The book 'Labels' is written in the first person to give insight on everyday life being a spiritual experience. At a young age Helen found she was able to communicate with different spiritual beings. She began to correlate scientific fields with that of religious writings. The different religions really do walk hand in hand with the scientific facts as she unraveled the codes within ancient writings. Reading less, she found she was able to absorb information in the electrical magnetic fields. Knowledge gained by connecting with the energy of the elements of the earth. Yet in the knowledge Helen lacked wisdom. In her own frustration of knowing things she felt limited and unbalanced. Helen's mind now had knowledge, yet the soul cannot feel knowledge. The book brings us immediately into the present day where Helen works as a bartender in Colorado Springs, Colorado. This scenario explores the realms of everyday life interwoven with reincarnation, angels, demons and alien spirits. The main characters Trey, Johnny, Zeke, and Charity each living their own lives with the inner secrets of knowing their original souls nature. Helen shares of her mind's perception, that which limits herself to open her awareness. She brings attention to the spiritual not just being elaborate displays of grandeur, but the deepness of a one-time conversation with a stranger in a laundry mat, to sharing a hug with a friend. At first the reader is drawn to the characters everyday actions, habits and/or thoughts. Now, look closer, read the actual words being used and the numerology of the timetables. The 'labels' in which you the reader have created your opinions of the characters and re-examine how you are living your own life. The freewill you have, the words you use and the appreciation of each souls experience.
Labels
By R.E. Cyr-QasmiAuthorHouse
Copyright © 2009 RE Cyr-Qasmi
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4490-0155-1Chapter One
Neither hot nor cold, you were lukewarm.
I spit you out.
The labels you used were of meritocracy. Labels that we use to communicate with one another. We create words in which we form our thoughts to our own truths. The sharing of these thoughts into words, then our minds translate our own perceptions. Only what is thought is said, as we all have the ability to be in touch with one another's thoughts using the electricity pulsing through the brain. The electrical magnetic field in which we use everyday to speak on cell phones or listen to the radio. These thought frequencies being just as a channel on the radio. Each station having it's own frequency as each human has their own with their thoughts.
The labels you spoke with were not what your mind truly thought. The words your used being lukewarm not defining the beliefs of your truth. You were given the word. I heard and felt your words. My own sense of ego labeling you as inane, and I laughed at your fears. You raped me with the word and I allowed it, not aligning myself to my own truths. In my intense distaste of being raped by the word and labeling, I found myself unlocking the cellular memories within myself. I found the strategic game of having no judgment on your words or thoughts intriguing. You entertained me as I entertained you. My soul celebrated the sense of having no judgment.
Checkmate.
Chapter Two
You are what you are.
It's in your nature.
At a young age I found myself able to communicate with different spiritual beings. My awareness of things to come made me question my own reality. I began to correlate scientific fields with that of religious writings. The different religions I found really do walk hand in hand with the scientific facts as I unraveled the codes within ancient writings. I began reading less and less, as I found I was able to absorb information in the electrical magnetic fields. I accessed frequencies using osmosis. Knowledge gained by connecting with the energy of the elements of the earth. Yet in the knowledge I lacked wisdom. In my own frustration of knowing things I felt limited and unbalanced. My mind now had knowledge, yet the soul cannot feel knowledge.
In connecting to the frequencies of the dimensions of the past my soul felt the experiences lived. I actually felt what had been, incorporating the experience and knowledge. In writing of this life's everyday conversations and experience in which I believe is 'normal', others have told me is paranormal. I questioned myself wondering if it was just my imagination expanding on my experiences. It was the reflection of others that gave me affirmation of my truth.
I'll return to the past of being a bartender to set the scene of Revelation ...
"Helen, get me another one please." A quiet gentleman at the bar says getting my attention.
Turning towards the gentleman, I take his mug and refill it with beer from the tap.
"So, anything new today, J.T?"
The usual conversation takes place about the weather; J.T.'s faded blue eyes light up as he speaks of finishing two-thirds of the crossword puzzle in today's paper. A regular here at the bar, J.T.'s subtleness and formality adds a sense of refinement. He presents himself as neat and comfortable as the pressed shirt and slacks that he wears.
"Hey!" A brash voice yells. "Quit flirtin' with J.T. and bring us three shots of whiskey."
Without looking towards the owner of the voice, I take my time getting the shot glasses filled. The smell of smoke filters through the air creating the ambiance I am becoming familiar with. Turning to look at the couple coming through the door I noticed they are dressed a bit fancier than the usual crowd here. I nod towards them and smile. "Be with you folks in a minute."
"Thanks, Helen." Vinny, the quietest of the three, winks as he takes his shot.
Sam, the gravely voiced man grins as I set the other two shots down. The disheveled reddish colored beard of Sam's appears brown in the dim light of the bar. The large frame of his body clothed in jeans and a button up flannel shirt. A rip on one sleeve adds to his entire appearance as a big teddy bear that is a bit tattered. His brown eyes soften as he razzes me. "Now, Helen, you know we all have bets placed on who you are going to go out with first."
