I’ve had many, because it is normal and I try to remain present and calm and collected.
As a young, intrepid, full of bravado young man, I was renting a room from a friend, awaiting the apartment upstairs to vacate to rent and got into an argument with the next door neighbor. The police came 5 times to stop us from arguing and the fifth time they hauled me off to the pokey. Thinking though it was Long Island, I was still in New York and America I was flabbergasted when I was thrown into jail. Turns out Nassau County was broke and routinely stretched out even minor violations, getting $150 per day, per prisoner—-charging them as felonies——-then slowly lowering them week by week to an original violation.
So I’m sitting there. In Jail. Young and pretty. lol
My wallet and cell phone had been left at home, my parents had just moved in another state, and the jail phone charged as collect so it was blocked by all the other numbers I had memorized. The priest who came around kept getting the numbers I gave him to call, wrong. It got to the point where even the letters I sent with the free paper and stamps went unanswered by my best fronds and family—-I was alone. Like really alone.
In jail with murderers and rapists and drug dealers and killers.
I’m doing yoga, Tai Chi, meditating, praying, trying to stay invisible but the days are dragging on. I began to think—-there has to be a purpose to this? What’s the lesson in this? Why would I be so cut off from the world?
I worked on being present, being helpful to my new killer and criminal friends by helping them write letters, counseling them, listening to them, playing innumerable games of chess and cards with them.
The guards keep transferring you from spot to spot to cell to pods—-I think in the few weeks I was there—-I went through about 5 spaces. One was a big room with like 8 empty beds. It happened in the middle of the night, by surprise, so I was terrified. As they’re leading me in, I dare to ask why and the guard escorting me asks the guard at the door if I’ll be okay in there? The guard at the door, who was built like a Bull and happened to be a Taurus—-looks me dead in the eye and says: “He has God. He’ll be fine.”
I’m like—-what the fuck???!
In I go.
I lay down on a bed in the corner, it’s about midnight and I go to sleep. At about 3AM I wake up to this high pitched scream that sends me reeling from one side of the bed, off the bed, and into the corner. Like someone just put a stereo on blast next to my ear. From what I can see at the window 8 feet above me, the sky is red and purple, and I can still hear this shrill screaming.
It dawns on me that there’s a war happening. So now I’m huddled on the bed and by dawn they come and transfer me to yet another cell-pod. I think to myself that perhaps I’m seeing or feeling something that is TO come, a war is about to happen and I’m trapped in here. That freaked me out even more because all of the cell doors are electronic/magnetic locks—-so if something happens, we’re further trapped in our cells.
One thing that was available regularly and passed around were newspapers.
I make a request to go to the library and every other day, they take me. I get there and because I’m one of the obedient good, nerdy guys, the guards leave me alone with my books in the hallway, and go chat and pick up more folks to move. Then they come back for me and take me back to the pod-dorm—-it’s like 52 rooms on two levels in an open space—-like you see on Oz, with a guard tower in the center of the large room. Again because I’m good, and it’s early they let me sit in the open space and watch TV, if I want.
One of the guards walking back, mentions a plane crash. When I’m sitting watching TV, everyone else asleep—-the news comes on about the World Trade Center being hit by a plane. As they’re reporting, the second plane hits. I initially thought—-I don’t think that’s an accident.
Then upon the second plane hitting, I think, Yup, that’s terrorist's. That's how brown people fight.
I sit there shocked as it happens and then I realize—-I’d been on sabbatical but had interviewed for not one, but two positions, in Tower 2 and been to a graduate school recruitment drive in Tower 1. My plan, interrupted by my detention was to start back in August——at AIG——in the World Trade Center (I did financial analyst work.)
It suddenly coalesces that being in jail, cut off from everybody, including friends and family, who could and would immediately make the exorbitant bail set at $40,000—-yes, for trespassing on the neighbors property during the argument—-has saved me.
I look at the newspaper a couple of days later—-and when I was alone in that big room and heard the shrill scream——Mariah Carey had a breakdown. The headline was:
There was another one from the Daily News a few weeks latter about “Songbird Breakdown” and I remember thinking—-yes, it was like a shrillllllllllllll note being screamed. It made the cover, I remember because it was right before 9/11 week.
Now I’m back in my little cell-pod and I realize that I am safe. That I’d been all over the city at consulting positions for years so would’ve had no qualms about going to TWTC and working, in and out every day—-even would have been at Sam Goody in the mall basement buying CDs and Pepsi. I would have been at my desk (or late and coming up on the elevator) when the planes hit. How would I have reacted? And I realize, for all my smarts, I would have had nothing to compare such an event to—-which I do now—(and a few months later rejected a paralegal position because it was on the 65th floor of Rockefeller Center—-so I’ve avoided skyscrapers I can’t exit from through the stairwells in under 5 minutes)——I would have followed “directions” and stayed at my desk.
Then I start thinking about my friends and family, who I’m cut off from (they knew I was to start there). And yes, my mother did put me on the Missing Person’s list by 9/12 because I was still out of contact, stuck in jail, for a week afterwards—-the court system was then shutdown around the country so the forestallings/back log that were purposeful from the previous week’s holiday tripled in time, due to 9/11.
