Soul's Journey

By Joanne Johnson

With her 30th birthday only weeks away Jordan takes a hard look at her comfortable life. Once the doormat to a myriad of users and manipulators, she enters into a spiritual contract to move forward and not look back. Ridding herself once and for all of the individuals that had done nothing more than use and abuse her.

Charting a new course of independence proves to be the greatest challenge of her life, and unwittingly awakens in her, magical skills and talents dormant for several generations. Could this be the liberation of her soul or her undoing? Jordan determines to step out of the box that had confined her and embrace a new reality of living.

She finds her summer vacation transforming into an adventure she will experience only once in her lifetime her souls journey.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Mar 9, 2010
• ISBN: 9781449081423

Joanne Johnson

Joanne lives in central Alberta with her five children and husband. She enjoys writing, teaching spiritual classes, and awakening people on their spiritual soul path.  Publication of her second book Soul’s Awakening is due for release in the Fall of 2010.   [e-mail]

Book preview

Realization

My story begins one month before my 30th birthday. That was about the time I started to analyze my life; reviewing my choices. I was feeling deep down that I needed a change, not knowing what that may be. This led me to question the choices I had made regarding my life path. Should I have taken a different direction, like going to school, or was destiny creating the way for me? All of my siblings had excelled in their careers; they all were very successful and well respected. I, on the other hand, had been content with making specialty coffees at a franchise down on the corner near my house. People were always asking me, Jordan, what do you want to be when you grow up? I, for some reason, had assumed that I had all the time in the world to decide, until now. Reality had hit me like a lead balloon.

It happened at my usual Sunday brunch with my sister, Megan. I was meeting her at eleven, but of course, I had just woken up and it was ten-thirty. I would have to hurry to be there on time. She was a high-priced legal lawyer, and was amazing at her job. She hated it when people were late and wasted her time; however, was usually late herself. I didn’t want our whole conversation to focus on my lack of respect for her by showing up late. Our Sunday brunch would then turn into a Sunday lecture; as a lawyer, she went there easily.

My sister seemed to be able to get in the heads of all the people she was questioning. She had an unsettling way of knowing when they were lying or hiding information. She also had the ability to lead people into a line of questioning that exposed all their deepest secrets. I had never stopped to think that she might use her skills on me, until now.

Miraculously, I had made it exactly on time. It was a new record for me. I sat in the café awaiting my sister. It was a beautiful sunny day as I lifted my face to bask in the warmth of the sun through the window filling my body with happiness. I must have been deep in thought because I didn’t hear her approach ten minutes later.

Jordan, I am sorry I’m late, I got caught in traffic. We had an emergency meeting this morning at the office downtown. I have a client that I know is lying, but I can’t prove it. I have tried to step down, as his legal counsel, but for some reason my firm won’t allow me. I stared at her quietly, wondering to myself how long it would be before she let me get a word in edgewise. Today seemed to be starting out like every Sunday we had brunch.

She was dressed in her typical sophisticated style with a beautiful, silk, white-collar blouse. My sister has always been the epitome of professionalism and exuded intelligence, power and class. Her strength of character was reflected in her trim 5’7 build, and her silky blond hair always emanated the way she was feeling. Today was no exception to the rule with her hair being pulled into to a tight bun at the back of her head which illustrated to me just how well put together she was. From the moment I made eye contact with her sparkling, self-confident, blue eyes, I immediately felt under dressed and insecure. She had this complete package of a perfect life, so it seemed.

Funny, when I’m with my family, I’ve always felt inadequate in every way. I sat and somewhat listened as she rattled on about her client. I could not help, however, to compare myself to her.

I was in blue jeans, and a white t-shirt. My Sunday morning attire was typically relaxed and comfortable. I had put my long brown hair that reached the middle of my back up in a ratty ponytail, and then placed a ball cap on my head. I couldn’t even recall if I put a comb through it this morning. I was about three inches taller and much shapelier than she was. Most of my dates were insecure with my height, considering I towered over most men. I learned at a young age that most men wanted to be my friend, but not necessarily my boyfriend.