"You've been saying that for the four weeks I've been here." I place my hand on Sam's shoulder.
Sam hands me a dollar tip and kisses my hand as I receive it. He winks at me. This is his way of being friendly in a flirting manner. I thank him with my eyes and walk over to new couple now sitting at one of the back tables in the darker corner of the bar. As I approach the table I sense sadness between the two.
A tattoo of thorns decorates the lady's ankle, as if conflicting with the elegant jewelry and dress she is wearing. Her beauty radiates from within to all those who look upon her. She keeps her eyes down and their conversation fades the closer I get. The dark shade of the man's tailored suit matches his dark eyes in an almost unforgiving way, as if the suit was dyed to match his eyes. His thick long blonde silver hair pulled back neatly falls down his back like a gentle waterfall.
"Good evening, what can I bring you two?" Making eye contact with the man, I realize one of his droops slightly, with two scars underneath and one to the side of the eye. In a solemn, even-toned voice he orders a smooth whiskey and soda for the lady and water no ice for himself. Then asks. "Is there a phone I can use here? I'd be willing to put the charges on my credit card, as we don't have any change for the pay phone. My cell doesn't seem to be working."
"Darn that electrical magnetic field." I chuckle, thinking my joke is funny, only to see the man's eyebrow rise as if trying to figure out if I am serious or kidding. I clear my throat and say. "I'll get you a quarter for the pay phone, we keep a few extra at the bar."
Preparing the drinks behind the counter I nod to Justine and Melanie sitting next to J.T. Melanie turns from looking at the couple in the back, with a smirk on her face says. "He's sexy."
I shake my head and smile, thinking, 'that's so Melanie.' Always checking out the men that come and goes in the bar. Her blonde hair showing the many different shades of dyes she uses. Her clothes a size to tight for her thick frame, and when not in her work uniform then sporting t-shirts and blue jeans skirts. A friendly manner always seems to be a part of her. In the few weeks I'd been at the bar I'd seen her go home with quite a few men, just so she wouldn't be lonely. She doesn't pay attention to what people say, which is what I like about her.
"I'll get you another beer when I get back." I nod my head at Melanie and whisk the away.
"Here you folks go." I say quietly as I place them down. Taking a quarter off the tray I hand it to the man, and then ask. "Anything else I can get you?"
He pulls a credit card from his wallet and hands it to me. "Put a couple dollars on there as your tip."
"Thank you, sir." I politely speak. "The drink is only four dollars. I wouldn't feel right getting a fifty-percent tip."
Briefly glancing at the lady to see if I can make eye contact, her head doesn't move. Her eyes lock with mine, as I see a wealth of experience in her soul. The sadness I felt when I first approached their table is very present in her eyes. Her gaze leaves mine and she nods at the man. Nothing is said for a few seconds, and then I speak up. "I'll put a dollar on as a tip, thank you."
As I turn I notice the gentleman isn't wearing any socks. I didn't think this odd, as many people don't wear socks with comfortable shoes. Sometimes I wonder why I notice certain details abut people and not others. My ability to recall certain details at a later time for symbolic purposes sometimes has me laughing at myself for not being fully aware of other details. Looking up I notice Sam points at his empty beer bottle. I ring up the credit card as I smile nod in Sam's direction. Reaching into the cooler I grab three beers. I hand Melanie her bottle of light beer, and then head over to Sam's table with the other two bottles of beer. Setting the beers down, Sam tells me to put them on his tab. I wink, and then make my way over to the table with the couple. Handing the pen and slip of paper to the gentleman I realize he hasn't gone over to the pay phone to make a call. I say nothing, feeling as if words were not appropriate at this time.
"Electrical magnetic field?" His even-toned voice states more than ask as he hands back the slip of paper.
I look at him and respond. "Hobby of mine."
"Hmmm, interesting."
Two young looking men walk into the bar making their way to an open pool table. I recognize them as having been in here before, yet I question if I had ID'd them or had they come in on an earlier shift. I ask for their ID's. The older looking of the two whips out his showing me he's in his early thirties. The younger one's ID is more faded as if the washing machine has helped age it faster. He's old enough to drink by two weeks. "What can I get you both?"
"Light beer on tap." The younger one says.
"Pitcher or singles?" I offer looking at them both. "We have five dollar pitcher specials until nine."
"Pitcher." Says the older of the two handing me a five.
I can hear Sam's voice rising above the noise of the atmosphere, telling a story as he pounds the table. The echo of the pounding has a few others looking in their direction to see who is getting all excited. The fans rotating slowly around the ceiling don't seem to affect the smoke in the air, as I look around I realize a few more people have come into the bar and most of them seem to be smoking. I grab a few clean ashtrays and take the pitcher to the two men playing pool.
A tattoo of a winged dragon flashes as the older of the two men takes off his over-shirt, revealing a white sleeveless undershirt with symbols written in markers. The dragon's detail is exquisite wrapping around his upper right arm. The scales on the body hold colors of reds and oranges, fading into greens on the tail. The head of the dragon has gleaming white eyes and what seems to be a mischievous grin. The man looks at me as if to ask if it's all right to be in an undershirt. I nod yes and ask where he had the tattoo done.
