24 - A Puzzled Master Of My Universe

My crazy South African friend, John Doolan, would say that I'm being melancholy (shaped like a melon and looking like a collie) and he may well be right. However, I don't feel melancholy - just puzzled at how God/the universe works.

You see, we have studied The Secret and A Course in Miracles and they both tell us that whatever is in our lives is there because we called it up … sang it up, as the Aborigines would say. When I found all that out I was ecstatic, realising I was Master of My Universe (MOMU) and I could create any kind of life I wanted. What I don't understand is how I called up our current situation …

Since realising I'm MOMU, I do not, just do not, ever, remember waking up one morning, saying, "Woopee! I'm MOMU and what I now want is a dose of homelessness, unemployment, broken car and no income … yep, that's JUST what I want, thanks God. Give it to me now … all at once!"

I've got it and I really don't remember asking for it in any way that I'm conscious of. So my question to God, the universe or any other intelligent life-force, how did I attract this and how can I attract the opposite? The line is open and answers are readily welcomed … right now would be good, thanks.

Now we return to the story of Arthur Bayly and Mary Collins returns, after yesterday's blog ...

Martin and the children had popped in after school. It was most unusual but lovely to see them. And Martin seemed to be needing more contact with them at the moment.

The telephone cut across their conversation with its electronic insistence and the three adults looked at each other in mute surprise, as if insulted that the outside world should interrupt them … surprised, even, to be reminded that another world existed outside their several dramas. Children react quicker, in the moment, having less history to drag along with them and so Timothy found himself bounding, like a gazelle, out the door and into the dining room, to answer the phone.

"Hello, Timothy here," he said as he had been taught. He was soon back in the lounge, sipping on his drink.

"Timothy, who was that on the phone?" asked Martin, the first to arouse himself.

"Oh, it was a wrong number," said Timothy, importantly, "they wanted Arthur Bayly and so I said he didn't live here."

"Ah, Timothy," said Arthur, "I'm Arthur Bayly."

"But you're Grandad," said Timothy, confused.

"Timothy!" said Martin, in irritation, "you don't answer other peoples' phones. Haven't I told you that before! It's not your property so leave well alone."

Timothy began to sob and Joan picked him up and held him on her knee. "Would you like another piece of cake, dear? And Kate?" Timothy hopped down and he and his sister leaped upon the sponge cake with enthusiasm.
"Hey, you two!" said Martin, his voice steadily rising, "put that down, now, you know better than to scoff it down like yobbos!"

The children stopped, stunned, with cake and cream on their faces and hands, looking guilty and confused.

"Put it down, now!" yelled Martin, going quite red. "Now go and wash yourselves up. You know better than that, don't you!"

"Come on, dears," said Joan cheerfully, "let's get your faces sparkling clean, shall we?" The children followed meekly, furtively looking back at their father.

As they walked out the phone sounded again and Timothy leaped forward, unable to resist his instinctive fight or flight reaction to the phone.

"Timothy! Stop!" yelled Martin, leaping up. "I told you to leave the phone!"

"It's alright Martin," said Arthur, getting up and striding across the room and out to the phone. He patted Timothy on the head as he passed. "You'll make someone a grand secretary one day, won't you?" he said, smiling down at the boy.

Timothy went red and smiled, embarrassment mixed with gratitude all over his face, as Arthur picked up the phone.

"Good morning, Arthur speaking."

"Ah, Arthur, I thought I might have a wrong number," came the unmistakable voice of Mary Collins. AIL Insurance seemed such a long way off, now, almost off the new map his life was drawing.

"No, it was my grandson, Timothy ..."

"Yes, well, good to talk to you, Arthur," said Mary. "I heard you've had a bereavement. Are you OK?"

"Oh, yes, well, we've had a few things happen and ..."

"Yes, yes, OK, I'm sure it's been a particularly trying time, then," said Mary, bulldozing through the conversation as usual. "Now, Arthur, there has been … ah, a new development with that Atkinson case you were working on and we'd like, ah, we wondered if you'd like to give us a little more help with clearing up the loose ends. You've got such a lot of experience in that area."

"Oh, well, I thought I was off the case," said Arthur, tentatively, unsure of his position now.

"Yes, well, we just thought you might like to come in for a short while," said Mary with unaccustomed reserve, "just tidy up some things."

"But you said there were others who would be able to take over the Atkinson case ..."

"Well, yes, there could be," said Mary, "but with the reorganisation … and you do, of course, have such a lot of experience in this area."

"There's been a reorganisation since I left yesterday?" asked Arthur, trying to imagine what trauma had happened in one afternoon to leave them with no one to complete the Atkinson case. "There wasn't any great hurry for that case, was there?"

"No, there isn't … wasn't," said Mary. "But some new developments have occurred and, with your specialist knowledge, we thought it might be expedited with your valuable input." Arthur had never before heard so many compliments from Mary.

"So, has it become urgent, now?" asked Arthur, trying to understand what had happened in half a day.

"Look Arthur, we can explain it all when you get in here," said Mary, her voice rising a semitone. "If it's easier, we're happy for you to work from home."

"Well, I'm not sure, Mary, we've had a few upsets over the last little while and I'll need time to think about it - to talk about it with Joan." said Arthur.

"Look, Arthur, we can make a special reimbursement, a special rate for this assignment, we can put you on contract … whatever is best for you," said Mary, sweetening the incentive.

"Yes, yes, I appreciate that, thank you," said Arthur, trying to absorb and understand the new developments. "But things are quite … ah, quite tender here and I do need to talk to my wife about this. When would you like me to start?"

"Well, this afternoon would be great," said Mary, anticipating some progress. "We thought that £60 an hour would be a fair recompense."

"Gosh, that soon!" said Arthur, remembering that she'd said something about 'no problem at all' a minute ago and that £60 an hour was treble the wage he had previously been on. "Yes, well, I'll talk to my wife and ring you back."

"Well, please do, Arthur, yes, please do," said Mary, speaking as if she was unable to breathe. "Now do you have a pen and paper there, Arthur?"

"Ah, yes ..."