Something weird happened yesterday. Office work, shopping, tidying up. You know, those weirdly 'normal boring' things.
I can't have another such a weirdly boring day again today, I thought. What on Earth will readers think? So I walked to Seaford town, consciously looking for weirdness. It's always there, somewhere.
I felt energies in five coffee bars before choosing “Cafe 7”. After all, 7 is supposed to be the number of God. Perhaps 7-God could provide some weirdness?
As I sipped a coffee, a lady opposite smiled. Here we go, I thought. She looks weirdly non-boring enough. She was about 60 years old, with haystack hair, and constant angelic smile. She looked like X-factor winner Susan Boyle, unfairly known as 'the hairy angel.'
“Do you live near here?” I asked politely.
“Eh?” she smiled.
I repeated louder, “Do you live here?”
She smiled again. “Eh?”
Oh, she's hard of hearing. Noisy coffee machines and clanking dishes being washed up didn't help. Her eggs on toast arrived. I changed the question, speaking slow and loud. “Do you have family?”
As she pierced the egg yolk, it squirted over the plate. Her smile dropped. “I've got a husband what died and a daughter what ran away. I ain't seen her since.”
Ah, I thought. Perhaps today's non-boring weirdness is, can I help her? So I asked. But she couldn't hear, just wiped squirted egg off the edge of her plate with a corner of toast.
Eventually, with a mouthful of dripping yolk, she spoke. “I lived in Leeds when the Yorkshire Ripper was ripping people,” she said. “His wife Sonia was as nutty as a fruit cake.”
Ah, here we go...perhaps here's the weirdly non-boring connection. I remember Sonia well. She was one of my students! The infamous Yorkshire Ripper, Peter Sutcliffe, murdered 13 and injured 7 more. His wife Sonia was pilloried in the press for staying faithful to him, even after divorce.
“She was Ukrainian you know. Only about 5 feet tall, you know.”
I smiled.
The lady licked yolk off her lips. “Sonia used to say to me, 'Do you know who I am?' Sonia thought you were privileged to speak to her. She thought she was the messiah.”
I smiled again.
“I told her she should move away, that one of these days she'll get punched in the mouth. Sonia's crazy. She must be crazy to still love that bastard after he murdered all those people.”
I nodded, to show interest. But that ended our one-sided conversation. She wiped the last bit of egg off her plate and mouth, paid, smiled, and left.
Memories... The Yorkshire Ripper's sister attended my Reiki course. Terribly affected by her brother's 13 murders, she cried non-stop for two days. After, she said Reiki had helped her a lot.
Months later, she introduced me to Sonia, who asked to study Reiki too. I agreed. She'd suffered terribly. Front pages of national newspapers slated her for staying loyal to her murderer ex-husband. Such 'big news' whipped the emotions of a nation against her, spitefully. Angels would not refuse to help.
Thankfully, no-one on the course recognised Sonia. I simply offered unconditional love, and the same support all students receive. She obviously needed immense emotional healing.
Self-healing and my therapies helped Sonia immensely. Weeks later she felt better. She asked to study Reiki Level 2, to learn distant healing. “I can then send Reiki to my ex-husband in Broadmoor Hospital prison from a distance,” she explained. “No-one need know.”
Sonia said the Yorkshire Ripper needed healing because first an inmate had tried to strangle him - but another convicted murderer, the “Stockwell Strangler" stopped Sutcliffe's murder. Then another prisoner attacked him with a pen, gouging out one eye, and severely damaging the other.
I immediately agreed. He was being punished in a mental hospital prison for his crimes. If she wished to help his non-crime-related suffering, why not? Angels would not refuse to help.
Memories...
It's been a weird, and certainly not a boring life.
I can't have another such a weirdly boring day again today, I thought. What on Earth will readers think? So I walked to Seaford town, consciously looking for weirdness. It's always there, somewhere.
I felt energies in five coffee bars before choosing “Cafe 7”. After all, 7 is supposed to be the number of God. Perhaps 7-God could provide some weirdness?
As I sipped a coffee, a lady opposite smiled. Here we go, I thought. She looks weirdly non-boring enough. She was about 60 years old, with haystack hair, and constant angelic smile. She looked like X-factor winner Susan Boyle, unfairly known as 'the hairy angel.'
“Do you live near here?” I asked politely.
“Eh?” she smiled.
I repeated louder, “Do you live here?”
She smiled again. “Eh?”
Oh, she's hard of hearing. Noisy coffee machines and clanking dishes being washed up didn't help. Her eggs on toast arrived. I changed the question, speaking slow and loud. “Do you have family?”
As she pierced the egg yolk, it squirted over the plate. Her smile dropped. “I've got a husband what died and a daughter what ran away. I ain't seen her since.”
Ah, I thought. Perhaps today's non-boring weirdness is, can I help her? So I asked. But she couldn't hear, just wiped squirted egg off the edge of her plate with a corner of toast.
Eventually, with a mouthful of dripping yolk, she spoke. “I lived in Leeds when the Yorkshire Ripper was ripping people,” she said. “His wife Sonia was as nutty as a fruit cake.”
Ah, here we go...perhaps here's the weirdly non-boring connection. I remember Sonia well. She was one of my students! The infamous Yorkshire Ripper, Peter Sutcliffe, murdered 13 and injured 7 more. His wife Sonia was pilloried in the press for staying faithful to him, even after divorce.
“She was Ukrainian you know. Only about 5 feet tall, you know.”
I smiled.
The lady licked yolk off her lips. “Sonia used to say to me, 'Do you know who I am?' Sonia thought you were privileged to speak to her. She thought she was the messiah.”
I smiled again.
“I told her she should move away, that one of these days she'll get punched in the mouth. Sonia's crazy. She must be crazy to still love that bastard after he murdered all those people.”
I nodded, to show interest. But that ended our one-sided conversation. She wiped the last bit of egg off her plate and mouth, paid, smiled, and left.
Memories... The Yorkshire Ripper's sister attended my Reiki course. Terribly affected by her brother's 13 murders, she cried non-stop for two days. After, she said Reiki had helped her a lot.
Months later, she introduced me to Sonia, who asked to study Reiki too. I agreed. She'd suffered terribly. Front pages of national newspapers slated her for staying loyal to her murderer ex-husband. Such 'big news' whipped the emotions of a nation against her, spitefully. Angels would not refuse to help.
Thankfully, no-one on the course recognised Sonia. I simply offered unconditional love, and the same support all students receive. She obviously needed immense emotional healing.
Self-healing and my therapies helped Sonia immensely. Weeks later she felt better. She asked to study Reiki Level 2, to learn distant healing. “I can then send Reiki to my ex-husband in Broadmoor Hospital prison from a distance,” she explained. “No-one need know.”
Sonia said the Yorkshire Ripper needed healing because first an inmate had tried to strangle him - but another convicted murderer, the “Stockwell Strangler" stopped Sutcliffe's murder. Then another prisoner attacked him with a pen, gouging out one eye, and severely damaging the other.
I immediately agreed. He was being punished in a mental hospital prison for his crimes. If she wished to help his non-crime-related suffering, why not? Angels would not refuse to help.
Memories...
It's been a weird, and certainly not a boring life.
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