Danielle Shaeffer

This is something I'm working on now, it could be a short story or a novel.  I don't know yet.  I'll just keep writing until it has run its course.  Enjoy!

I’ve been a long way from six for quite a while; of course, I’m sure this idea makes no sense to you, so I shall explain.

At some point, I found myself strolling along an isolated beach of sugar white sands watching the waves crawl onto shore, then recede.  My eyes followed their foamy trails back out to sea, and I smiled at the wonder of it all.  Imagine, millions of tiny bubbles streaming into their mother’s vast and open arms.  Then, there was the song.  Music only water can produce, powerfully hypnotic and peace inducing.  Colors danced with each other in the waves, blues and greens and sometimes grays.  I believe in experiences like this, places where your soul can rest.

But, this place becomes like some distant dream, lost forever to the harsh “reality” of our world.  And, it is in this everyday place that I am a long way from six.  Six, is when I can retire to another world.  To be a long way from six means to be stuck, stuck in a world consumed by greed, hatred, and worst of all, a lack of time.  There is no time for stopping; we must forge ahead into some self-created oblivion and wonder at the end of each day, is the hurry worth the loss we sustain?  Are we living without consideration?

For some, it doesn’t matter what they are losing, there will be time later, to relax and appreciate what is around them.  But now, right now, they are busy accumulating senseless possessions, things that will not bring them comfort when their time comes to a close.  And, for a few, this time appears long before they are ready and only then do they consider their lives and the nonsense they allowed themselves to become imprisoned by.

Then there is me, trapped in a world that makes no sense to me, a world that can’t quite make sense of me.  Where do I fit in?  At twenty-eight, I am still asking myself this question.  I’m lost, but not in the traditional sense, because for me being lost means being caught up in the system.  An unforgiving and unimaginative place where things like the spiritual world and faeries seem all but lost to the money we do or don’t have, and the education we may or may not possess. 

What does it all mean?  To me, the world is empty without magic and wonder; to be frank, I don’t understand modern times.  We are missing the vitals that once use to make life interesting. The little things people explain away with science or some other form of rationale.  If you can’t see it or touch it, it can’t be substantial.  We deal too much in concrete forms now, but some things in life just can’t be tangible.  And, why, why are we so afraid of the unknown?  For me the unknown is not knowing how to live in both worlds, confused by the world most people live in and incapable of explaining a world few people see anymore.

Consider the sixth chakra, the third eye, or the center of intuition, imagination, and clairvoyance.  I did not give much thought to the concept until I kept finding myself in places and could not explain how I arrived.  I have to wonder how we manage to drag ourselves through the day.  When we were small, the world was a wondrous place filled with adventure, and little things used to captivate our minds.  What happens to us in the transition from child to adult?  They tell us such things are nonsense, that they have no place in the “real” world, but all those magical little moments are the real world.  Of course, popular opinion would have you believe otherwise, but remember this quote by the renowned scientist Albert Einstein.  “Imagination is more important than knowledge.”  So, why do we push imagination aside in exchange for a dull and senseless life?  I have yet to figure that out.

The way I see things is vastly different; the world has many wonderful shapes and colors, and we should enjoy them.  No doubt, we probably would if we pulled our head out of the societal clouds.  But, no, we remain stifled and wonder what we are missing.

Anyway, let’s get to introductions.  You can call me Bella Shade, which taken at face value means beautiful ghost.  Strange?  Maybe, but eerily appropriate given my circumstances.  My real name is irrelevant in any case.   Most often I feel like an apparition floating through life, whatever that may be, and trying to find somewhere to call home.  Some people have a hard time finding themselves, so while the rest of the world forges ahead, we can’t seem to find ourselves despite constant searching.

I remember being the weird girl for most of my life up to this point and that hasn’t changed much.  The truth of it is I didn’t fit in with the traditional crowd, nor did I fit so well with the odd bunch.  It seems I’m destined to be singular, which I suppose isn’t half bad.  Actually, I enjoy it most of the time.  Though every once in a while, I really wish I was like the majority, even with their inability to see the wonders of life.  It makes it easier on me to think maybe ignorance really is bliss.

Yet, here I sit, gazing out my window, as I often do, and pondering my purpose.  It’s raining and each drop falls against the window like a little drum beat.  It makes me smile.  There is something comforting about those gray skies and the water’s descent.  See, even the rain has a purpose, to nourish the earth.  I realize at this point that I don’t really know myself, and I’m not quite sure how to find this person.  She must be hiding in me alone and afraid of how the world will react to the reality, rather than the everyday persona.  That person is for your consumption; it is easier to swallow than the truth.

