Saving Gracie Part 26

Angela turned to her laptop and with swift, accurate moves found a media scenario. She swiveled the small computer around. "Example...let's take this person here."

Quinlan viewed a man slumped deep in a recliner, the remote white-knuckled in his hand. From another room she could hear a female crying. "Who's that?"

"His wife," Angela said.

The man flipped through channels with eyes cold, hard and flinty.

"Why's he mad?"

"An argument." Angela continued. "They do that a lot. She gets upset, he gets angry." Pause. "Look."

The man's channel surfing landed on an oldies reunion of the Country Music Channel.

"He hates country music," Angela explained. "But watch."

The music video playing was from the early 90's. The signature box in the lower corner of the screen showed the name of the group.

"Who the h.e.l.l is Diamond Rio?" Through a focused stare, he aimed the remote at the television. For whatever reason, he lowered his pointed arm.

"Why didn't he change it?" Quinlan asked.

Angela nodded toward the video.

I'd start walking your way You'd start walking mine.

We'd meet in the middle 'Neath that old Georgia pine.

We'd gain a lot of ground Cause we'd both give a little.

There ain't no road too long When we meet...in the middle.

The man's stare softened. He rubbed his eyes, then his face. He blew out a motorboat sigh and loosened the grip on the remote. Kicking down the recliner footrest, he walked to the other room.

"Hey, honey...."

Angela sat back in her chair. "See? Power of suggestion. With a little a.s.sistance from us, the remote lands on a particular channel. What he does with the information is up to him. In this case, he chose to act on the suggestion. It's his free will."

Quinlan remained silent.

Angela leaned forward, her forearms resting on the desk. "You have heard of free will, haven't you?"

"Well, of course I have." Quinlan crossed her arms.

Angela raised her eyebrows then dropped them to their normal arch. "I look at different mediums as messengers of thoughts, words or ideas we can offer."

I wonder what Gracie's doing? Quinlan thought.

"h.e.l.lo?" Angela waved a hand. "The song on the CMC?"

Quinlan snapped back. "Sorry. The song and the remote. Got it."

"There's one very important rule." Angela pointed a slender finger at Quinlan's notepad. "This one I suggest you write down." She paused while Quinlan clicked her pen.

"We do not-I repeat, do not-force, control, or coerce."

Quinlan scribbled the words. "Got it."

"Good. Let's move on. In the last scenario, we covered two mediums, media and songs."

"Can we do inspired thoughts now?" Quinlan perked up, feeling more knowledgeable about making suggestions for others.

Angela rolled her eyes. "If you insist."

Quinlan sat up straight, her eyes bright. "Good."

"Pay attention." Angela cleared her throat. "Okay, think back on a time when you came up with a great idea...completely brilliant. Or maybe...you suddenly remembered where to look for something you had misplaced."

She scoured the corners of her mind. In less than a minute her eyes widened. "When I worked in the attendance office I thought of a great incentive to help the office workers complete their homework. The idea just popped into my head." She snapped her fingers. "Just like that. I got a special award for that one." Quinlan puffed out her chest. "And then...." she studied the ceiling. "Let's see. I used to make these adorable macrame snowflakes for Christmas ornaments. Everyone loved them."

Angela used her index finger motioning a forward circle like a hamster wheel.

"Well, I lost the d.a.m.n...darn pattern instructions. I looked everywhere...in drawers, my sewing box, the-"

"Does this story have an end?" Angela tapped her fingernails on the desk.

Quinlan sunk back in her chair. "Yes."

"Can I hear it?"

Feeling she'd had her hand slapped, Quinlan sucked in her cheeks. "One morning when I was getting dressed, I suddenly remembered an old shoe box on the top shelf of my closet."

"Let me guess. You found the pattern instructions."

Quinlan raised her chin. "Yes."

"Okay." Angela leaned forward, ready to proceed. "The idea for helping the kids and suddenly remembering the old shoe box...you think you had this remarkable insight all by yourself?"

The words sounded harsh but Angela's tone wasn't.

The implication sank in. "I didn't?"

"You could have, it's not unheard of." Pause. "But there are so many on this side here to a.s.sist." Quinlan's expression was puzzled. Angela rubbed her forehead. "Okay, let's break it down. Who taught you to make the snowflakes?"

"My mother-in-law," Quinlan said. "She was much more of a mother to me than...." Quinlan's eyes plunged. "We were very close."

"And she's crossed over, I imagine," Angela said.

"Yes."

"When someone crosses over, their energy frequency heightens and they're able to a.s.sist by sending suggestions or messages." Angela eyed Quinlan carefully. "Your mother-in-law could very possibly have helped you find your missing snowflake instructions that day. That's how it works. Usually, that is."