As I saw it, my sister should be extremely proud. The only thing that I could see missing was that she did not have someone to share her life. She had not found that perfect someone that she could be happy with. In this regard, she and I were the same. Megan would go through boyfriends as often as she changed her socks. Most men were lucky if they ever saw her more than once. I remembered her once referring to men as ‘disposable chew toys’.

My thoughts then traveled to my last boyfriend seven years ago. He had been perfect at first. He was about six feet tall with lots of potential and treated me well. He called when he said he would and always asked me what I wanted to do. Then, out of left field, the honeymoon was over. He was never on time, bitched about his work, and treated me as if I was a doormat. Sometimes, I even wondered if the sex was worth waking up for. I held on for about three months longer than I should have. I had great hopes that he would change into the potential version I wished for him to be. What did I expect? He was a salesman after all. He had sold me on his product (himself), but there were no guaranties once the purchase was made.

Jordan, are you listening? Megan asked with a high-pitched annoyance in her voice. Startled, I pulled myself out of my head to pay attention. I had to give her something to sidestep her criticism.

Yes, I was just thinking about my birthday in a month. I can’t believe I’m going to be thirty, I replied.

The thing I’ve noticed most about my sister is that she assumes what your feelings are, and then directs the conversation according to where she thought it was going.

I thought you were going to have a hard time with turning thirty, she explained. Look at your life! You have always taken the easy path. You never really excelled at anything. You have no passion for anything and continue to fill the void with other people’s emotional baggage. Look at all your friends. They’re all needy and are always immersing you into their dramas. You step into their lives to save them from themselves.

I tried to speak, but she continued.

Furthermore, are you not tired of holding everyone’s hand through life and watching yours fly by? You’re not getting any younger, you know.

It felt as if she had slapped my face. I tried to deny what she had said, but couldn’t. I was the oldest of three children and the only one that had not pursued a career. I had thought that being a coffee barista was a great job… until now.

I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but sometimes we all need to step outside of our bubble to see what is really going on, she continued. Do you even know who you are yet? You’re like a chameleon. You become what people need of you, but struggle with who you are, and never stand up for yourself. I always wondered why you use humor in difficult situations. You don’t seem to know how to be serious. When faced with a difficult decision you will always run and hide in your hole.

What was she talking about? I don’t use humor to deal with difficult situations! My shoulders tightened up as if I were being disciplined. I glanced around the room hoping for a visual escape; I begrudgingly continued to listen, saying nothing. She always knew how to monopolize the conversation. I watched in silence as she continued spewing forth criticisms while polishing her cutlery. The waiter approached and I watched in horror as she ordered.

I will take your house salad with no tomatoes or onions. I would like the dressing in a cup on the side. Your dressings are not as fresh as you advertise. If my salad smells of meat this time, I will be reporting your behavior to the manager on duty. I want a bottled water room temperature, not chilled.

I wanted to sink into the floor and disappear. Her behavior was always like this. I saw the stress lines form on his brows before looking my way. I had to give him credit, though he handled it better than I would have.

I will have a cheese burger and fries. Tap water is fine with me. Thank you.

I couldn’t help but feel sorry for our waiter. He quickly brought our brunch to the table with shaky hands. Before eating, she squirted hand sanitizer liberally on her hands then sent her water glass back to the kitchen three times. It wasn’t clean enough for her bottled water.

Megan, just drink from the bottle, I said. Don’t worry about the glass.

I am paying good money for the meal. I want a clean glass! That shouldn’t be too much to ask, she replied. This is what I was talking about, Jordan. If you see yourself as a second class citizen then so will everyone else.

She was making me very uncomfortable. I would have to leave our waiter a large tip for putting up with her. I worked in the service industry, so I knew exactly what our waiter was going through. What was she yapping about? I didn’t see myself as being a second class citizen! As brunch continued, I wished I could have been anywhere else but there. I have always been the type of person you could outright insult and then I would beat myself internally with the whole conversation for not defending myself. This time was no different. I grinned and nodded as if I were listening all the while feeling like a daft, silent fool.

When our lunch came, I was looking forward to some peace and quiet as she ate, but no, that would not happen today. She began to complain about a man she had met yesterday in the elevator.

