an unexpected key

8/8/2019 An Unexpected Key

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An Unexpected Key

You will find, my love, that you will not need to seek these lessons out, you are on a special journey and you will find them knocking on your door.

Scott, Channeled Writing

In looking back over the long and winding path of my spiritual journey, it is now clear

that I was constantly moving forward even though it often felt otherwise. Scott’s passing

had set into motion for me an intense process involving loss and growth, longing and

fulfillment, death and rebirth. At the time, buffeted in turn by devastating lows andhighest peaks, all I could do was live out the experience. Neither my destination nor any

ultimate reasons for my journey were at all clear to me, and I often experienced the

unfolding moments of my life as discordant and unconnected, fragments mademeaningless in their isolation.

One ordinary afternoon as I was walking down the street on Miami Beach a curious

thought suddenly popped into my mind “whole,” with a strangeness and quiet intensity

that struck me. It’s difficult to really describe, but it was felt as a “completed thought,” amessage that seemed quite different than, and apart from, my typical mental blah-blah-

blah. It said

“All loose ends come together.”

“That’s strange,” I thought to myself, “what is that supposed to mean?” It suddenlyoccurred to me that I was receiving from within a message of healing. Or, otherwise put,

a clear answer to a prayer too huge to even understand, much less voice. There are no

loose ends, I began to realize, when only a moment before I’d seen nothing but . Either

there is a greater order to the chaotic unfoldings of our lives, or there is not. Either all

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http://deathisanimpostor.com/2009/04/06/an-unexpected-key/

http://deathisanimpostor.com/2009/04/06/an-unexpected-key/



of it means something, or nothing does. But if this “something greater” did exist, I could

not escape the necessary conclusion that we are all of us somehow part of it, and without

exception: whether or not acknowledged or even seen at all, or despite the strongest andmost focused resistance. If any of us were woven into some grand tapestry we all were:

not only interconnected, but interwoven. we were all joined together in some Greater

Dance of the divine unfolding. The idea felt to me of a huge promise, because all that anyof us have ever longed for, really, is to have a place in it all.

We might not want or need to have that place defined, nor (certainly) dictated by others.

Perhaps it was a suitable life purpose just to seek answers to that greatest of questions, in

one’s own way and at their own pace. Of what meaning is any journey, if there is no place from which to start, nor any known point of return? How is a tree to grow, its

mighty limbs reaching ever upward closer to the Heavens, without of necessity relying

upon the roots that are always, at the same time, reaching deeper into the Earth beneath?

Stranahan Hammock (detail) P. Crockett

What we now perceive to be loose ends are in fact the “divine slack” essential to letting

that plan become manifest in its fruition. Somehow, in a way now beyond the limits of

our perception, everything was in its proper place and serving its role. “Nothing is exactly

as it seems to be,” I thought, “and everything has its meaning.” The message was larger than I could comprehend, but somehow deeply reassuring. Just let go and trust, it quietly

whispered. You may not know where you’re going, but you are walking on a path of

love. How can you not get there?

It is also clear to me, in looking back on the path, that breakthroughs often occurred whenI least expected them. My journey had certainly led me into some uncharted territory, into

the depths of, and finally back out, of some dark valleys of the spirit, but it seemed I

could go nowhere Scott was not. Time and again I had felt the grace of his love when Ineeded it most, white light easily penetrating the clouds of my hopeless gloom. Had my

painful wanderings in the shadow served some unknown purpose, helping to prepare me

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for each breakthrough that lay ahead? I noted that the intensity of my contact with him

seemed to increase when I traveled out into the world, venturing away from the home

we’d shared. Were there deeper meanings to be discerned in the patterns of communion Ihad begun to observe over the course of time? Was there an important key hiding here

just beneath the surface? What was Scott trying to tell me?

Though I could not be certain about the answers to any of these questions, my intuition

left me absolutely no doubt that nothing about our contact had been accidental. I had been provided with each additional key precisely as I was ready to receive it, but there was

more to the story. I felt that the timing of each experience itself reflected a divine

intentionality, one founded on love, and quietly offered its own lesson.

“Here is the light; remember!,” he’d gently whisper while I was deep within the darkness,

or “Here I am, feel me!” at moments I felt sure he was either completely lost or distantly

elsewhere. Beyond their substance of reassurance and education, the style of his

messages quietly coaxed me to drop my limiting preconceptions, to open up and

recognize the holiness of the everyday. “This too,” his reassurances gently assured me,“is part of God’s plan. You are right where you need to be. Just walk your path, live your

life, and I’ll be with you.”

Hammock Awaiting P. Crockett

The next such unexpected moment of breakthrough occurred in the most unlikely of

settings, a raucous and somewhat surreal New Year’s Eve party celebrating the arrival of 1997. I had not planned on even attending the event, having had more than my fill of

partying during the season, but wound up going with my friend Michael and his life

partner, Keith. “Why don’t you come over for dinner and then go with us?,” Michael had

invited. “I just don’t know,” I responded, hesitating, “another party…” “Come on,” heinsisted, “we’ll have a good time. Also, it’s for a good cause.” My dear friend knew how

to push my buttons. The party, to be held in an elegant old Spanish-style home on Miami

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Beach, doubled as a fund-raiser for a local political organization promoting equal rights

for lesbians and gays. “O.K.,” I smiled, “What the hell. You got me.”

