The Veil is Thin Sometimes

Two days ago I went to see a doctor. Nothing unusual about that. I first went to him a few months ago because my thyroid numbers were off and I started taking a small tablet every day. Still nothing unusual. Except at our first meeting, I must have said something that clued him in. Clued him that my way of seeing was unusual. I don’t recall mentioning much. Except growing up here and my first marriage to an Alaskan Native. Sharing that living in Alaska helped a lot to alter my way of seeing.

Well, this recent appointment was enlightening for both of us.

After the medical concerns attended to, I asked him where he grew up. He said Holland. Then asked where I went to school here. He’d somehow remembered I was from here. Then he asks me. “Do you recall Fred Bertch? He was my grandfather.” Yes, he was my math teacher. What a pleasant surprise.

Now before this, I’d brought with me a shell to give him. And I also had brought an Altoid tin with my clay in it. I planned to show him how I made the shells. Finding myself sharing about Unity in Diversity. My doctor caught on right away. We both knew his grandfather would love these shells and the wisdom they could teach.

With everything so dis-unified here in America, we agreed how much people need to grasp seeing this concept of unity in diversity taught through art.

Then he said to me, “What you’re teaching with this clay, making these shells to express this idea, it needs to be known nationally.

I’ve heard this before. I remember Virginia Ferris, a close friend, saying something similar. “You’re famous, but people just don’t know that!” Something I’ve known for a long time. So their words are heard by a prepared psyche.

Myself in that same yearbook, 1960

It was as if the words we spoke were directed. In such a way, that we were actually the ones hearing ourselves. Our inner selves revealing themselves.

The veil between the physical and spiritual is so thin sometimes. For a few minutes this veil was lifted.

I told him I’d write this for my website. I told him I wouldn’t use his name. But he said, no. Use my name if you want. He so realized as I do right now as I write this, the need to say it.

These shells I form are so ready to teach whoever will listen. The Great Mystery has designed our world in a special way. Diverse ways meant to come together in order to find solutions. By uniting in such a way, that their diversity stays intact.

I know this probably doesn’t make much sense. Things like this are next to impossible to

express with words. Maybe as it should be. But I’ll close with this thought.

Take notice of conversations you have with others. Aware that once in while the veil will lift like a mist. For a brief time. And leave you too in this place. How am I to write this in words?

Pink Eagle (Annie Olson)