Quinlan remembered her botched attempts with the How We Connect exercises. She certainly didn't have the hang of that down, but what if her mother-in-law helped her find the missing instructions? That she found comforting. Learning she may not be as brilliant as she thought-not so comforting. "You said usually?"

"Yeah, usually. Unless that someone gets bogged down in their own...how should I say...horse manure." Angela's eyes narrowed. "Are you with me?"

"Sure. Horse manure...go ahead." Quinlan ma.s.saged her temples. A headache threatened.

"Our thoughts and inspirations can mix with those on Earth, which means our thoughts can be transformed into their thoughts." Angela paused. "It's like divine breath. Many times one receives a.s.sistance from others on this side, only they think it's all their idea. On Earth, humans call it inspiration, much like the man deciding to talk to his wife. We offer the suggestion or message. He thinks it's his idea."

"So...we don't get any credit?"

"That's not the point."

"I see." Although Quinlan didn't.

"On a slightly different note," Angela said. "Have you ever heard of the Rule of Six?"

"No." Quinlan fought the urge to pull out her emery board and file her nails. "Don't think so."

"It explains how humans form thoughts, opinions and perceptions of right and wrong." Angela pointed a slim, well-manicured finger at Quinlan. "This is important, listen carefully. Humans have a natural ability to believe their own plausible explanations as absolute truths. They confuse truths with opinions. What may be true for one, may not be true for another. Am I going too fast?"

Quinlan's eyebrows came together.

"Lost?"

She nodded like a bobble head.

"Not surprised," Angela responded. "There's often trouble with this concept."

"So, are you saying the truth may not be the truth?" And can boredom cause headaches?

"I'm saying that looking at other explanations of a situation allows the mind and heart to open to other possibilities."

"I see."

"Really?" Angela asked. "Because you keep saying that."

Quinlan shrugged.

Angela continued. "We offer humans the chance to view situations with a more open mind. As I said, we offer, not force. The hope is to help with more understanding and less judgment. Here's an example." Angela leaned back again in her chair. "Try this out. Suppose a teenage girl walks in the house after school. Her mother casually asks, 'How was your day?' The teenager explodes and says very hurtful, hateful things to her mother." Angela paused. "Why do you think she responded that way? Come on, first thing that comes to mind."

"She's disrespectful," Quinlan shot back, her boredom pushed aside for the moment. She could spot disrespect at thirty paces: no need thinking twice about that one.

"Okay, that's one. What's another?"

"What do you mean?"

"Another reason why she may have reacted like that."

Quinlan pushed out her lower lip, thinking. A long moment pa.s.sed. "Maybe...she got a bad grade on a test?"

"Good. What else?"

"She had an argument with her girlfriend?" Quinlan's posture straightened.

"Possibly."

"Her boyfriend?" Quinlan leaned forward.

"Perhaps." Angela seemed relieved. "You're getting the picture."

"Or maybe she left her English book at school and can't do her homework."

Angela's hand went up. "Hold on, that's enough."

"But I'm just getting started." Quinlan's eyes rounded, her mind seesawing to alert status again. "There could be a dozen reasons."

"Good. Remember that. Now let's get back to your first response." Angela cleared her throat. "At first, you were sure the teenager was being disrespectful to her mother."

"Yes." Quinlan drew out the reply.

"But once you expanded your thought process, your heart kicked in and allowed you to consider other possibilities. There are usually many explanations why something is the way it appears." Angela brushed a wavy curl out of her face. "But often humans get stuck in their own thought patterns and only see things one way." Angela paused and looked at Quinlan.

Quinlan watched Angela watching her.

"Follow me?"

She felt dumb, and she hated feeling dumb. Her hard-drive timed out. She had followed Angela with the teenager example, but got bogged down around stuck and thought patterns.

"Anyway, my point is, the power of suggestion is like twisting a kaleidoscope. Each turn presents a different view of a situation. The Rule of Six can be extremely helpful when we offer suggestions and messages."

A few dots connected, but Quinlan couldn't see how any of this could help her deal with Gracie.

"Hey! Are you with me?"

"What? Yes. Of course." I so want to be somewhere else. Maybe at Angela's with a nice Chardonnay. "I think I've got this. Can I lie down for a bit?"

"Trying to avoid the lesson?"

"No, not at all. I've just got a headache." An itty, bitty one...not a complete lie.

"Okay. I'll cut you some slack. Meet me here at ten o'clock in the morning. Tomorrow we'll go through the other mediums."

Quinlan waved and headed to her living quarters. Only a couple more days and she'd be finished with Angela. And on to Gracie.