Later that evening, among the crowds in the home, I still wasn’t sure exactly what I wasdoing there. I had a drink or two, enjoyed seeing a few close friends in a festive frame of

mind, and wandered around the home and grounds. As a novelty, the party was organizedaround a “fortune telling” theme, and four “psychics” using tarot cards, palmistry, etc.

were present upstairs to give free, short consultations. By the late hour of our arrival along list of partygoers had already signed up for each session, and were awaiting their

turns and just hanging out up and down the grand old staircase. On a whim, I decided to

add my name to the list. Why not, I thought.

“It’s gonna be a while,” warned the man in charge of the long list, nervously looking athis watch as he crossed off another name. “And I’m not sure how long they’re gonna

keep on going.” The hour was approaching midnight. “Whatever,” I said, “No big deal.

I’ll just go get a drink.” I walked over to the bar, casually ventured outside to enjoy a

brief chat with my dear friend Alex Douglas as we sat together on the wall outside thehome, and finally wandered back inside as nature called. I found a long line filling the

hall outside the sole downstairs bathroom, and resigned myself to waiting. A light rainhad fallen earlier that evening and the elegant tile floor on which we stood was dirty and

soaked, its slick surface covered with muddy footprints. I knew the bathroom had been

used that night to its capacity, and that the sight awaiting us was probably none too pretty. All in all, I thought to myself as I waited, this is pretty disgusting.

Then, just to pass the time, I casually asked the man ahead of me in line if he had signed

up to see any of the psychics. I had simply made the remark to break the ice, but he gave

me a serious response. The tall thin blonde man, appearing to be in his 40′s, turned to me

and looked me in the eye. “No way,” he quickly replied. “I’m doing some real work withsome talented mediums, and this kind of ‘joke’ stuff can really mess you up. It can

interfere with your energy, and set you back.” “Really,” I responded, intrigued. “You

know, I’ve been blessed myself with having had the chance to work with a truly gifted psychic, this woman in Pittsburgh who’s helped me to communicate with my dead lover.

She’s made a real difference in my life, really helped me to heal.” The man stared at me

intently for a moment, thoughts apparently racing through his mind, as he considered myunlikely words in this unlikely setting.

In that split second he was deciding whether or not he could trust me, or should, and

whether he could freely speak his heart to this stranger. Looking into my eyes, I saw him

decide that he could. He introduced himself as Mike, offering me his hand. In the nextcouple of minutes, before his turn arrived, we shared a brief but intense conversation

about matters of the spirit. He mentioned that he was doing some exciting work in the

paranormal with a number of people, including a guy who lived in New Mexico namedDavid, and briefly explained the outlines of his spiritual search. Finally, seeing that his

long-awaited time for the bathroom was at hand, he asked “Listen, do you have a card?

I’d really like to get you some information.” “Wait a minute,” I replied, “let me see.”

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After patting a few pockets, I found a slightly wrinkled business card and handed it to

him.

“I’ll be in touch,” he said pocketing the card as he parted. I had enjoyed the chanceencounter, but didn’t make much of it. Within the next day or two the meeting seemed to

recede into dream, abetted by the late hour and the drinks I’d had. Upon my arrival back at the office a couple of days later, however, I found awaiting in my inbox a neatly typed,

faxed letter on Mike’s business letterhead. Although momentarily puzzled by the letter,my memory was refreshed by its first sentence, “It was a pleasure meeting you on New

Year’s evening.” In the short letter he shared with me the names, specialties and

telephone numbers of three people he had found most helpful in his exploration of the paranormal, and invited me to call him if I was interested in further discussion on the

topic.

The first name on the list was a man named David, identified as a “Futurist/ Mentalist,”

with a phone number in New Mexico. I remembered that Mike had mentioned him during

our brief conversation, and played with the idea of giving him a call to set up anappointment. Why not? For whatever it was worth, hadn’t the Universe dropped this

opportunity directly into my lap? It might turn out to lead nowhere, I realized, but theconnection that had been made was simply too striking (and bizarre!) to ignore. “This is

just too Celestine Prophecy,” I chuckled to myself, recalling the book’s message that

nothing was coincidence, that we were provided with one key after another if we wereopen to receive them. I had found the book hokey, far too contrived to easily swallow

even as a story, but nevertheless been struck by the power of some of its ideas. TheCelestine Prophecy was just a book, not purporting to be other than a fictional vehicle for

the author’s messages. But this was my life!

The next day I called Mike to thank him for taking the time to follow through and writeme the letter, and sharing the information. “I’m thinking of calling that guy David,” I told

him in the course of the conversation. “Do I need to make an appointment or anything?”

“No,” Mike replied, “he’s a really great guy. Just go ahead and call him up. I already toldhim I gave you his number.”

I could not then know it, but I had yet again been handed a precious key to my unfolding

spiritual journey. The following afternoon, I placed a long-distance call from my lawoffice to Alamogordo, New Mexico.

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an unexpected key

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