"In the central part of town, a friend of mine owns a tattoo parlor." He says matter-of- factly. His light brown eyes look as if examining my thoughts.
"He does good work." I comment trying to get in touch with his thoughts and find he is blocking them.
The jukebox parades song by song of selections, catering to the country listeners as well as the pop music lovers. Slowly the crowd begins to thin by the eleven o'clock hour. The smoke in the air is softening, just a slight haze of what was earlier in the night, reflects the many personalities that mingle here. I smoke my first cigarette of the night. I stayed so busy taking care of everyone. I take in the moment of quietness with no one in the bar, thinking of the tobacco leaf that I am smoking. I get in touch with the aroma and can distinguish the chemicals from the actual plant. The taste of what is natural combined with mans way of producing and adding to. The TV's are on but no sound, reaching into my tip jar I take a dollar over to the jukebox and choose a few blues tunes.
Coolness ruffles the staleness of the atmosphere as I am cleaning off the counter. Looking up towards the front door I see what appears to be someone from the Victorian century. My awareness of things appearing, as they are not in this lifetime, but have been in another, I look again. My experiences of the different spiritual realms make me not think twice about 'seeing' people in different forms. A young man in blue jeans and a light blue sweatshirt with tousled brown hair stands inside the bar glancing around.
"Hey there." I greet the young man. "What can I get you?"
"I don't know just yet." He responds quietly, running his hand through his short hair.
"Couldn't sleep so I went for a walk and here I am."
"That happens." I say without thinking. I decide to say more. "You're welcome to stay awake here."
He laughs and pulls up a barstool. Resting his arms on the counter he looks into the mirror that faces him and seems to be concentrating on the dark corner where the couple had been sitting. Making a fresh pot of coffee I hear the next song begin with jazz sound of a horn livening up the place. Minutes pass as I finish washing the rest of the mugs and ashtrays, placing them to dry on a towel.
"Light beer in a bottle, please." The young man speaks as quietly as he did when he first walked in the door.
Setting the bottle in front of him I say. "Two-fifty."
He pushes the money that is sitting on the bar towards me. "Keep the change."
"Thank you." My smile extends the friendliness in my voice.
I can hear a car outside revving its engine loudly and peel out of the parking lot. I pour myself a cup of coffee stirring two tablespoons of sugar and some creamer in. I glance towards the young man who is standing at the jukebox. He seems to be intently looking at the selections. I sense a spiritual being hanging around towards the other end of the bar. I close my eyes briefly to 'feel' its energy vibration. I say 'It' for a description of a spiritual being that neither defines itself as male or female. Sensing 'it's' wisdom I send thoughts trying to discern the spirits frequency. Lighting a cigarette, I lean back against the inside part of the counter where the coffeepot and microwave are sitting. I notice the young man looking in my direction.
"To life!" I smile raising my coffee cup.
A grin appears across his face. He holds up his beer and says. "To life!"
A classic song from the seventies presents musical notes different than the jazzy horn sounds of the previous song. Within second the young man makes his way to the bar, across from where I am leaning. He pulls out his own cigarettes and lights one. Tilting his head upward letting the smoke flow from his mouth, his eyes glance to where the spiritual being is. I don't seem to be getting any thought vibrations from the spiritual being as I watch the young man. He looks at me. "Why am I here? To live and learn from it?"
"If that's what your wisdom tells you." I look directly into his eyes with sincerity.
He throws his head back and laughs out loud. Then asks. "Who's your friend?"
Aware he is referring to the spiritual being I raise one eyebrow and smile. "I thought 'it' was with you."
"Trey." He holds out his hand.
"Helen." I politely shake his hand and feel comfortableness.
"Helen, translation- 'of the light'." Trey says grinning. "Or is this lifetime the 'hell within'?"
"Interesting concept." I say, seeing a passionate intensity of being aware of many things beyond this realm in his eyes. There is a deepness of having experienced much in this lifetime. I find myself intrigued by his laughter and play on words. It is in these moments of a souls recognition that more knowledge is shared than in hours of conversation. His thoughts begin opening up to mine, but only in parts and pieces. The spiritual being is disrupting the frequency. I sense my own energy high off the exchange of thoughts and glance towards the spiritual being.
Trey finishing his beer nods his head at me. "I'll be around."
I nod respectfully taking the bottle off the counter. Trey slowly runs one of his hands from the front of his head to the back, his fingers not making a difference in the spikiness of his hair. There is definitely masculinity about him, yet a boyish figure stands there. His skin tone makes me think of the many lives he's probably lived combined into this one lifetime. The olive-brown of his skin hints at past lives from Asia to Africa, with dark bluish green eyes reminiscent of Europe, and of cultures that long existed before history was being recorded. He stands only for a few moments then walks out the door letting the coolness of the night air in.
Excerpted from Labelsby R.E. Cyr-Qasmi Copyright © 2009 by RE Cyr-Qasmi. Excerpted by permission.
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