Day 468- All The World’s Indeed A Stage

Today I hear from my friend whose friend passed 2-½ weeks ago. Since then she has been desperate for a sign from him. She and I chat often. I send her Podcasts, recommend books, recommend YouTube videos and give her whatever wisdom/knowledge I’ve accumulated along the way.  Anything to ease her pain, to give her some answers. She wants to know why some people get signs and not others.  How long was it before we got signs from Shayna? I send her a link to a Swedenborg video where they attempt to answer these questions as to why some people get signs and why it has to be signs at all.  Why isn’t it just clear communication? Why can’t we just Facetime them?

Tywana’s gone to Springfield today.  Another funeral. This time, it’s a childhood friend. So, I’m home alone.  Gilbert O’ Sullivan’s “Alone Again” plays on a loop through my head during the hours I’m home alone.  That song came out when I was 12 and it’s always been one that hit me hard.

Reality came around
And without so much as a mere touch
Cut me into little pieces
Leaving me to doubt
Talk about, God in His mercy

Oh, if he really does exist
Why did he desert me
In my hour of need
I truly am indeed
Alone again, naturally
It seems to me that
There are more hearts broken in the world
That can’t be mended

I used to really enjoy these breaks when I had the house to myself for a while.  They’re coming a little too often now that we are empty-nesters.  I’m not feeling it this time.  I watch some TV and head to bed relatively early.  As I’m taking the dogs out for the last time tonight, I break down in tears.  I’m sick of being without Shayna.  I’m sick of signs. I wish I could actually see her again. Just once, just for a moment.  Let me hold her and know she’s here.  I feel that she’s right here with me.  I know she’s watching over us.  Why can’t she just show herself? Why can’t she break through? Why can’t I?

I get myself together, come back into the house, take the dogs upstairs, and I start getting ready for bed.  Again, here come the tears. I think maybe if she sees my desperation, she will come through. I’ve been trying to explain to my friend why she’s not getting the signs she wants and I’m telling her to be patient, but I’m not taking my own advice.  I crawl into bed and I get that feeling I used to get when I was a five-year-old kid lying in my bed.  I would beg God to show Himself.  “Come on. I know you’re there. I know you have to exist.  They tell me you love me.  Just for me. Just this one time.  Show me.“  I think of my friend Roberta. She got to see “the light” twice.  She didn’t “see the light” figuratively. She saw a physical white light and heard a voice telling her God was there.  It changed her life.  Why can’t we all get that?

I fall asleep thinking of Shayna and hoping maybe for a dream.  I’ll take a dream.  Well, as I sleep, I dream of my accountant. WTF?  Why am I dreaming about Dave? Well, taxes are due. It’s October. I’ve put off last year’s taxes to the last possible day.  In my dream, he’s explaining why I’m actually ahead financially because of this. Whatever, Dave.  You’re not the person I was hoping to see during my astral travels.

As I awake it hits me.  It the fourth wall.  In a production, the fourth wall is inviolate. The characters on the stage do not acknowledge the audience ’s existence. The characters cannot perceive the audience. They don’t even know there is a playwright.  Of course, the actors playing the roles know there is an audience. They can hear and see the audience. They can remember their lives apart from the production they happen to find themselves in. But, the characters, that would be our individual personalities in these bodies,  don’t even know they are being played by actors, don’t know they’re merely on stage and cannot see the audience. The actor is our soul, our higher self, the one who splits into these different incarnations we call lives.  When one of us is written out of the play or the movie, the other characters experience a very real loss. What they don’t know is the actor has merely completed his role and is resting comfortably back at home, watching the production as the other characters complete the story.

This morning as I rise, the words of Rush come to me.

Living on a lighted stage
Approaches the unreal
For those who think and feel
In touch with some reality
Beyond the gilded cage
Cast in this unlikely role
Ill-equipped to act
With insufficient tact
One must put up barriers
To keep oneself intact
All the world’s indeed a stage
And we are merely players
Performers and portrayers
Each another’s audience
Outside the gilded cage

Living in the limelight
The universal dream
For those who wish to seem
Those who wish to be
Must put aside the alienation
Get on with the fascination
The real relation

The underlying theme

 

Back on stage….

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