Letter 11

Still Standing

February 3, 2009.

Dear Mom,

I’m a bit over-heated now from battling with parasites who don’t know how to give anything but a hard time. They have correctly guessed that I have more in my pocket than lint. Not having a job or any business to speak of, I must still abide by a policy and I have an itinerary that is unforgiving: I still need to eat, in other words.

I’m taxed as to what to do with the money you’ve blessed me with. I may not be able to say everything I want to say in this letter, but worse things have happened to me. I will probably call you later today, thereby making this letter moot.

I also want to let you know I received the package you sent with the much-appreciated clothing, etc. and I want to thank you for all of your effort and for your love.

This is just a basic, quick thank-you note to let you know things are moving in the right direction for me.

Much love, thoughts and prayers,

James

Post Script: I have had the opportunity to do a little writing and would like for you to read it. If you are able to decipher the hieroglyphics, you might find it interesting.

As I write this, whatever it is, on a rainy night in a seedy part of coastal Florida, I face a dilemma of a moral, and quite likely a legal nature, as well. This story has lain festering in me for too long.

I had a reasonable, though brief, childhood. I was at such a young age when my mom and dad divorced that I wasn’t impacted by him too much. I became introverted. I mentioned my childhood was brief because, due to circumstances or chance or whatever, I was introduced to drugs when I was seven or eight years old. I’m in my 40’s now.

I mention this time in my life because my early introduction to drugs led to a time when, at 16 years old, I was wildness personified. It is hard for me to divulge the truth, and I have not spoken to anyone about this, but the truth of the matter is that being introverted caused me to be unable to communicate effectively with anyone. My drug use/abuse continued to escalate until I was altered permanently by being on the edge of overdosing so much. I had everything I wanted, but nothing I needed, which turned me into a brilliant idiot. My mind churned, unable to focus on anything for any length of time. One day, I found a gun which belonged to my dad’s friend and I shot myself in the head. The gun was an old World War II Lugar, 9 millimeter, and I was alone in my house.

That event didn’t end my life, however. What happened next is hard to describe. I don’t recall much of what took place driving me to suicide, and I only remember odd parts of what happened afterwards. Please forgive any errors.

For a fact, my body was done. To my knowledge, I was deeply comatose, although stable, for at least a calendar year. During that time, important changes were taking place within me.

I’m unusual in that nobody could explain my return to life. Nobody, regardless of education or intelligence, was able to explain why I’m here. This leaves me with only one explanation…divine intervention. The reason I’m not writing more on this is because it is so incredible. I was there, and I have trouble believing it at times. The bottom line is I have been to hell. I knew what happened and I knew I was cut off from ever having any little bit of happiness, love, or serenity forever.

In any case, I had what I can only say was a deep, cleansing spiritual experience. I emerged from the coma, although I totally blocked out anything prior to that time.

Back to my spiritual experience. I’m in hell, grieving constantly because I know how badly I’ve screwed up. This is where things get freakish. I suddenly appear to be standing in a place where all I can see when I look around is an open field of knee-high grass with the exception of one large tree off in the distance. The word symbology usually means an idea represented by another idea, but otherwise unconnected. This word is important in understanding my history because of its biblical meaning. I don’t think most people will be able to understand the symbolism here, but I hope to be able to explain it in an acceptable way.

On some level beyond my comprehension, I become led by a combination of feeling bored and being curious. Nothing was happening where I was so I began to try to will something to happen to break the monotony. I decided to try to get another point of view from the only tree I could see. I went to the tree and started climbing it. Now I was led more by curiosity than boredom. I noticed a bird’s nest about half way up the tree and became consumed by a desire to know what was in it. I laboriously pulled myself up to where I could see into the nest and then I saw there was a baby bird alone in the nest.

When I looked at the helpless chick, flopping to and fro in the nest, I became what I saw. I felt odd when this happened but was relieved that something was going on.

Flying was impossible because I had no feathers yet and I couldn’t recall ever seeing any other living creature. Eventually I fell out of the nest, which should have resulted in certain death. I knew that if I didn’t die when I hit the ground I would surely starve or become a meal for some predator.

A hand that I now believe to be the hand of God appeared to catch me just before impact. I had never felt fear, only boredom and curiosity. Now, I was flooded with a sense of being loved…and at that point I began to come out of the coma.