faced the west to the sound of the bugle and I smiled through the tears, attempting to make myself appear light-hearted. The bugle blew when we turned east, and again my heart broke. I felt incredibly comforted and supported by Rory’s warm hand on my shoulder. There was no one else I wanted to share this moment with. Rory went every year, and if it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t have even been there, as he invited me to attend with him, and knew the dynamics of how to help me!
Watching the pink sunrise, Rory and I shared a joint at the Woy Woy boat ramp car park after the service. We then went to the Ettalong Memorial Club for the bangers (sausages) and mash breakfast, put on in commemoration of the diggers’ last breakfast. In honour of how many drank their tea as a reprieve from battle, I tried a dash of rum in my tea, but it was too strong for me.
The morning concluded when we met an ex-soldier who told us tales of local history, complimenting the Anzac Day mood. Feeling the rush of experiencing a new and whole-heartedly worthwhile morning, Rory and I then visited my brother David for a few hours, where they drank beers and I smoked marijuana—a substance we could all enjoy together and was amazing at alleviating the searing pressure of sitting in a wheelchair. While they drank, I munched on fruit, finding no alcohol the best solution for my body, which I never really enjoyed anyway… and, as a bonus I rarely needed to visit the toilet!
THE NEXT DAY, I accompanied Rory to the Woy Woy Courthouse—a location I didn’t know of before meeting Rory, even after living in Woy Woy since the age of two. I was now learning about the ‘other’ side of life and my eyes were opening to the seriousness of the law.
Having me there helped Rory’s circumstance to some degree, as I was living proof of his ability to function when he went DUI on New Year’s Eve. Not many people in my situation would put themselves at risk and I told the court this. The judge gestured me forward when he saw my enthusiastic nods while Rory’s representative spoke about his case. ‘You seem to want to say something’, he said, and I reiterated the night’s events and the unnecessary mistreatment from the police by means of immediately assuming lies; wanting to leave me in the car while Rory went to the station; having me sit in the small backseat of the paddy wagon unsupported, with my wheelchair rolling unlocked in the caged area. Adding, how I wished we had America’s ‘walk-a-straight-line’ regulation because Rory wouldn’t have missed a beat.
The judge grew very interested when I mentioned writing an autobiography. He understood this proceeding would be in it, and then spoke about two physically-challenged people he’d met in England who had written a book called Dancing on the Inside, recommending I find it. I was thrilled with his suggestion! Rory was instructed to attend a ‘Roads and Traffic’ programme and issued a later court date.
OUR FIFTH MONTH ANNIVERSARY was later that week. It felt as if Rory and I were growing closer. Even though I didn’t believe it could have been possible, I was now beginning to feel I’d never known such a love! I thanked the Universe for this blessing. Rory showed me love’s depth of feeling with infectious enthusiasm. I had never been with someone so relationship-y; his initial devotion to making us work was endearing. I had thought our friendship was for him to avoid loneliness and to heal from broken marriages. Over the months he tried to show me his love, putting his heart into doing whatever it took to help us work…
Except for giving up alcohol. Alcohol and cigarettes were a great hindrance to my mind and heart, creating an almost impenetrable obstacle to our relationship. Rory seemed to be reducing his heavy ciggy intake, and he had done an about turn with alcohol only drinking with me on special occasions, trying to relax his attitude when on it. To my relief he became more bending when he drank, as I could only briefly communicate with know-it-alls who already knew all they wished to know, and were the last people I wished to learn from.
So, my heart softened incredibly over Rory, and I was beginning to adore him. He said he adored me. It’s an incredible feeling when adoration goes both ways. Although ‘adoration’ denoted probable near impermanence, I cherished us immeasurably and suddenly couldn’t imagine life without him! Good timing, as he soon moved in with Mum, Nan and me for three weeks until a nearby cabin became available.
* * *
Throughout the next 13 pages of this chapter
Rory reverts to old ways.
Bryce Courtenay gifts, endorsement, and motivational speaking.
Reconnection healing sessions.
London July 7.
Continual struggles with Rory and spiritual insights.
Contact with my cousin, Liz and message to my Nanna beyond.
Physical and spiritual distractions from relationship difficulties: Ramtha the Enlightened One, and Cory and his wife visit!
Disappointment at Coast Festival and poems.
Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM).
Health professional, Neil suffers fatal heart attack. Meet cricketer Steve Waugh at funeral ~ offers help with his publisher.
Colourful yet daunting holiday festivities.