I was in the elevator and a man stepped in. I heard later that he was a mob boss named Bruce something-or-other. He started up a conversation with me. He stared at me as if he knew me and asked if I liked antiques. Of course, I said no because I did not intend to have a conversation with a complete stranger. I just looked ahead hoping his conversation would cease. However, he kept asking me questions about all sorts of things my background, where I was from, and so on. I skirted around his questions then got off on the floor I needed.

Later that afternoon, I entered the parkade, and a limo pulled up with Bruce inside it. He asked if I would like a ride somewhere. Of course, I said no again, and pointed to my car that was off to my right, when I noticed one tire was flat. Luckily, my secretary Jill drove up and offered me a ride. I quickly agreed and watched the limo drive off. I have made it a rule to never to mix business with pleasure. It is usually a bad combination. Most of the time they are either criminals, or divorced. What ever the case, they are both bad news! she explained.

After brunch, my sister’s Blackberry rang. She placed her pointer finger in the air to tell me to hold on a minute, and then answered. To my relief, I was literally saved by the bell. She was still on the phone when she dug in her purse for money, placed it on the table, stood up and waved good-bye to me. She hand-signaled, I’ll call you later.

As I left the café, I analyzed everything she had said. I went into the denial stage easily and became angry, deep down knowing some of it was true. Sometimes my sister could be so self righteous, and opinionated. Even the sun had disappeared behind the clouds, adding to my depressed state. My world was suddenly not as bright and cheery as it was before our conversation.

By the time my strides ate up the five blocks to my apartment, I had digested most of what she said, realizing that I did need to make some small changes. I dragged myself up the three flights of stairs to my apartment. When I opened the door, the usual sense of home and peace was missing, mainly because I had lost my peace of mind. My tiny seven hundred and five square foot apartment that I had placed lots of love and care for in the last seven years, now felt empty. I always had money, not a lot, but I was comfortable.

As far as the coffee shop was concerned, I really enjoyed the people I worked with and our customers. Now every part of my life seemed as if I had chosen myself to be second place to everyone else. All I ever remember my parents saying to me as a child was, ‘Play nice with others Jordan, watch over your siblings Jordan, and make sure they are safe and sound’. No wonder I thought I did not matter. I had spent my lifetime making others happy at my own expense. I was always going out of my way looking after everyone else.

This is where my story begins, my soul’s journey to find myself. This was the end of my life, as I knew it. Everything from this point would change in the bigger aspect of my reality. The person who looked in the mirror today would never look back again. I sat on the couch in my apartment and listened to all the messages left on my answering machine. They all were very similar.

Please call me; it’s important that I talk to you about what is going on in my life. After about the eighth message and all from very different people, I knew without a doubt that Megan was right. My friends were all needy. I helped them deal with their issues so that I would not have to deal with my own. After feeling somewhat disgusted with myself, I turned the phone off.

I put on my Victoria Secret jammies, which always made me feel better. They were pink, soft, and sexy. I know it’s bad when the things that normally give me great pleasure in life, stop.

Sleep did not come easily that night. I started by counting my ceiling tiles from the reflection of light coming through the window. I moved to meditation, hoping that I could bore myself to sleep. The frustration hit home when I could not shut my brain off to achieve any kind of focus. I was very frustrated when I glanced at my alarm clock. Only fifteen minutes had passed. The minutes seemed to last forever. At this point, I decided to get up and make some sort of a plan for my life.

I sat down at my tiny kitchen table with a piece of paper and pen. At the top of the sheet in big bold letters, I wrote. MY LIFE PLAN. I sat there for a while and stared. The letters went blurry. This was so depressing. I was trying to make some sort of plan to pull myself out of the slump that was my life and was drawing a blank. With a huge sigh, I walked over to my couch and lay down.

I must have dozed for a couple of minutes because I had a sort of daydream about going into the mountains. I was able to feel the peace and serenity of the drive in my black Jetta through the mountain passes. I woke with a start and felt this would be perfect. I would get away, clear my head, and maybe find some sort of passion in life. It did not take me long to allow the self-sabotage to take over.

