Soul Path: A Spiritual Adventure

By William Benkovsky

At some point in life we must each come to terms with the questions: Who am I? Why am I here? Is the Universe just a cosmic crap shoot, based on chance and luck, or is there an unseen benevolent order striving to guide us behind the scenes?

Matthew Stone, having wandered far from his soul path, is about to find out. Launched on an amazing journey of spiritual awakening, what he learns and experiences along the way will change his life forever...and yours.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 25, 1999
• ISBN: 9781462802784

William Benkovsky

William Benkovsky left the corporate world to follow his own soul path. He is now a full time writer and published poet, living in Seal Beach, California. Soul Path is his first novel.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

The spirit, Riff-3, waited—checking for possibilities, anticipating opportunity. Building tension had signaled that another step in its evolution was at hand, but what was it, and where? A suitable learning adventure required the right circumstances— major challenges, gut wrenching emotions, a quest for a higher purpose, and, of course, the proper surroundings.

Problem was, existing in the Astral Plane as a pure spirit just wasn’t the appropriate environment. True, an infinite abundance of facts, stories, and second hand knowledge constantly circulated among the spirits here. Nevertheless, in order to evolve, Riff-3 needed to experience; the intellectual pursuit of wisdom seldom proved an adequate substitute for personal involvement.

No, the basic three step process for true experiential learning still worked best: pick the proper environment, jump right in, and hang on for the ride. Stir in a bit of chance, a dash of free choice, room for conflict and confrontation, a quest toward a higher purpose, and lots of open-ended situations to muddy-up the outcome. Finally, start fresh by throwing in a major memory loss to eliminate knowledge of all past lessons.

Now you had the potential to truly experience a magnificent adventure!

Obviously, the well ordered, and highly cooperative community within the Astral Plane didn’t meet these requirements. However, the constantly shifting uproar in the physical fabric of spacetime fit perfectly.

And then Riff-3 felt the pull—the possible conception of a new child about to take place on the planet Earth. Yes, everything resonated; definitely the opportunity the Spirit had been looking for.

Having manifested human form on Earth many times, Riff-3 also recalled the challenge that awaited. When moving from pure spirit into human form, it was always the same—fragmentation.

At the moment of conception, when the Spirit’s new human physical body first began to form, the dark force of the Barrier Zone would immediately rush in and surround it. Then, as the baby grew in its mother’s womb—trapped on the other side of the Barrier Zone and separated from its Spiritual Self—the swirling energy of the Barrier Zone would slowly erase all past memories.

The result: Humans always forgot the true essence of who they really were.

Yes, the Barrier Zone—that dark screen of negative energy constantly generated by the combined fears and limiting beliefs in the collective unconscious of all humanity—would be waiting. However, Riff-3 welcomed this event, because the isolated human Ego-Self’s struggle to break through the Barrier Zone, reconnect with its Spiritual Self, and regain wholeness became one of the most powerful learning experiences in the Universe.

It was time.

Are you prepared to join us? the spirit guide of each individual human being now on Earth asked in one voice.

Yes, Riff-3 responded.

Welcome aboard.

In a blinding burst of rainbow energy, Riff-3 streaked through the shimmering boundary of the Astral Plane and into the fabric of space-time. The Spirit felt the howling shock wave radiate outward as the fragmentation process began, and when the swirling darkness of the Barrier Zone rushed in, it was ready.

On the other side of the Barrier Zone, Riff-3’s new human Ego-Self flashed into existence. Another space in the cosmic classroom was filled. School was back in session.

Nine months later, in the brightly lit delivery room of a small Southern California hospital, Matthew Donald Stone came into the world at 4:18 AM on Easter Sunday. All past memories were now wiped clean.

CHAPTER 1

Happy 48th Birthday. See you tonight.

Matthew Stone looked at the words written across the bathroom mirror in red lipstick. Donna liked to do things with flair. Even in lipstick his wife’s handwriting flowed across the mirror with sweeping style.

His handwriting had always been somewhat jerky.

As he reached for his toothbrush, he noticed the envelope with his name on it propped up against the blue flower vase next to the sink. He picked it up and took out the card. On the front of the card was a picture of a prairie dog standing on a fence post, paw outstretched. Inside, the verse read, Seize the day! Happy Birthday. Underneath that, Donna had written, Love you more each year. Donna. At the bottom she had printed the word, OXEN.

