Rebel with No Cause....

Janet woke to the pre-dawn, waiting for sunrise. She had planned the perfect day ahead. She could hear her husband snoring in his own room, sleeping like a baby, or like husbands do. She listened, she did not hear a peep from her grandson, Andrew. Janet was well aware that she was no spring chicken, but she loved the mystique of the darkened hush, cozy in her bed.

Janet's brain loved this peaceful habit of wandering back to her younger years. Once, a platonic male friend had been sipping some bevvy at a party, and suggested they go astral travelling. That was quite a little conversation!

Janet had taken this in her stride, and said, "Okay, I am listening..."She regarded him as a wise old soul. As the mentor, he guided her in visualizing a silver cord attached to her middle, emanating from under her heart. Her soul's essence had floated upwards. She was attached to her silver cord.

Together, but apart, Janet learnt to ascend to the ceiling, then turned around, looking at her bodily bits, still seated. Then they were off to the universe, through the roof space, on a trip. The pair of astral travelers passed by each level of the atmosphere, gazing down at their beautiful planet. It was part in shadows, part in light, as the sun chased their signature moon around the planet.

Janet and her mentor sailed silently beyond the solar system, saw the glitter of the stars in the Milky Way, timeless experience. They heard the interstellar songs, awed by a series of spiral nebulae, fascinating. The entire universe kept expanding, they journeyed into deep space, dark, cool, enchanting.

The inter-planet gypsies were projecting through the brainwaves of their own third eye, embedded in their souls, center of all their psychic energy. Floating, her mentor showed Janet how to seamlessly climb back down her silver cord, projecting calmly, "I can do this now..." Janet thought.

It was all very relaxing, a totally awesome and inspiring experience, quite a lovely trip. Their path in life drifted apart, but Janet never forgot her mentor. This particular pre-dawn, when all was dark and silent, was her perfect free time, to practice. She often wondered what had become of her mentor, he had provided her with some unique processes, reasons to smile, still believing that no one ever woke truly alone.

Janet wondered if she could ever thank her mentor enough. Maybe he had forgotten the whole thing, or perhaps he had taken all the girls astral travelling. Jung would have been proud! For a while, they had been part of the great collective, two brains together, in a meld.

She lay there in bed, contemplating the day ahead. Her husband would be off to golf, an awakening day. Her grandson would enjoy a beautiful day of playing with Janet, she could shower him with fun and treats, cooking smiles. Janet would tidy the day room, wiping all surfaces till sparkling, resolving to be bright and chirpy. Just like her free wild birds she fed in the morning, best bird seed. She acquired a collection of fat doves, gathering round.

"Nothing to worry about," she told herself. So, in silence, she contemplated the universe, gazing again at infinity, eternity. It was still quite a trip. This was her personal little quiet secret, her very human soul had no barriers. At the start and end of each day, Janet said her prayer to the great divine, that everything was quite okay. Like a star trekker, she could unleash her soul, any time she wished.

Whatever everyone else was whinging about, Janet was known to stay calm, no spring chicken any more. She was built for comfort, not for speed, contemplating mystique. Sometimes, she ruminated, then put negativity down to experience. She had long ago realized that there was no use in whinging, as she drifted off before each dawn, wandering through intergalactic mysteries, but never, ever alone.

Then she heard her grandson. "Grandma, Grandma, need a drink!" Janet went climbing down her astral cord, back to her real world. Trying not to wake up the darkened household of her ageing husband, still sleeping like a baby, and her pets, she ventured to the guest bedroom.

Janet did not turn on the light, big mistake. Andrew had brought over some of his toy stash to play with in the family room, all his favorites. Grandma had wearily picked up all the toys, placing them in the toy box, before collapsing exhausted, after she had finally got her really energetic grandson into his own bed for the night.

Janet, our rebel with no cause, at this pre-dawn sensitive hour of 4:32 am, heard Andrew again. "Grandma, Grandma, come quick!:

She had no time to put on her slippers. You guessed it, there was one sneaky, destructive, damaging plastic piece of Lego, waiting in the dark, lurking hidden in Janet's slightly messy day room carpet.

Sheer hell. Janet trod on Lego in her bare feet. It had been waiting, just for Grandma! This plastic was not quite so fantastic. So much for not waking everyone up. True pain emanated from this crippling trip across the house. Despite her serene endeavors for best intentions, Janet let it rip, as unexpected foul language emerged from her wise old lips.

Why didn't her husband wake up to answer these nightly summons? He never had, let's face it. Janet suddenly giggled, she could hear her grandson practicing his newly acquired ripe swear words. Yes, Grandma Janet had taught him well, his first bad language .She could just imagine the look on his parent police, when he suddenly let it all rip.

Great, great, Janet, great, that was quite a little trip. She wondered if she could bribe Andrew not to practice any more such ripe vocabulary. "That is what Grandma's are for," she told herself, "we must educate our family tapestry, and bridge the generations.No use whinging now. In the big term picture of the universal energy, it really does not matter."

Still limping, she had fed everyone their breakfast. Her husband disappeared to the golf course, she was used to him now. Andrew and lethal Lego were collected by his parents, he had been wanting to go home early. Her pets and doves all got fed, time to tidy up, was that her cause?

My goodness, her foot was sore. So Janet, having the glory of free time, headed off to bed, her comfort zone. Like a chubby little Hobbit, she made herself second breakfast, and resumed the mystique of astral travelling, gliding by. Housework would always wait, it is there, okay. Her poor foot throbbed, it was only a mortal distraction. Now she would have crumbs in her bed, quite mystical really, for folk who are no longer spring chickens, with no cause. Oh, perfect day!