Hello. I write to you today next to my mother’s bedside, in the Emergency Room. Time is passing. I don’t even know how to start, so I start like this. What a 24 hours it has been. I have so many stories to tell but I don’t know where to begin.

Last night I lost consciousness. It was the second time in a week. Should I be concerned? I would think so if I weren’t also having such intense spiritual experiences hand-in-hand with these losses of consciousness. I honestly think it’s all meant to be like this, and I’m just glad I didn’t hit my head, as I definitely don’t need to add that to the mix. Blacked out, though. I was gone gone gone, into another dimension. Left this realm and went into another dimension, for real. See, if you start to tap into the spirit world, or whatever you want to call it, you can’t just tap out. Maybe God can give you a rest, and for the love of all things holy could it be today?? I am so very grateful, and so very tired. So very, very tired. So much has happened, so many miracles, so many angels, but I am so very, very tired.

I told mom last night that these 24 hours would be key. Just hold on, I said, and you’ll make it through, but you’ve got to fight. The devil came a knocking last night and we said, no Satan, not today!

So many things, everything all at once, and angels everywhere. André, the maintenance man, who is also an artist, told me just to park the car inside the basement garage, just all the way up to the entrance, to the left, next to the boxes. Thank you so much, I said, as I was really just needing to control what I could control by knowing the car was inside and not going to get broken into. The jury is still out on whether or not it’s safe to park your car on the street in Oakland, but I’m cautious. Why the fuck not? Prepare for the worst and hope for the best. Why not, nothing to lose, hey?

Anyway, this is halfway through the story this happens, after absolutely joking with the med-techs and the carers that the evening was still young, it was Chinese New Year, which explained the background fireworks earlier on. I don’t even remember what happened first, but I’m sure I’ll remember soon, as my brain and next level self slowly make friends. Slowly but surely I will integrate what I’ve been learning on this journey, this recent path, in this distant place, distant time from my life at home. Peace and ease is all I ask for now, for all of us, everywhere.

Here I am, listening to Arlo Guthrie with my mom in bed and with Betty dancing, in the hospital, shaking out the weird feelings cause if you don’t they just stay in, as I write. Why not? All we have is this moment, and as sit here and write, my mom smiles the biggest damn smile that she could ever smile and rocks out, singing alone, and just as Arlo says to join in singing, mom says the same to anyone who’s listening. This is where I get it from, my sense of inclusion. It’s from her. Just wants everyone to feel loved, included. It’s crazy how dissonant our desires can be from our actions, if we aren’t in tune with ourselves. It’s so easy to just act from where we are, in our systems of behaviour, with no awareness of how our behaviours effect other people. Damaging others as we had been damaged, unawares of so much.

Camille and I were discussing the plan for the evening, and we stepped out for a cigarette, went down to the lobby, and in the midst of our walk through the hall towards the door, we were stopped by two of the ladies working there who, in an excited panic told us that someone’s car had been broken into, in the back parking lot. Right where I was supposed to park, told by the management that downstairs was forbidden, but André had swooped in, knowing that I just needed to feel safe, and given that to me. The unfortunate car been smashed and grabbed, even under video surveillance. No shame, no fear, of being caught, stopped, or held accountable. Shit just happens, if you don’t take all of the advised precautions. You’ve got to listen to the signs, and watch out for the bullshit.

Then the helicopter came. It circled over the care home area, quieter than the ones I remember, but it has been a long time since I’ve watched one circle over head, since LA-Corona times. How differently that must read than how I intended. Corona, before it became the virus that changed the world, was the town my family lived in in California when they finally moved out of the Midwest. It was once just a small horse town surrounded by orange groves, but by the time we got there it was on its way to being a failed suburban experiment. The only thing real thing left was a small part of the original town, where the houses each had backyard pastures, hitching posts out front, and a genuine identity. The rest of the town was strip malls and superstores, a sad, tired main street long forgotten, and lots and lots of houses, all looking the same. They had proportions that weren’t quite right, but worked, and everyone with a swimming pool. After years in Ohio, living in a small town surrounded by the poverty of hopelessness of Northern Appalachia, this could be seen as bright and shiny California dream.

I didn’t love it, but I was happy to see my family coming to California. My father had been so happy to be out of there, for certain. I remember speaking to him once, catching up, when he was there first, before the family joined him, before they found the house. He was eating well and living his best life. He seemed really happy. I can still remember his smell a bit, if I really try. I spoke with Camille about this conversation too, last night, as I’ve just remembered. Pieces are coming back to me slowly.

We talked about Uncle Kimmy, a friend of my mother’s who lived in Chicago. His name was Kim, and she tried to play him off to us as Uncle Kimmy. WTF, I even thought this as a kid, in kid language. This guy was not our uncle. He was a bit weird and nerdy and quiet, like my mum. He died not too long ago, which I had to tell Camille, in the same unexpected conversation we had in which she revealed to me that he was actually mom’s unrequited love, or something. This must have added yet another layer to my state last night, another seismic shift in my reality, in my schematic of the world as I knew it, then.