Matt smiled. OXEN was their private code for Lots of love and kisses. They used to put OXOXOX at the bottom of cards and letters for Love and kisses, but one time, on the spur of the moment, he had playfully written OXEN. When she had asked what that meant, he told her that it was plural for lots of OX’s, and they had continued using it ever since.

He recalled the day they had first met, fifteen years ago, at a singles dance in Newport Beach. Toward the end of the evening, as he was getting ready to leave, a woman walked up to him and said, Hi. I’m Janice. My girlfriend thinks you’re kind of cute and would like to meet you. Are you interested?

Well, that was a first! Sure he was interested.

Somewhat shy by nature, going out to meet women was usually a real stretch of his comfort zone. Not that he couldn’t do it, but he found it hard to make small talk. How do you know what

to say next? Some men had a real knack for it, and he had always envied their ability to do this. There were times when he met someone and the conversation just seemed to flow, but usually at the beginning it was a little jerky, just like his handwriting.

He realized he was probably being too critical of himself, because back then many of his single male friends had confessed that they also had the same problem. That’s why many of them had to have a few drinks (a few of them, a lot of drinks) before they were ready to take on the formidable task of meeting the opposite sex.

Anyway, he had followed Janice over to a corner of the crowded nightclub and was introduced to Donna. She was tall, blonde, and good looking. Thank God, he remembered thinking. He didn’t like to hurt anyone’s feelings, and since he knew that she was attracted to him, it would have been awkward to get out of the situation gracefully if he hadn’t felt any chemistry with her.

He imagined that it must be just as difficult for a woman in this situation. Having taken the initiative to make the first move, she couldn’t be sure the man was attracted to her; if he weren’t, then she faced the chance of rejection. Men were confronted with this possibility all the time, since they were usually the ones who made the first advance.

Still, rejection was not fun, and if handled in a thoughtless, or even cruel way, could cut like a sharp knife into a tender ego. No wonder so many single people just said screw it and stayed home with the cat and watched television. The process of meeting someone new could sometimes be a real pain.

But meeting Donna had worked out. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be standing here in front of the bathroom mirror holding the birthday card she had left for him.

He looked up and studied his reflection in the mirror. Face aging well; mild blue eyes with a few wrinkles starting to appear at the corners; wavy brown hair, cut in a conservative business style, with some grey starting to show at the temples. He cocked his head to one side, a boyish grin momentarily transforming his normally thoughtful and somewhat serious expression.

He enjoyed swimming in their backyard pool, and his body was tanned a light golden bronze from the Southern California sun. Although he carried his 200 pounds well on his stocky, six- foot muscular frame, he would have preferred to be at the 190 pounds of his college football days. But that was many years ago, and he wasn’t willing to put out the extra effort to get down to his ideal weight. No, it was enough of a challenge just to stay where he was.

Matt glanced over at the clock. Almost 8:00 A.M … Usually at this time on a Wednesday morning he would already have been at the office; he normally left their home in Irvine at 6:30 to get to the Spectra Electronics plant in South County by 7:00.

He’d been the plant manager at Spectra for almost six years now, and most of the time he enjoyed the job. But lately he’d been feeling a little restless. Nothing he could put his finger on—merely a sense that something was missing in his life. He had no idea what … just something. Maybe he’d just been working too hard.

So, he had decided to take a day off on his birthday; now, here he was, Wednesday morning, a free man, with the whole day before him. Donna was the office manager at an interior design firm in Newport Beach, and had to work today, but to celebrate his birthday they were meeting at seven o’clock that evening to have dinner at a great little seafood restaurant.

A quick blur of motion to his left jolted him out of his reverie. The cat’s leap to the counter top next to the sink turned out to be a little less than graceful as its claws scrabbled noisily in a desperate attempt to gain a footing on the slick, unyielding marble surface. But in a moment it recovered, seemingly unconcerned, and stood looking inquisitively up at Matt with those penetrating blue eyes that Siamese cats often have. Actually, Sam was part Siamese and part all American alley cat, and as Matt reached out to gently stroke the soft fur along the cat’s back, he recalled the circumstances that had brought Sam into the household.

About a year after their dog had died, Donna decided she wanted a cat—not just any cat, but a pure white cat. At first, Matt had tried to talk her out of it. Not that he didn’t like cats; it was just that along with the cat came the responsibility of taking care of it: feeding it, taking it to the vet, cleaning out the litter box. Weekend getaways were no problem. Put out some extra food and water, and a cat could be left by itself for two or three days. But anything longer meant the pet hotel or someone coming in to check on it while you were away.

