“It wasn’t my intention to leave like I did,” Janis was lying on her side in the sand looking out at the lake. She and I had been rolling and rolling in the sand. Her hair was everywhere, gritty with sand but she, of course, didn’t care, nor did I at this point. When I first met her, I didn’t realize she was Janis Joplin, “the” Janis Joplin.
She simply appeared to be one of the lost ones, roaming around near the water like so many others: running, laughing, crying, lying still in a fetal position, spacing off like she was viewing something important off in the distance. I usually ignore the lost ones when I take my jog along the shore. Most don’t even see me, and I am typically more focused on the rhythm of the waves and the glare of the sun. That was why I focused on Janis, as I saw her one day with her eyes closed, listening for the sound of the waves. I had to stop and see if she would chat a little. I wasn’t surprised when she didn’t acknowledge my presence, but there was something about her that captivated me.
I developed the habit of sitting with her every morning, choosing to take a break from my jog whenever I spotted her. I like to think that I tamed her, in the “Little Prince and the fox” sense.
Then one day she looked up and I thought she saw me. There was the slightest suggestion of a smile on her face, then she shut down again. But it gave me hope. After several more “days” she did it again, and this time she looked into my eyes, then jumped back, afraid. How could I possibly have recognized her at that point? I had come to believe that Janis Joplin would be afraid of nothing. She certainly hadn’t shown it in public during her short lifetime.
Changes, once they start, tend to accelerate rather quickly in this place. The next important development occurred when she began to take more of an interest in the space around us. She started nodding her head with the rhythm of the waves. Then one day, all of sudden, she jumped up and started dancing. We still had not exchanged a word. Of course I jumped up also and danced. I didn’t touch her. We each danced alone, but near each other. Parallel play is what they call it at Head Start. I must say it was elating, a thrill, a rush that is difficult to describe in words. “Wally and Janis, parallel dancing,” – perhaps a good title for a blog entry?
O.K. back to the moment after the sand rolling. These were her first words, “It wasn’t my intention to leave like I did.” It was at that moment that I recognized her. “Janis? Janis Joplin?” I asked and felt foolish, presuming that somehow I knew her when she was alive. “That’s me,” she said, and jumped up and started running along the beach. Of course I chased her, and when I caught up with her, we rolled in the sand again. We still had never touched each other.
I was eager to hear more. There were so many questions I wanted to ask. Instead, I shared, telling her how important her music had been to me, how her passion, her sassiness and courage inspired me and so many others. She listened carefully, laughing quietly. “The memory is there, but so far away. Why should that be important now?” She was so serious all of a sudden.
Lying is not really an option for me in this place, so I didn’t answer immediately. “I looked up to you because you were free,” I muttered.
“I thought I was free,” she spoke clearly and exactly, “but I let the alcohol and heroine control me, mostly the alcohol.”
“What the hell am I doing here?” She was intent and persistent, poking me in the chest, which was our first physical contact.
It was my turn to smile, and she understood that she had chosen this place, and now that she was aware, she could do whatever she wanted to do. She also, for the first time, realized that I was still alive, on Earth, embodied.
“Maybe I’ll come back,” she said, “or maybe not.” She gave me a sweet kiss on the cheek, bent her knees, and flew away, like Neo in Matrix, or Superman. I waved, and continued my jog, tears flowing down my cheeks.
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Some of you may remember an old Wally Nut blog on blogspot. It was called Grandfather Tree and the URL is grandfathertree dot blogspot dot com. Well, that was 2008 and this, as far as I can tell, is 2011. So much has happened and is happening. In this new blog, I plan to describe a different process, that which is occurring in and around Wally in other dimensions. This is not for the feint of heart, nor will it always make sense in this 3D world. So be it. Enjoy or don't read. And many blessings to all beings here and there and elsewhere.




