Divine Inspiration Reconnects Teenage Sweetheart Bond After 43 Years To Kick Carcinogenic Cat
“Thank you for sharing your truth Diane. It gives hope and is inspiring and validates the importance to stick to your truth.” LB
“You did a SUPER DUPER job.” SS
How divine inspiration by any other name can be a valuable instrument in today’s world when one’s mind is open to receive that kind of guidance, along with the understanding it is just another facet of our expansive human potential for grander and broader knowledge. How moments of decisive fortitude in this Life & Death ordeal extraordinaire reveal the basic truth that life unto itself truly is a gift to be celebrated and our choice to evolve our consciousness toward that awareness is ultimately our own.
Imagine me and my first high school boyfriend forty-five years later about to reunite in person, but with a beautifully bizarre twist of fate that renewed a special bond to inspire a phenomenal faith when death seemed the only outcome.
I learned a thing or two about trusting my hunches over the years, but when a song in a movie triggered a nostalgic sentiment that brought a vital message for my high school boyfriend after 43 years apart I thought my brain back-flipped into the twilight zone. I sensed I needed to phone and ‘make sure he was okay’, but then wondered not only whether to act, but how not to sound like a crazy person in the face of a possible closed mind. There’s no way I could have known about his fateful struggle with a cancerous brain tumor that was further complicated by multiple surgery delays any more than I knew of his previous lung cancer that almost took his life five years earlier.
As it turned out calling him was the best decision I made for both of us and the fact he was so happy I did was an incredibly huge relief for me. The very next day he got his long-awaited surgery that he says never would have happened had we not spoken and that I gave him the faith to move forward. He said he wouldn’t have answered that call from the hospital to inform him the sky was clear for flying, because he had truly given up all hope by then. Thankfully, he did answer the phone, but unfortunately this ‘carcinogenic cat’ as I call it had more lives than just two in it for him when another tumor appeared on his lung only a couple of months after that brain surgery.
Over the past eighteen months we’ve spent much phone time catching up, exchanging philosophies and discussing alternative medicines, which led me to experiment by making my own topical canna-balm for muscle and joint pain. In my saga with Rocky, I share my observations, feelings and actions in doing my very best to inspire and support his choices throughout every gruelling gauntlet imposed on him by the medical system. When he couldn’t take it any more and moved away to do life differently I noted his active enthusiasm in pursuing the quality of his life, quantity unknown.
There is a myriad of interconnected stories that created this story and to this day Rocky credits me for saving his life with that single phone call, which is a surreal notion in my mind since my part was to act on a strong hunch. I know he played a huge part himself by being on the same wavelength in wanting to live and all those subsequent death-defying doctoral decisions were all his. Today we exist in mutual states of euphoric anticipation for the day when that seemingly timeless bond we forged as teenagers will have reconnected itself fully with a physical embrace of our ever virtuous love.
It is ordinarily agreed most people are comfortable with the concept of happy coincidences and get the gist of synchronicity in chance encounters. Some folks even revel in a bit of déjà vu now and then without being too spooked about it. But, there’s a big shying away when it comes to any phenomena beyond those and which might resemble ‘divine inspiration’ in every day life without the religious context. I’ve certainly had my share of unexplainable fortuitous happenstance and keep my metaphysical mind open to what some would call woo-woo, but this beautifully bizarre experience was off the chart even for me.
This amazement story begins during one of my favourite evening pastimes where after finishing a busy work project I treat myself to dinner and a movie, or more specifically Spaghetti Puttanesca, Merlot and Netflix. As usual, the hardest part of this ‘me’ time is choosing which movie to watch, and as usual, I go with what jumps out in my searches. My picks are mostly in the action and adventure genres where I can let my brain cells settle into the wine glass while my body settles into the futon and I can be thoroughly entertained. This August evening in 2017 started out just like any other treat night when Pulp Fiction appeared on my radar. I figured since I hadn’t seen it in many years, it was time to revisit my decades-younger action heroes and heroines bringing Quentin Tarantino’s cult classic to life. At one point about halfway through the movie Uma Thurman arrives home with John Travolta and in continuing her dance craze she rewinds the reel-to-reel to Urge Overkill’s rendition of Neil Diamond’s 1967 song, ‘Girl, You’ll be a Woman Soon’.
It may have been the wine, the words, the music or all three, but that song stirred me to my core when it triggered a powerful nostalgia that put me into some kind of energetic stasis throughout the rest of the movie. Afterward I did what I always do when a song affects me so profoundly and clicked on over to the Youtube channel in search of the original version so I could listen to it over and again. It seemed the more I replayed it the more my entire energy field shifted back to a time in my high school youth when I was innocent and naive, and of course loved Neil Diamond. For sure my throwback virginity was a nice space to be in, but while I was basking in my adolescence I got a strong sense of concern for my very first boyfriend from high school. Along with this sudden concern I got an equally strong impression to call him for no other reason than ‘to make sure he was okay’ in spite of the 400 miles and 43 years distance between us.
It is true I often get hunches from my sense of inner guidance and always follow through, but this was different and I did some earnest waffling over the idea for half an hour while searching the white pages online for the phone number of a Rocky Cave in Quesnel. I wondered if this notion was maybe some new form of wistful thinking I was experiencing and what could I possible say to him that would make sense of this sudden contact after more than four decades. I had no idea if he still lived in that city or inkling of his marital status, or even if he was alive, but for sure there was some urgency in this intervention into my otherwise quiet evening. The only certainty I had to go on was the clearly resounding statement of the message I was to relay to him in that ‘I needed to make sure he was okay’. It was because the impression was so strong I realized I had no choice but to call, so I justified my apparent absurdity by reminding myself Rocky can do whatever he wants with the information just as long as he gets it.