His older stepson, Michael, who was twenty-three, was a computer software engineer, living in Palo Alto, and his younger stepson, John, who was twenty, was in the Army. Neither one of them was in a position to do any cat sitting. No, it just made more sense to Matt to enjoy the freedom of a petless house.

But his wife kept pushing for a cat. She promised that she would take full responsibility; he wouldn’t have to worry about a thing. Well, after a month of discussion he grudgingly gave in, and for the next two weeks Donna went out on cat foraging expeditions, in search of the perfect white cat. Her quest finally ended at a local cat adoption agency.

He remembered the Saturday morning she had triumphantly arrived home, flushed with excitement, gingerly carrying a brown cardboard box with air holes cut in the sides. She gently put the box on the kitchen table, opened the top, and there was Sam—a pure white fluff ball of a kitten with bright blue eyes, crouched in the middle of the box, obviously somewhat frightened, looking up at them expectantly. A moment later he gave a plaintive little meow, as if to ask, Is it safe for me here? Matt had to admit he was cute, and Donna’s obvious elation pleased him, too.

That was five years ago. Now the cat that sat next to the sink looking up at him still had blue eyes, but his fur was no longer all white. Sam’s ears and paws were a darker shade of brown-black, and his tail also had some brown and black mixed in it. The tiny kitten body had turned into a somewhat overweight fourteen- pound cat body.

Matt frowned as he recalled the change that had come over Donna as her pure white kitten began to take on the additional brown-black overtones. She still played with Sam and took care of him, but she seemed to be less interested—more like it was just a chore rather than something that gave her pleasure.

Sam turned out to be a playful, even-tempered cat, maybe a bit lazy, but he fit in well with the household. Over time, as Donna’s interest lessened, Matt took over more of the responsibility of taking care of him, and today Matt considered Sam more his cat than Donna’s.

Maybe, Matt reflected, if Sam had stayed pure white, and not changed color, Donna wouldn’t have lost interest, and things would be different.

A momentary feeling of uneasiness passed through him. He wondered how much he’d changed since marrying Donna, and what she thought of those changes.

CHAPTER 2

That evening, Matt pulled the car up to the valet parking area in front of Neptune’s Broiler. He glanced at his watch. Five minutes to seven, right on time—he prided himself on being punctual. Probably the result of childhood training. His father had always stressed the importance of being on time; showed that you were a man of your word, as well as respect for whomever you were meeting.

Over the years, Matt had found that not everyone shared this philosophy. He had learned to be flexible with his friends and acquaintances that fit into this category—allowing them their id- iosyncracies—but at times he still felt irritated when they were late.

Since Donna was definitely a card-carrying member of the non-punctual club, Matt was pleasantly surprised when he walked into the restaurant and saw her sitting in the waiting area.

Four years younger than Matt, Donna was one of those women who aged gracefully, and had inherited her light complected, blue eyed, honey blonde good looks from her Swedish/German mother. Her 5’7" tall body still had all the curves in the right places, and most people, including Matt, considered her an extremely attractive woman.

Clothes had always been important to Donna, and the color coordinated silk scarf she wore around her neck added flair to the tailored outfit she was wearing. He knew that she had come directly from work, and it amazed him that she could still look so fresh at the end of the day.

Clothes were not a priority to him, and when he could, he chose to dress for comfort rather than style. Jeans, white tennis

shoes, and a sport shirt tended to be his outfit of choice. At work he had to wear a business suit, but considered it a uniform that had somehow been thrust upon modern man, more for social status than any practical reason. Neckties were even worse; they made no sense at all. Just an expensive and uncomfortable piece of cloth that hung down to your belt buckle, and had a way of constantly getting in the way. Oh well, women had to put up with high heels. Seems both sexes were caught in the fashion and status trap.

Noticing him walking toward her, Donna smiled broadly as she stood up to greet him. Her face always lit up when she smiled, radiating a feminine confidence edged with a trace of challenge. But at times—like right now—Matt would notice a transitory flicker of an unsure little girl look that seemed to ask, Am I okay?

He found this disconcerting, because part of him felt a little intimidated by her strong, capable feminine energy; while at the same time he wanted to put his arms around her and console the scared little girl that momentarily peeked out from inside. Definitely a push-pull situation.

Early in their relationship he’d realized that there was a part of Donna that needed constant approval, especially in the area of her physical appearance. Over the years she’d let him know that she enjoyed compliments, and