I finally decide to drag myself away from the comfort of my window and into my bathroom.  There she is again, the ghost, looking at me and begging for release.  I don’t know how to help you.  You’ll have to sort this out on your own.  I pull my hair back into a tight bun; there, now I’ll go unnoticed.  Probably not, but I like to think maybe the conservative look hides my uncertainty.  I’m getting ready for work; the unavoidable death trap.  Oh, do I really have to do this again?  Can’t I just have one day off of worrying about how I’m going to pay my bills?  I’d like to think rich people have it easy, but I doubt it seriously.   It’s America; we work ourselves to the point of exhaustion, and we somehow lose touch with the real world.  For us, the real world is the working game, but our possessions should not define us.

I don’t understand the job is my life concept, but I probably haven’t found my calling yet either.  So, I suppose I wouldn’t understand.

No make up, I’ve never worn the stuff; I don’t see the point.  Painting my face to pretend even harder that I fit in isn’t my style.  If they don’t like me for who I am, I probably don’t need them around anyway, right?

I wish I could be happy with the way things are, but I’m not.  My job, I work at a bookstore, makes me enough money to pay all my bills and allows me an occasional present for myself.  Still, with all my supposed intelligence I can’t seem to find something I love to do or must do to appease my soul.  I’m restless and the feeling grows exponentially daily; I’m not happy with my life.  Something needs doing, but I can’t quite touch it.  It’s like traveling without a destination.  You cannot accomplish much if you don’t know where you are going.

I dreamt once, at least if felt like a dream, that I was walking down a path lined with old oak and maple trees. Autumn painted the leaves with all its usual colors, bright reds, golden yellows, glowing oranges, and rich browns.  It was late in the evening, maybe ten o’clock, and the moon hung low on the horizon smiling through the trees, like the Cheshire cat, to illuminate the creeping fog that wrapped itself around my ankles.  A slight chill hung in the air.  Surprisingly, I felt only warmth in my beautiful surroundings.

These visions or realities, I still can’t tell you which best describes them, have become more frequent and make me a little nervous.  I don’t know if I’m losing my mind or getting in touch with a higher reality.  The more often they occur though the more discontent I become. 

I decide to read more about the sixth chakra in hopes that I will gain more clarity.  Lucky for me I get a discount on books, so I’ll do some research.  Really, really don’t want to have to deal with work today, but can’t afford not to.  Oh well.  I enjoy being around something I love, books. I’m a book junkie; I prefer them to television.  The best ones teach you something new, but I go for an occasional novel depending on the subject matter.  Books on spiritual issues have the strongest pull for me.

There are quite a few people in the store today; it has to be the rain, this is where I would go on a rainy day.  I like helping people find books and making suggestions, but I keep my dialogue to a minimum.  Verbal communication is not my strong point; I can count my friends on three fingers and believe me those few didn’t come easily.  So, you might wonder how I can be full of words and not be able to speak them.  I can’t figure it out myself; it’s as if there is kink in the translation between my thoughts and my speech.  Hundreds of thousands of words in the English language, and I am still incapable of effectively communicating my thoughts.  Perhaps, this is the reason for the current state of things. 

Are you still with me on this journey?  I’m not sure where it is going, or when it will end, but according to many theological and philosophical views the trip is what’s important not the ending.  If I look at things that way then I suppose I’m exactly where I should be, right in the middle of my story, but with no end in sight.  I could be writing this for the rest of my life, that is a scary thought.  Don’t worry, I promise not to take you that far along, probably just until I figure out what I’m writing.

My time at work creeps by until we finally hit closing time.  Then there is the reshelving of stray books and some vacuuming.  My coworkers want me to come have a drink with them, but I refuse.  I don’t understand alcohol; in large quantities, it very effectively leaves you operating with only your limbic system intact.  I equate it to watching monkeys at the zoo; it does not occur to them that throwing feces at one another is rather disgusting.  Just as isn’t obvious to people when they’ve become extremely obnoxious, and they usually keep right on drinking.

So, I drive home, in the rain, which is now just a drizzle that muddies the windshield.  Luckily, we have wipers.  Ah, the small technological wonders.  They have nothing on Mother Nature.  She is an unparalleled force, unstoppable in many cases.  Humans, in their ignorance, would try to control her, but the fact is you can only flow with her.  Or, she can knock you on your ass, depending on if you choose arrogance or acceptance.  I would go with acceptance; it involves a lot less frustration.  Plus, it amuses me when people get pissed off at the rain, like they can do anything to stop or avoid it.  No, no let them run frantically to their cars, I’d rather walk.  Children play in the rain; why don’t adults?

I pull into my apartment complex, park in the usual place, and then head inside for another night alone.  Oh, don’t worry, I enjoy being a loner.  There are no standards to live up to, but people do tend to think of the solitary life as odd.  Am I happy being on my own?  Yes, most days, occasionally I’ll have a day when I really need company and that is when I call one of my friends.

