Written Chapter Twenty Three - The Reflection

The Misery of Mrs. Geesky Number 23. The Red Reticule.

First, let me offer gratitude and thanks to each of you…for considering this work as a possibility to look within yourself…to contemplate your TRUE NATURE in a world that is constantly changing.

May each of you have a peaceful rest and holy day of gratitude.

I bow to the Divine Wisdom of All That Is within each of us.

For those who want to read The Twenty Third Chapter versus listening to a podcast.

The Reflection

Susan lingers with the remains of the conversation. ‘My power dribbled out and dried up. She is in-your-face.’ Her thoughts to herself. ‘That’s not it.’ Susan alters her course. ‘It’s worse. She digs a hole and drops me in it. Yes. That is, it. She digs a hole. Tries to bury me alive. What creatures do such a thing? Man, only man buries things alive.’

Dissatisfied Susan continues.

‘I don’t have the words to describe what I see. I am exhausted by her sudden blows. I am suspicious of my thoughts, dizzied by the strangeness. I have never met a woman the likes of Mrs. Geesky. I feel sick. It’s a catching sickness. I made a mistake listening to her, to make an effort to engage. I can’t change her. No human being can repair another. But what am I saying? Do I need her to look like something familiar…. a thing, a commonly recognizable thing? I evaluate with the things I know….and what I know is limited. I have no reliable explanation, no picture frame I can put her in. It is my shortcoming, my inadequate mind that shrinks back from the unknown.

What little I know of science is ineffectual. It may be the loudest noise, but the sound shrivels things; reduces things.’

Perplexed.

‘I feel helpless. How did I lose power in her presence? She didn’t look any more powerful when she left. I am not less powerful but why then do I feel squeezed out and desiccated? I feel helpless. I suppose it comes from looking in the wrong direction. The direction of the other.’

Susan laughs at herself.

‘It is a problem of geography. If I look at her as a city, a state, a country with a culture, laws…. boundary lines. Do I respect her, become curious about her mores?

Peace.

‘I never want to fight for anything, but that is it…. I need to fight for peace. She’d require a big fight…. tremendous changes, big enough to include her. I don’t know the map of her world. The road signs are eccentric. She has rules. She says she has rules.

Susan looks down at Loretta who has her snout on top of her front paws. The dog purrs as though she understands.

“She likes you, Loretta. We have that in common.” Susan hears herself as she sees a glimmer of what she wants. She notices that the whirring sounds of Loretta’s contentment purify the air. The leftover thoughts disperse. Susan leans from the waist and runs her hand down into the black silky fur between Loretta’s ears. “She’s right about one thing.” Susan speaks in a sweet buzz against one of Loretta’s ears.

“You are a good girl.”

In commiseration, Susan squats down next to Loretta’s face confiding her private matter with the dog. Loretta slides and flattens out on one side in mutual understanding.

“She’ll be back, Loretta. But I think writing you’re a good girl will not do it for a good note.”

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