What if I had a flat tire and my cell didn’t work? Who would hold my hand and save me?

The nervousness of the situation hit me. I had never done anything that wasn’t about someone else. I always held someone’s hand through, well… just about everything watching or holding their broken hearts until they could move forward, which now I could see would be never. The same people in my life would recreate the same situations over and over with different people as a way to not allow peace in there own lives. Because of my responsibilities as the eldest child, I had never thought or taken the time to place myself first, but rather allowed everyone else, and their problems to take priority. I decided that desperate times call for desperate measures. No matter what kind of fear it triggered, I had to follow this through. It was settled; I got up and began my list.

MY LIFE PLAN, Before I am 30

1. Take a holiday by myself.

2. Learn to do things alone and for myself.

3. Put myself first.

4. Find my passion.

5. Find out who I really am….

After a few moments, I smiled seeing that I had a plan. In four days when my scheduled summer holidays would begin, I would have three weeks all to myself. I had been saving money here and there all year, so that I could fly to Florida and vacation with my parents. We planned this trip every year. They would rent a house on the beach and all of us kids would take turns staying with them for a week or two in the summer. It was always safe and organized fun. I needed something different this year, even though the thought of my plan was terrifying.

A Plan

Working the next four days felt like I was just putting in time. I had several people ask me if there was something wrong. I would say, No, I just have a lot on my plate right now. By the fourth day, people stopped asking. They just looked at me with sympathetic glances.

I would like to thank you for the coffee, said one of my regulars.

I could not help but notice that she had handed me her card discretely hidden in her money.

Thank you, have a good day, I said putting the money in the till and then glancing at the card. She had a PhD. in psychology. I watched her turn at the door, look me directly in the eye and wink. Before she was out the door, I had discretely tossed her card in the garbage.

Thanks, but no thanks, I mumbled under my breath.

I noticed that all my user friends, although they did ask me what was wrong, failed to express real concern, and then would promptly move on to tell me about their lives. On rare occasions, I managed to say I’m fine before they cut me off with chatter about their lives. I have always had people confide in me and realized they would continue to do so as long as I allowed. The most self-absorbed had already gone on to their story before I had even had a chance to answer. Damn I hated it when my sister was right.

My thoughts, while packing, centered on how long I was going to be gone. I figured I would take a week’s worth of clothes then wash and wear, as I needed after that. Closing up my duffle bag, and reaching for my MP3 with all my favorite tunes, I took one last look around. I had taken care of everything I could think of. After loading up my Jetta, I went back upstairs, with great hopes that the next time I looked at my apartment I would be a changed woman, on my way to a brand new life. I stepped out and locked the door. I felt like a child getting ready for my first vacation.

Anticipation, excitement, and uneasiness were my feelings on the surface, but overall, I could not wait to get going. Looking back, I can see how I should have been more careful with what I asked for; some moderation would have been appreciated. Hopping in the car, I tried to think of anything that I might have forgotten. My obsessive-compulsive disorder began to come into play.

Did I lock the door? Have I left on the curling iron? Or have I shut off all the taps? I put my seatbelt on, started the car, heard the engine hum, turned on my MP3 and chuckled as the song Life is a Highway started to play. I took it as a sign that I was on the right path and everything was as it should be and loudly sang along as I pulled away from my parking stall. I was moving forward fearfully into the unknown, with hopes that I would be given great insights on my journey.

As I left the outskirts of town, it felt like the point of no return. I had not really thought about where I was going, just that I had to go. For once, my life would be spontaneous, have adventure and be about living in the moment. I was always thinking at least two days ahead, planning everything so I could feel comfortable and safe. This was a totally new experience and I could feel my stomach turning violently. I waved good-bye to the last house as I left the city, thinking to myself, that this is where my old life ends and my new one begins.

A few miles out of the city, my stomach settled. I had decided to keep driving until I figured out where I was going. I had remembered that I forgotten to phone my mom to explain that I would not be there in two days. I dug around, finding my Blackberry in my purse and dialed her number. She answered on the first ring, to my dismay. I was hoping to leave her a message saying that I had made other plans without really going into it.

