I have been having a strong notion of already getting to know this man, his daily attitude and behaviour, temperament, sense of humor, uplifting presence, knowledge and caretaking mentality, plus the sacrifices he is, in his turn, already making:
Painting the kitchen cabinets.
His insecure indecisiveness about whether to choose gold to cover the typical American pinewood doors with.
This man knows an artist who is very, VERY particular about home decoration will be living with him very soon.
Admittedly very cute, but terribly annoying.
I was laying with my head flat faced in a pillow while Rombout was sitting on top of me, and I thought:
‘Yeh. You know what?!
SURE baby, paint the fuckers gold.
For God’s sake. JEEZ!’
What to do with the decorative elements.
‘What? Do it yourself!’
Nooooooo, he wanted me to do it.
I received a mental projection of Japanese style painted branches and leafs, with colored accents in black, red and white.
I agreed it would for sure look amazing on the golden doors, and yes, I admitted I am the one who knows what she’s doing.
But you know, I was kind of in the middle of something; Rombout was now twisting my right arm in a somewhat uncomfortable position, and my shoulder cracked.
The negotiation was going so fast, I at first hardly recognised it for what it was and especially, whom with.
I was being overwhelmed with this image of very ugly kitchen cabinet doors, however, and I recognised them from the pictures I had seen on his Instagram account.
And I thought:
Usually he’d inquire first what I’m doing, who I’m with, etcetera, or he’d just drop in unannounced, out of body, la-dee-dah-dee, just like that as if it’s the natural order of things, and then just start meddling with everything as if he fucking owns the place.
But now I was just seeing those damn hideous pinewood doors with my third eye, and the issue seemed kind of very urgent:
A man in distress about what colors to pick!
It all went so fast I failed to be assertive and tell him:
‘Baby, you are disturbing just a tiny little bit because I am receiving a Shiatsu massage right here, about, – how far would it be? -, 10.000 kilometers away from you?
Could it just please wait until a somewhat more convenient moment?’.
But you know, he’d probably have said:
Because that’s what he’s like, so that wouldn’t have made any difference at all.
I gave in and said:
‘Sure. FINE! I’ll do it!’.
For crying out loud. Really.
I started laughing.
Rombout inquired what was so funny, now folding and stretching my legs, and I said I would tell him later.
I was in such a relaxed state, I figured the dialogue was not just something coming from my wishful imagination.
And I am used to these mental projections coming in so strong from or enhanced by Spirit communication, so I thought it must had been real.
Reinvigorated by Rombout’s massage I was afterwards lying on the couch, letting what I had experienced sink in.
I giggled joyfully amused and felt humorously irritated, and I considered taking repercussions.
A shaman woman’s gotta do what a shaman woman’s gotta do!
I told Rombout about my experience, and his first response to that was concern, to which he added this wasn’t good for me at all.
But when I told him about my naughty little plan he immediately started laughing out loud and said:
‘Good idea. Go on then.’
For quite a long time I had been simply frightened of even thinking about visiting his Instagram profile again, but now I felt more than a hundred percent confident, and challenged to the max.
I thought about it for an extra thirty seconds, then took a deep breath, and went for it.
I had to unblock him first, then I sent the following message:
‘Could you please do me a favor and make up your own goddamn mind about the color of your kitchen cabinets?
I was just receiving a good relaxing massage’.
After, I blocked him again, and tested with Rombout’s phone if people still receive your messages if you block them.
And so, there you go, I just broke the mold by solving an average daily domestic issue, partially telepathically through the spiritual ether, partially through our so beloved convenience of social media texting.
A harmless leap of faith this time. Phew.
Main reason for blocking him is that, even if he would respond to my text, I don’t want to be communicating online with him anymore;
I am so done with it.
I want him on my doorstep, for real, and nothing else.
My self respect and borders as a woman are overruling my longing for acknowledgement of and proof for my ideas about what’s going on, for that matter.
And just now, the morning after, I was contemplating my optimism, faith and loyalty, and I have to admit I am awfully amazed with myself, with how I am expressing such strong motivations by my seemingly premature, however clearcut, decision making and open communication.
Because here’s a woman who has made up her mind, – a year ago already! -, and nothing, absolutely nothing, has changed in that.
For my willingness to live by the principles of unconditional love and trust in Spirit guidance, for believing in love at first sight and taking responsibility and action out of sheer enthusiasm, I have asked myself so many times during these past twelve months:
‘Am I weird for being this way?’.
To which I received a straight up, blunt answer this morning:
‘What makes YOU so goddamn unique?’.
And I imagine this kind of rejoinder to be coming straight from him.
And while I was just smoking my tobacco roll up I thought:
‘He is so right’.
And I am positive we would both agree on the idea that this is exactly what we would both describe as ‘God in ourselves’, that’s giving us the power, courage and strength to go about our lives in such a manner.