My apartment is modest.  I have a small living room connected to a dining area and an open kitchen.  There are two small bedrooms and two bathrooms.  I use one bedroom as an office and that is where I do my writing.  Maybe this is a diary of sorts, my attempt to make sense of this world.  Thinking, “good luck?”  I think it may be simpler than popular belief.  Of course, it is exceedingly complicated for me at the moment, hence the narrative.

I love chocolate; I eat it everyday.  Don’t whine about how chocolate makes you fat, if you are going to eat it, enjoy it, and forget about the nonsense.  See, you shouldn’t feel guilty about simple pleasures.  Anyway, I get my evening dose of chocolate and head for my computer to ramble about my day.

Hello, I’m here again.  Today I learned that people still make no sense to me.  This guy asked for my number, I’m attractive I guess, just not confident in my appearance.  I’m leery about new people, especially men.  Men are the single most baffling thing about life.  Most of them seem interested in one thing, I don’t need to say it, but they have no qualms about putting on a show to get at what they want.  Guys, don’t be assholes, if all you want is sex just say so, women aren’t stupid.  Well some of us are.  To be fair though, people download the fairy tale crap into our heads from childhood, and it is a completely false portrayal of the dating world.  Besides, men seem to want girls all dolled up, because reality is a scary thing for them to handle.  Don't worry the thought of a relationship or a woman without makeup doesn't frighten all men, just a whole lot of them.

Women confound me as well with their girly obsessions, clothes, make up, nail color, and on and on.  Who cares?  You think you suddenly become a better person because you invest three hours in your looks?  I’m wondering what you are hiding from under all that stuff. Granted appearances are important if you’re in the film or fashion industry.  If that is your prerogative, go for it, but if you are just going spend your life in anonymity, what’s the point?  But please, please, don’t whine when some drunken moron spills his drink all over your precious shoes, if you tone down the glamour he probably would’ve pass you by.  Unless of course you are naturally, disgustingly beautiful, then you can blame God.

No, I will say it now and only once.  The concept of “God” is utterly ridiculous.  I understand the importance of religion in some people’s lives, because everyone needs to have faith in something.  I have faith in love and only love.  In fact, I think love should be its own religion.  What more do you need in life?  I think I know what I’m searching for now.  I’m looking for a reason to love myself.  It is hard when you have the world telling to do this or that, or that you have to look a certain way.  You must go to college; you must get a job with health insurance (okay that’s important), but the insurance companies have a very difficult time parting with the money you gave them; you must have a 401K so when the market crashes you can lose all the money you were saving for retirement, but hey, shit happens.  We all smile and take it in the rear at one point in our lives; some of us just get in the rear more often then others.  And, no, I’m not talking about homosexuals. 

Speaking on the subject of sexuality, why shouldn’t gay people get married?  I mean seriously over fifty percent of straight couples in the United States can’t seem to get it right.  Why not let homosexuals have a stab at it?  Oh, wait, that’s right, “God” says no, well him and the government.  If you know anything about ancient history though bisexuality and homosexuality were widely accepted.  It was consider natural.  Why do we consider it unnatural if the person you fall in love with is of the same sex?  There is nothing, and I mean nothing, unnatural about love.  Socrates had a male lover, and the man was a freaking genius.  For some reason people still respect his work despite the homosexual leanings, I mean if you are going to discriminate don’t leave anyone out.  I guess some homosexuals are just more acceptable than others.

The weeks go by, same daily routine, and I keep wondering why I’m not happy.  Well, I suppose I can’t complain if I don’t try anything new.  Ah, yes, I’ve been reading more about the sixth chakra; it is actually pretty interesting.  Apparently, how well developed or “open” your chakra is, determines how well you perceive your surroundings.  This applies to the physical and spiritual worlds.  I don’t know if it will help me understand my “visions” better or not.  I still don’t know what I’m dealing with, but something rather unusual did happen to me early one morning.

I awoke shortly before dawn, not the norm for me, but I noticed I had company.  There standing by my door was a shadowy figure.  It was about six feet tall and cloaked its hair a wild mess.  The figure was mostly indistinct, but I got a definite male vibe from it.  I stayed strangely calm during its visit.  Soon it began to fade into the early morning air, as if it had watched me long enough.  I haven’t seen it since, and it makes me a little sad.  If I had to call it anything, I’d call it a nature spirit or faery.  Yes, I believe in faeries.  Why not?  People believe in God.

