Hi everyone,

Thought I'd share a few retrievals. This little lady I will never forget.

I could hear her before I could see her. She was obviously distressed, talking to herself, wondering out loud where her friend was. She was surrounded by a dense and filthy gloom, in Focus 23. Her voice suddenly escalated in pitch and I stopped, worried she was reacting to my sudden presence, but I got that she was dealing with a lot of fear and to proceed carefully.

We were standing under what felt like a freeway, cold cement curving upward into a blackness that was filled with airborne grit and exhaust. As she came into view I then understood she was in her eighties and had been homeless for many years.  Dry, scraggly gray hair pulled into a knot in the nape of her neck. Looked like she was wearing two dresses, both faded flower prints that had seen better days. Her clothing was  layered, stained and dirty. She was leaning on a handle attached to a wooden cart, which was low to the ground. I understood that she apparently pushed it around like a shopping cart. The four small wheels made me wonder if it had started out as a go-cart, a kid’s thrill ride in a suburb from long ago. Everything she owned, including many shoes and a lot of plastic bags, was in that go-cart. Shoes and bags were extremely important to her.

I softly introduced myself and watched as she jumped, her eyes suddenly large and fearful as she realized someone was only a few feet away. I immediately told her there was nothing to fear, that I just wanted to know if she was okay. She proceeded to tell me all that was frightening her, her voice cracking as she hopped from one problem to the next. She was confused about where her home was, her living area. She couldn’t find a buddy of hers. She complained about her neighborhood going to the dogs because of gangs. She was in a kind of queasy catch-22, too scared to make a decision and too scared not to, which only fueled more confusion and anxiety. In order to get her attention away from her own fears I looked down into her cart and offered a compliment on all the shoes she had. It then came to me that shoes were valuable as a bargaining or trading tool, in addition to having something to protect her feet. There must have also been hundreds of white, plastic, scrunched up grocery bags, crammed in between clothing, boxes and all kinds of stuff she considered her treasures. And to keep a handle on things I then asked if she was hungry. Before she could respond I jabbered on about a nice soup kitchen I knew of, a safe place where no one would bug us, or try to convert us (lol). Just hot food, a place to rest and maybe get in on some gossip. As she anxiously searched my face, wondering if I could be trusted, I smiled to let her know I understood. I felt such love for her and watched as her protective wall of pain and fear began to evaporate.

She was willing to follow my lead as we began walking. She insisted on pushing her treasure cart.  I felt the need to keep her attention on me, to keep her distracted somewhat in order that she not start questioning me or why I had taken an interest in her in the first place. We talked about her beautiful shoes, the ones she liked the most, and where the good dumpsters were in the city. She complained about the lack of veggies and fruits that use to be so plentiful. Restaurants use to leave their leftovers out back but that was getting scarce too.

When she  suddenly stopped talking I knew she was taking in her new environment. We were standing on a narrow cobblestone street at the entrance to a homeless shelter, in a rundown city in one of the vast worlds of the BST. Most of the folks I’ve met there are always homeless, pretty much living as they had while in the physical. As I gestured toward the entrance to the  shelter in front of us, describing the cafeteria, beds, theatre and bus tours frequently offered for free to all residents of Homeless City (the tours actually end up taking many to the next areas of consciousness that‘s best for them), I could feel my Treasure Lady starting to panic. I got her to step inside with me just as a tall, radiant woman approached us and took her shaking hands into hers, exuding warmth and love. Treasure Lady stopped shaking, seemingly enthralled with the woman, aka a cafeteria volunteer, aka a Helper. As the two engaged in a conversation I heard Treasure Lady say her first name and as I tried to pronounce it she corrected me. It was Maralynn, she had to spell it out slowly for me (lol). I thought, what a beautiful name, but she would always be Treasure Lady to me.

Knowing she was in good hands I decided to venture into an area of the Homeless City I’ve been to many times. As I moved quickly through unkept, deserted, two-story shops and markets, it suddenly hit me that I had helped a person stuck in Focus 23 to get out, and from there into a BST world. In wondering why, I got that Treasure Lady was so thoroughly entrenched in her homeless/fear/anxiety frame of mind that she needed to be transitioned gradually. In her world, no one was ever to be trusted. Monsters had loomed in dark corners and it took all she had had to guard against mind invasion and manipulation, assaults, rape. I thanked unseen Helpers for the information about her and expressed gratitude that I was able to help a little. And before I continued into the heart of the city I wondered which tour Treasure Lady would eventually go on. It wasn’t my call…but I hoped for Focus 27.


Thanks for reading and much love,

Ginny

Very well done Sis, i could see it in my mind eyes with all the triming..
Thanks for sharing.
R.

Hello Bro,

Where have you been! (lol). What's up with the penguin ?

Love you,

Sis