Hi Mom, how are you? I pulled over to the side of the road, so I could focus only on our conversation.

Immediately she said, What’s wrong, I can hear something different in your voice?

Nothing, I said. I have had a change of plans and am not coming out this year. I have cancelled my flight and wanted to tell you not to expect me at the airport.

Why dear, what’s wrong? she asked worried.

I am turning thirty and realized that my life has been fairly predictable, I explained. So I’m taking a… soul journey. This trip is just for me, it’s something I need to do.

That is great dear, she said. I hope you find what you are looking for.

The strange thing is that when I spoke to her on the phone, I could hear her smiling, even though I could not see her face.

I asked, Are you smiling?

Oh, you know me, I am always happiest when my children finally start to realize what is really important in life.

I am sorry if I disappoint you, I know that I’m not as successful as Megan or Isabelle.

You are the first of my children to follow your heart, she said. You could have all the success your mind desires, but none of it will bring personal heart fulfillment.

That doesn’t make sense, I said. Look at my siblings. They have it all together. They all have found some success in their lives. They are the best in their professional fields, or close to it.

She was quiet for a moment before she continued,

Jordan, have a great time. I am proud of you, no matter what. You will soon see what I mean about personal and professional happiness. How one can bring soul happiness and the other loneliness. If you get a chance, we would love to see you on your birthday.

Ok, I will see what I can do. And thank you for understanding.

I understand more than you know and look forward to hearing about your trip, she replied honestly.

I had the weirdest feeling, as if my Mom could see the future or something. It was as if she understood. I thought the phone call would be a lot of guilt about how she was going to miss me.

However, I said, Thank you Mom, I love you.

We all have specials gifts Jordan. You are taking a journey to find yours. So please make the most of your time.

Bye Mom, see you soon, as I hung up my Blackberry and pulled out safely into the highway. I couldn’t help but wonder why that conversation had been so easy.

That was a lot easier than I thought it would be. Although a strange conversation, it wasn’t unlike others I had with her, as if she were trying to tell me something without actually saying it. I had many conversations with my parents over the years that somehow managed to hang in the rafters waiting for moments of boredom, or idleness to replay themselves; for instance, when I first started dating.

They sat me down and explained the intricacies and value of finding the right person to share my life with, as they had found each other. I guess they were hoping that I would take my time and find someone special to love and cherish. However, to their utter disappointment lately, or so it appeared, I had been single way too long. My belief was if I could not find someone like my dad, I would no longer settle for almost good enough.

I admired and loved my father immensely; he treated my mom, as well as, my sisters and I with only kindness and respect. He was intelligent, hardworking, and handsome, but when it came to personal matters, he was shy and reserved. I laughed even now remembering his analogy of the perfect relationship; a relationship is like a basketball game he explained. The balance of power is delicate; each person carries the ball of power for a short time, and then must pass it to their partner, so they can carry it for a while.

If you are in a relationship that feels like you have the ball all the time, or never, you need to call a time out, and inform your teammate about the new rule changes. He continued to tell me that if you carried the ball of power too long, then one person had too much control in the relationship, and the partner would eventually feel resentment or bitterness. Things would eventually fall apart. I recall nodding my head at him hoping he would think I understood, but of course how could a relationship actually be like basketball? I appreciated his effort, although had never had a relationship long enough to consider his theory.

My mom then took her turn and explained relationships are like a plant, they need to be watered and nurtured, or will eventually die. If you leave your plant in the cold, it will shrivel and die quicker. Relationships require emotional effort from both parties to keep it thriving and healthy. I remember how uncomfortable I felt when she continued to talk, switching to the subject of sex.

The rule of thumb is, she explained, if a man is selfish in bed he is usually selfish everywhere else. I laughed hard when she said that. Thinking about my parents having sex was hard to believe let alone my dad was good in bed. I needed to change my focus. The way my thoughts were headed was disturbing.

When I looked at my parents’ relationship, I never expected to find one like it. I always thought I would probably have to settle. My parents had an amazing partnership. They had been married almost thirty- two