when i was seven i remember my father lecturing me about something i had done wrong (in his eyes), it wasn't anything major (never was) ...
this went on for what felt like eternity, he smoked as he spoke, at the time he was a hardcore chain smoker
i remember so well trancing out repeatedly, always though i kept thinking how disgusting his ashtray looked piled high from cigarette remains of the day ...
finally (and always expected) he stated that his words would conclude with a physical reprimand, i so didn't want that again, already could i feel the pain as he spoke
he got up and started walking towards me, i was once again so frightened
i remember praying for something, anything to intervene in that moment
i looked over at the ashtray, just before my father laid a hand on me i watched the ashtray move across the table a couple of feet and crash to the floor ...
my father witnessed it as well, finally he was speechless, now it was himself that was the frightened one
he smoked at least three packs a day ... up until that day
the next morning came and my father quit smoking, cold turkey, never touched another cigarette in his life again
he had never said anything about it again
and for me, from that day on, i commenced my relationship with the universe that has carried me on its shoulders through so much density ...
my life after that was never the same, i found i could trust a force that i could never see with my eyes but knew it existed within my heart ...
and we've been connected that way ever since, i could write pages
it's all about trusting
peace
