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The Embarrassed Spirit

   
 
 

When I lived in San Angelo, Texas, and was in graduate school, I was part of a poetry-reading group that met once a month. Many of us liked to workshop our poems and read them aloud to each other, “testing” the rhythm, the words, how it flowed, etc.

One day I was excited about reading a poem I had written for my grandmother, who had died several years earlier. I was really proud of it, and I submitted it, along with several other poems, to a magazine. It was accepted just a few months later and published.

Shortly after this, I experienced what I feel was not a “dream,” but a “spirit visitation,” which took place while I was asleep. In came several of my “deceased relatives,” filing by me, all looking very much like I remembered them, even wearing the same style of clothing, or a particular dress or suit I had liked. The only difference was, they all looked quite younger and healthier than I remembered, but I still could clearly recognize each one of them.

Finally, my grandmother came by, and she was difficult to see; she seemed “darker” than the others, and she had her head slightly turned away from me, and her shoulders were pulled down, hunched-over. She did make very quick eye-contact with me, but then she “shuffled” aside, and they all left.

When I awoke, I instantly realized that my grandmother, who had always been a very modest, quiet woman, was trying to tell me that she was “embarrassed” about being talked about and discussed so openly among the other graduate students in my poetry group! I also got a clear feeling that she wasn’t so happy about being “published” without her consent!

I just had to laugh at this one; I talked to her after that when in a meditative state and explained that I was simply rejoicing in her life, and that no one thought anything about it, other than she was a remarkable woman who just happened to be my grandmother – and, I also reassured her, since I knew this kind of thing mattered to her – that none of the “neighbors would talk!”

She’s never “stopped by” again. Maybe she’s still holding a grudge!

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