I bought a yellow rose bush for my patio, but forgot it about it for a couple of weeks.  It looked like a dead tree by the time I got around to taking care of it.  Despite water and fertilizer, it didn’t come around.  Then one morning I woke up early and felt compelled to collect dew from plants.  I only got a small amount, but something told me it would be enough for the dying rose bush.  So, I poured it over what was left of the plant, and sure enough a few weeks later I had several beautiful yellow roses.  Now, for me at least, that is proof of nature spirits, but some people would explain it away with science.  The plants probably release nutrients as the dew forms and there is your explanation.  I prefer the idea of natural magic.

So, back to work with me; a new girl started at the store today.  She seems cool, minus her fanatic adherence to the Southern Baptist religion.  Her obvious southern roots tend to make an immediate impression, so to speak.  Anyway, she somehow got wind that I am not religious; I don’t know who divulged that bit of information, but I might kill them for it.  And, now she has taken it upon herself to “save me from my evil ways”.  Now, I get to hear about how I’ll “burn in hell” if I am not baptized and some other crap about “accepting Jesus into my heart”.  Jesus was Jewish, so where exactly did Christianity come from, I don’t get it.  Believe me, if I ever find the person who ratted on me they will suffer immensely. 

She used all the usual terminology for properly converting someone, which is ridiculous.  Why?  Well, if you don’t believe in the Bible or Christianity, then chances are you don’t believe in hell or Satan.  Apparently, they don’t teach logic in church.  What am I saying though?  Logic doesn’t factor highly in most religions; they usually use fear to draw you into the mind trap.  In my mind, if they focused more on the positive teachings instead of scare tactics they might make more headway in converting people.  I love how some of them give you those little religious comic books, like they’ll do the trick, but all I do is burn them.  I’m not evil; I just don’t need instructions on how to live.  I have my own internal moral compass which works fine for me ninety percent of the time.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m human I make mistakes, which means I have the occasional immoral slip-up.  Like I said, she is a nice person despite her missionary aspects; I’m sure she’ll give up eventually.

However, she is convinced that she must save everyone, or as many as she can drag down with her.  She doesn’t want anyone to suffer the fate of eternal damnation.  I’m willing to bet she just as lost as everyone else and am just hiding in the safety of Southern Baptism.  Religion is easier to accept than living with the feeling that something is missing.  Maybe we aren’t supposed to have all the answers.  Maybe that hole is there for a reason, to learn what is truly important; we shouldn’t fear the emptiness, it is a necessary part of life.  I think everyone goes through it at some point in their life.  Those times when you feel like something isn’t quite right.  I think most are uncomfortable with the silence that comes with life.  Sure, it feels empty, but you can gain greater insight into yourself, the world, and life.  At least I think so.  In the end, it is an individual’s choice how they live their lives; I don’t have any problem with that at all.  Mainly, I just want people to realize that they can’t expect everyone to believe in what they believe in, it’s unrealistic.  But, if you continue pushing your beliefs on others, you will eventually create discontent and senseless fighting.  That is something history shows us time after time.

I’m taking a day trip to the mountains.  I think a long hike will do me some good.  The summer blankets the forest in warmth, but there is a slight breeze floating through the trees.  I decided I need this time to clear my head, plus recent events warranted me “getting in touch with nature”.  I’m sure the feeling has to do the miraculous recovery of my rose bush.  Anyway, the views are amazing and I keep coming across these little water falls.  I love the tinkling sounds the water makes as it falls over the rocks.  The woods are alive with the chirping of insects and birds.  Occasionally, a squirrel will scamper up a tree when I get too close.  The canopy looks like a bright green stained glass window with the sunlight filtering through the leaves.  By the end of my little journey, I feel refreshed and more at peace with things.  I should do this more often.

I’m remembering my parents getting divorced when I was four; my mom took us away and as we drove down the road the house got smaller.  Even the water tower near the house shrank into the distance until it was no longer visible.  I don’t remember if I cried or not, but it seemed like a right choice for my parents.  Was it odd for me to feel that way so young?  I don’t know, but it just seemed okay to me.

Waking up early one morning, I went to my window to do my daily thinking, and there was this old man walking around in the field behind my apartment.  He seemed to be enjoying his adventure when a little old woman appeared and began making her way across the field to join him.  There was an old, fallen tree in the field and as the woman tried to step over she fell face first into the dirt.  I imagine in much the same way the tree fell.  Her wailing was audible even through my window.  Within a second, her husband rushed to her side.  He helped her off the ground and brushed her off.  Then he carefully inspected her wounds, a cut on lip maybe I couldn’t see, and then he gave her a comforting hug.  It was then that I realized that must be what true love was like, having someone to pick you up and brush you off when you fall, literally and figuratively.  Do you see that?  Why can’t the world see this anymore?  Is there anything more beautiful than a strong and everlasting love?  I couldn’t imagine going through life without experiencing that kind of love.