I have been Missing in Action since last February when I launched my republished book. Due to the pandemic and its deadly toll and the abject refusal of people to do the right thing to help their friends and neighbors, my energy has been so drained, trying to restrain myself from arguing and trying to change people’s minds. I have to keep reminding myself  to accept that there are some things I can not change, to focus on the things I can, and be smart enough to know the difference between the two. Living in the light is a wonderful thing but it doesn’t come easy and if I want it, it takes my constant attention. I have to admit that the slow, lingering malaise of discontent and despair caused by a bitter political Presidential campaign has simultaneously enraged and depressed me. Recently, I  read this essay I wrote after the Center for Spiritual Living’s annual conference in Denver last February. It made me remember  what my journey was all about after all. The proceeds of my book are going to a scholarship fund for children of murder victims. I will soon be announcing an expansion of the program to include children of deceased Covid victims.

As I stood there, alone both in my thoughts and presence waiting for Denver’s 16^th street mall bus, I shivered from February’s early morning bone chilling wind.  I shook my head and once again asked myself why exactly had I chosen a hotel blocks away from the conference, and why was I being too cheap to just take a taxi?

“Too late now,” I mumbled to myself. “Remember why you’re here and this morning’s meditation and prayer.”

I was exhibiting at a conference to sell my book, SOULSEEKER: Reflections on a Spiritual Journey from Darkness to the Light, but things were going badly. Well, that might be a bit of an understatement. I hadn’t even made one sale. My booth traffic was non-existent. Despite my best efforts to engage conference attendees’ interest, they simply passed briskly by my exhibit table without even a sideward glance.

At one point, I went over to a mirror just to make sure I was not invisible. Yup, I was still there. I did an on-site review, analysis, and critique of my exhibit booth. Everything looked good. I smiled. I engaged. I did everything but sing and dance. (not a good idea for me).  Nothing worked. So yesterday I left the conference hall feeling discouraged and when I reached my hotel, I was ready for my old forgotten dark hangouts of disappointment, frustration, and self-pity.`

But thanks to a new-found belief in the healing power of God, I did the opposite. This is because I live in the light and believe in the power of miracles, attraction, and mindfulness.  My belief is based on my personal experience of having had an out-of-body experience and subsequently being miraculously healed from a five-year battle of chronic pain suffered from an autoimmune disease. I had also been miraculously saved from the resulting depression and frustration of an “invisible” disease that doesn’t show externally but eats you up inside. Finally, I was also miraculously saved from killing myself instead of killing my pain with a near fatal level of alcohol in my blood that had left me unconscious in a hospital.

In my search for God, I learned to pray and meditate. So, when I awoke that February morning, I simply asked God again for the strength to accept whatever happens and just be comfortable in that knowledge. As usual, I felt the burden lift and I felt better. I admitted to myself and God that I was a work in progress and asked for guidance and patience

As I thought about all this standing there at the bus stop, my solitude was shattered by the shriek of a women’s voice. I literally jumped inches off the ground and looked intensely around for the source. I saw no one, but I determined that the sound was coming towards me. It was not a scream. It was a woman and she was shouting something.

Soon, I could see her and eventually make out what she was shouting.

“Somebody is going to die today! Somebody deserves to die today! She screamed over and over as she came walking in my direction on the sidewalk. I decided that the best thing to do was get out of her way, face the bus stop, ignore her, and let her pass by.

“Somebody is going to die today! Somebody deserves to die today!” came the voice closer and closer. Then the shouting stopped, and I wondered if she had turned down one of the side streets. I selfishly thought to myself, that if I turned to look and she was there, I would have to acknowledge her and then get involved. So I selfishly chose to not turn around.

“Not today, Lord. I can’t,” I sighed to myself. I had just about convinced myself she wasn’t there when I heard a voice behind me say, “Somebody at this bus stop is going to die today! Somebody at this bus stop deserves to die today!” A chill went up my spine.

Was she going to stick a knife in me? Push me in front of the bus?

As the bus approached, she continued her chant. The bus slowly pulled up as I held my breath. I got on, she followed me onboard. There were no seats available so we stood perpendicular from each other in the front of the bus. I put my back to the wall and for the first time I got a good look at her.

“My God, she looks absolutely normal,” I thought to myself.

“Somebody on this bus is going to die. Somebody on this bus deserves to die,” she started shouting again at the top of her lungs. This time, I watched all the passengers. They put their heads down. They ignored her.  She shouted again. People looked out the window. People looked at their newspapers.  It was as if they didn’t hear her, see her, or that she even existed at all.

I looked at her directly . She wasn’t dressed out of the ordinary and if she hadn’t been shouting out threats, she probably could have blended right into the crowd of other passengers.

When I stared into her eyes, I swear I could feel that intense pain and recognize that familiar feeling of loneliness, invisibility and emptiness.  She suddenly turned and saw that I was looking directly at her, stopped shouting and gave me a quizzical look.

“I hear you,” I said to her and nodded. I have no idea why I said this. My  natural instinct is to react like everyone else on the bus and pretend nothing is happening. But the words kept coming from my mouth, “I hear you … and I understand.”

I swear I saw a spark come into her eyes. Her mouth slowly relaxed and turned from a snarl to a grin and then a smile.

“It’s going to be Ok,” I said. “It really will,” I added with a grandfatherly wink and a smile.

She got off at the very next stop and as she started to get off, she turned and gave me a hug and said, “Thank you.”

I’m not sure how much I helped her or even if I helped her at all, but the rest of the day, all I kept thinking about was our encounter. It was as if she was only looking for someone to acknowledge her existence. Someone to listen to her voice and simply respond. Someone to care.

During my spiritual journey, I have had “miracles” happen in my life after I became compassionate, caring, and willing to selflessly help others without reward or recognition. But while some synchronous events did happen later in that day resulting in an upswing of sales, new partnering deals and future marketing opportunities, I didn’t consider any of them close to being a miracle.

But something else amazing did happen. Throughout the day, I kept remembering my bus stop siren’s unexpected smile and the hug she gave me exiting the bus. It generated this indescribable feeling that somehow a heavy emotional burden had been lifted from my shoulders.

I’ve come to believe that my bus stop companion was right. Somebody at the bus stop did die and somebody at the bus stop deserved to die. It was the shadow remnants of my suffering, selfish alter ego. By reaching out to her, I think I tapped into some painful, lingering memories of my own and by connecting with her I wiped away those painful shadows from the past.

After reading about my encounter again with the 16th Street angel I know everything is going to be OK. It really will!

— Perspectus