a manifestation of a deity or released soul in bodily form on earth; an incarnate divine teacher.
I met my husband when he was 47 and I was 43.
To say I kissed a lot of frogs along the way is an understatement!
Since he’s French, there’s also a certain irony there.
On paper I looked uber normal.
I had a great job,
a relatively “normal” family,
lots of good friends,
And two Siamese cats, Fraidy & Teddy.
But as you all know by now, I had my dark, hidden secret.
I was a closeted seeker.
I was devoutly spiritual.
I did yoga,
I meditated twice a day,
I could have been a monk.
Well, except for the red lipstick and nail polish…oh, and the sex.
I’m pretty sure I blurted it all out on one of our early dates,
after a glass of wine,
half expecting him to excuse himself,
saying he was ” going to the restroom”
only to discover he had made a run for it!
But he didn’t.
It ends up he was a seeker as well, having worked with
a Peruvian shaman along the way, so I should have seen this coming.
For years I had sought the counsel of a channel,
a friend who had the ability to channel beings of higher wisdom.
So I invited her/them over to “meet” my new husband.
I’m not exactly sure what I expected, but what they did
was to completely ignore me,
and practically fall all over themselves,
calling him “Great Avatar”!
Then they explained that I am the “consort” to this great being.
Like the Cleopatra to his Marc Anthony?
More like the Robin to his Batman.
The Kato to his Green Hornet.
The Heckle to his Jeckle.
Well, not exactly.
He is my teacher.
I am grasshopper.
It just happened for the gazillionth time on Christmas Eve day.
He told me the story that night, on our way to dinner.
He is a typical man in the sense that he waits until
3pm on the 24th to start his shopping.
So…he’s navigating an overcrowded parking lot,
and he’s hungry.
You get the picture.
He finally sees a car ready to pull out of a space,
so he positions himself, left blinker on,
And waits…and waits…while the person sloooooowy backs out.
Meanwhile, on the other side of them is a little pickup truck
that has the same idea.
My husband sees what’s up, and aggressively blocks the spot with his
black Porsche, and then pulls in.
(Don’t judge, just because it’s a Porsche and a pickup truck, just don’t)!
As the pickup truck drives off, he makes eye contact, and flips my husband the middle finger.
That stuff rolls off my husband…he’s French, remember?
But it’s Christmas Eve for cryin out loud!
He walks in to get a quick burger, and realizes while he’s eating,
that middle finger, pickup truck guy is eating with some friends a few tables over.
So he gets out a pen and writes a note on a napkin.
He then attaches $20 and hands it to the waitress to deliver to the guy,
The notes says:
Even though you flipped me the bird,
It’s Christmas Eve.
your lunch is on me.
The black Porsche.
As he glanced back, while walking away, he sees the guy showing the note to his buddies and
looking around the cafe.
He’s my hero.
He’s my teacher
He really is an Avatar.
It is an honor to be his consort.