Now I’m really praying and meditating and thinking on Time, Space, The Body and Death not existing—-one of my lessons from A Course in Miracles, a mantra I’ve adopted——and I start thinking on visions and thoughts and impressions and oddities around me and being essentially shutdown with all of my prodigiousness (I had even discovered a way to just walk out of the jail, was about to—-and the guard—-who everyone had told me sexually abused several prisoners—-from far away, talked me out of going through the door—-because it would have meant an Escape charge. I had to literally trust “the Devil” I realized in that moment, and submit to being trapped in jail, alone.)
So now I’m really thinking on this and I’m thinking on the fact that I am never alone, I am me, I have God and that me is a form of spiritually eternal. And I’ve often thought and acted on praying for myself—-praying for Kyle 1993 when I was in 1997—-abiding by linear time not existing and “sending back/forward” strength and assurance to Kyle Then from Kyle Now to get through something. Making it a spiritual practice to pray for myself in the past and future with my wherewithal Now.
What if Kyle from the Future is praying, coordinating, working for me, in the Then (2001), future beyond 2001?
And suddenly it all sort of clicked——-Oh, what would I do to save myself….from myself? I’d put me in a box, a trap, a jail where all the rules of sense and sensibility and communication were out of whack, constantly. It really had started to feel insane that so many adults seemed to be conspiring against me contacting anyone, getting out, getting help (even my roommate knew what happened when he got home from work and ignored my family’s calls and never tried to contact me. he just went shopping in my room.)
What would I do to save myself?
And then it all made spiritual sense…and I sat my ass down and accepted that this was intended.
Got out a week or so later, moved form Long Island a month later, ironically to Manhattan, the Lower East Side, and further, my mother, who had studied to be a pastor—-and it was a point of oddity from me to her about her immersion in religion, suddenly—-she was able to hear 95% of the visions and literally sermons/speeches I got from “God”, a Voice, My Higher Self, to me about myself, life, anything I wanted to ask about other people, the world, the future—-yes, it’s all come to pass.
One of the Purposes in my Life, for/from my mother, who was a trying person in other ways, was that her zeal a few years prior to study, go to school, become a pastor—-gave her the spiritual space—-the depth, to counsel me, hear me, talk me through all that had been dumped into my head. Manhattan had a special thing with street phones that you could talk for 15 minutes for free—-so at night after work, to avoid the hovel I lived in for a couple of months, I would talk to her for 15 minutes, half a dozen or more times, a night.
So, In Sum
Is there a God? Oh, yeah but not quite how everyone proselytizes it, but perhaps it’s different for everyone.
Are we all connected in some ways? Yes. There was a scientific report some years ago that there is a normal “chatter” level of human mental biofeedback in the world. I liken it to a hum—-that I have always been able to hear slightly, like on the periphery. Who knew there was a way to measure it? But the scientists discovered that right before 9/11, an hour or so, their normal readings went lower—that humans, across the globe, sort of paused in a biofeedback way, and then it happened and resonated and rose, and days later, returned to normal. Like a pressure wave coming towards us that we all stilled for.
The questions I asked of “God” personal and global, have all come to pass. And that’s okay. it’s no big whoop. At least I don’t take it all oooooooooh psychic psychic superpower, let me float now. I take it as I take all of my senses seeing and identifying things, being opened in a deep psychic way—-to even getting some Mariah scream from her own psychic space—-which may’ve been her reaction to the “pressure wave” of such a profound global psychic experience about to happen.
People have had babies—-the sexes I knew, years before them being pregnant; I was able to also ask insight questions of people—-why is such and such like such and such?—-and see and understand that answer.
Healing. Since being sexually abused as a child, I’d always felt like a minute “crack in my (mental) vase, water seeping out” on a fundamental level. What happened in there—-after I refused any meds—-the jail medicated prisoners up the whazoo in there on anti-psychotics—-but if you’re not biologically psychotic, it ironically makes you psychotic. I’d never taken drugs so so I think it sort of opened my mind to itself and my biofeedback training as a teen, meditating, Tai Chi, yoga practices allowed me to recognize and seal that “vase crack”—-I can’t tell you what’s “gone”—-but that crack—-the repetitious mantra I believe was from being abused—-in words, not mental images—-”I don’t want to die”—-something I used to repeat to myself incessantly during stress, faded and is gone. I was able to convince the guards to convince the doctor and warden to exclude me from the drugs so I was lucid and clean for weeks before 9/11.
Even if I try to repeat it—I don’t want to die—-it won’t “stick”. I changed as a person, changed myself on a fundamental level, and those couple of months of counseling, post jail, with my mother (and a 9/11 psychologist set up by AIG) were her spiritual purpose to counsel me, to a sort of clarity through it.
Yes, there are a couple of really big proofing things that happened, that I swore to God, I would never discuss/reveal—-and even with my mother I didn’t—-though I think she perhaps, knowing me in near-totality, and hearing the near-totality of the experience, could surmise.
So, I’m good. It’s all good. It’s all moving towards a greater good. And God…well people overthink that a bit too much. I find it banal even as I comfortably, calmly experience a deep, profound connection to the Universe and myself.
#KylePhoenix
#TheKylePhoenixShow
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