It may be premature but this story insists on continuing

The water’s edge is where you can find her most mornings. Unlike the warm turquoise waters of Waimanalo the temperature of bath water allowed to cool slightly, the shores of Puget Sound circle a body of salt and fresh-water that is nearer to iced than hot tea. But the air is water filled and clear, and the wind likes to dance there. She comes to be with the agelessness of the wind. Her nose, lungs and soul seek refreshment and comfort. In a common day, the illness might wake before the earliest of morning’s light. Sadness, pain or disorientation from an overload of exposures to chemicals, fragrances and gasses clogs her river of energy and will not free her for a new day. If, on those mornings a small crack of hope finds its way to the unending well inside, our gal Sally knows being with water is part of her cure. Once out of the house it’s a short drive to the water. Flowing with the water within her, listening with that old memory of cosmic agreement here at the water’s edge Sally Round is reassured that the old gods have not deserted her. The answer to her prayers just might be, “Not yet.”

Her ancestors believe being reborn a human as likely as balancing a grain of rice on the tip of a needle. “She chose to return to Earth as human, and there was an agreement. Blow that memory into her, she forgets,” said the sea. The stars though most brilliant in a night sky are often still awake in the every morning when Sally moves toward the water, “Still her brother, while I call on the innocents to rid her of those rancid collections. Blow makani, blow.” And that is what the sea, his sister the wind and the cousins of the stars do for Sal every time she comes. It’s not so much that the confusion clears so much as a bigger picture makes room for things other than the chaos. Some stages of human life are unclear and no amount of bargaining speeds up the process. A soul’s journey is like that. Cosmic time hums at a rate different from a human’s time.

The fortune teller did not fit Sal’s sketch of a seer. She was younger than Sal by at least ten if not twenty years, dressed in ordinary tee shirt with her dark hair clipped just below her ears. Her name was Japanese. She was Japanese, and will be Japanese for as long as she lives this life. While on those morning walks at the shoreline Sal prayed for assistance and out of a deep sleep the dawn brought a hint: Akasha (It means “the sky” in Sanskrit.) Sally had learned of the Akashic Records years earlier, but the full meaning of that library of soul memories would need human time to reach our gal when and where she needed it. The time was now, the puzzles of her dear life were absent of pieces, she knew it in her bones. Which pieces was the question. At the time of their meeting, Kimiko was just starting her voyage into the world of professional record reader. Sal liked what she read on her website, enjoyed her writing style, recognized that American English was not her first voice and found that a plus. There would be a candor and freshness in her perception and descriptions.

I must tell you our gal Sal has had many teachers in her life, and each of them have shared insight or clues that soothed Sal’s heart, or itched at the curiosity in her mercurial mind. Astrology and numerology have long been staples in her quest for the big and little movements or congestions in her life. This time though the information Sally sought was more specific. What that might mean she wasn’t sure. With anticipation Sal picked up the phone at the agreed upon 2:30 appointment. “Hello.” “Hello. Is this Sally?” the voice was bird-like and confident. “Yes, this is Sally.” “This is Kimiko.” There was a bit of small talk, but very little. The phone consultation lasted just short of an hour. Sally could stop and ask questions at any point. She had very few. Kimiko was new at her art, yet was finely tuned intuitively. There was a written summary as part of the reading, so Sally used her journalist’s note-taking skill to jot what seemed especially important to her. The reading was a broad and detailed assessment. As promised Kimiko’s Akashic Record Reading was like a thorough physical examination conducted by a doctor who included the mind, body and spirit in the process. The service was not limited to the one phone consultation and was not really fortune telling. She provided Sal with three written documents attached to an email communication. An energetic clearing intended to restore Sal’s crystal of a soul to its full beauty was the first focus. Like rays from a precious star glistening atop your Christmas tree, Kimiko said Sal’s star was missing a couple parts. The reading and the homework Sally received were like a million tiny pin holes that freed Sal from a breath held too long. “Poisonous apple indeed, the fabled fruit of jealousy and spite seemed to be the only way our gal Sal could explain her life. Surely there must have been a badly turned jot of fate that was causing such fright.” There are issues a soul can find challenging in the human form, so dense and ‘primitive’ is the body, yet after the session with Kimiko Sal felt an immediate relief that lifted our gal from the murky under-toe. There is a Hawaiian proverb from the collective wisdom of Mary Kawena Pukui: E ho`a`o I pau kuhihewa Try it and rid yourself of illusions. The stories we tell ourselves are fluid like water or as vulnerable as fertile earth poisoned by the conjurings of chemical companies. The fortune teller offered clues to the source of Sal’s poisoned apples and offered a return to a soul healed. Through the twenty-one days of homework Sal rid herself of illusions that wore her down and blocked her from joy and peace. This was a piece of Sal’s puzzle that hid from her until now.

To be continued.