My Mentor

My Mentor
by D. L. Jones
from the City of Souls

There is someone with me from time to time. I think all us have someone with them although most don’t realize it. They help through the hardest parts of our lives. They help us to reconcile to real life. There will be some point in everyone’s life when they realize they will die. It usually is triggered by the death of a loved one either friend or family. Oh we miss them too, because they were a part of our life, but at one point we realize “I will die”. Our friends with us help us through these times. It could even be as small as not understanding how a friend could treat us so poorly. I was listening to an interview with a dream expert, once, and I remember him saying to think of a dream like your subconscious is consoling your unconscious. I think it is someone consoling us I think it is our friend, and I also believe everyone has one. I call my friend, “My Mentor.”

I first met him when I was twelve years old. While I was setting up an irrigation system I touched one of the aluminum pipes to an overhead electric line. I found myself, bodiless in a dark place. I knew I had died, I knew it a second after the pipe started to vibrate. I just couldn’t let go of the pipe fast enough. So there I was floating bodiless in a dark place. That was when I heard someone call out to me, and, then, there was light. What he said to me when he called out was simple. It was just three words, the words were, “You’re back already?” In those three words were the feelings of a long association, of a friendship, of camaraderie, but what also was there was information about where I have been and why.

I wanted to find the one who had called out to me, and so I moved into the light. Incredible as it sounds. I wanted to go find the person that had called out to me, and I did. No arms, no legs, I moved because I wanted to. I found him on the other side. We talked, no talked is the wrong word because it was different, besides we had no mouth, no face, and no lungs. We communicated for a while. It was a different level of communication. It was different in that when a statement was made, or a question was asked all of the lesser information that was the background for the statement was there along with the statement. Miscommunication would be impossible because we communicated in complete thoughts.

All to soon I was called back and my eyes were closed. I could not see or hear, but I could feel. I could feel someone there with me. Someone very powerful was there with me. I could feel their power. I don’t know how, but it was so prevalent that it almost felt as a physical force. Whoever was there with me exuded power, love, and compassion. All through what came next the sight of this presence remained hidden from me, later I did hear the voice later when it was addressed to me. Others came, and these others I could see, hear, and speak to them. Each of these others reviewed my life, such little as it was since I was only twelve years old.

We, the others and I, lived or relived through every moment of my life. There were milestones in my life, important milestones we all have as we grow and mature. These, they pointed out to me and reported to The Presence. It seemed strange that our personal thoughts and feelings were just as important as what we say and do, if not more so. I had not considered this because in life we never know how someone, truly, feels, or thinks. We can only deduce that from the things they say and do, but here nothing is hidden, and all is considered.

When the others were finished The Presence, finally, spoke to me. He said, “It is not, yet, time for you to pass on. You must go back and live your life. There are three reasons you must go back. You are meant to do something that you have, yet, to do. You are meant to influence someone you have not, yet, met, and you have not, yet, learned enough to accomplish the other two.” With those words spoken the others faded out.

For forty-two years nothing unusual occurred. I led a completely normal life. I never told a single person what I experienced that day.

Oh, when my Dad found me later just sitting on a bench thinking I told him about being shocked. He rushed to the doctor who examined the burns on my feet. He told Dad that I was extremely lucky because all the cases of electrocution he had ever read about when the current came in through a person’s feet, because they were grounded, and the current came in through the hands it always meets in the abdomen, and blows out there. That did not create a pretty picture in my mind. Anyway, there was nothing to do. The burns would heal without help, but he did pull my left toenail because it was ingrown. I suppose he felt he should do something for me since I was there.

I did hear or feel that voice, again. It was exactly forty-two years later again in the summer. I was in a meeting and just like no time had passed he spoke to me just as it did, then. This time he said, “Now is the time to tell your story. Tell your story, Now!” It was that Presence, exactly as I remembered it. That was all he said, he said that and he was gone. But, from that moment on until I finished writing my story I felt a push, a pressure, and a compassion for the story to be told.

© 2009, Lekatt. All rights reserved.