Spiritual Romance: A Novel of Spiritual Quests

By Jack H. McKeever

"Jack McKeever has been a philosopher most of his life and a seeker of
answers and truths. At this age of life he has started writing about his
experiences and through his Imagination has created a totally spiritual
location called Noose Lake. In this story you will meet the powers of light
and darkness. You will come to see how Mother works and helps one find
their destiny and follow their path. How a dream can come to reality as
long as one believes and follows their intuition. How in total sadness beauty
and love still can unfold. As Deepak Chopra has written, and how Jack likes
to live his life, Life is Love in Action."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 4, 2010
• ISBN: 9781453552483

Jack H. McKeever

Jack McKeever has been a philosopher most of his life and a seeker of answers and truths. At this age of life he has started writing about his experiences and through his Imagination has created a totally spiritual location called Noose Lake. In this story you will meet the powers of light and darkness. You will come to see how Mother works and helps one find their destiny and follow their path. How a dream can come to reality as long as one believes and follows their intuition. How in total sadness beauty and love still can unfold. As Deepak Chopra has written, and how Jack likes to live his life, “Life is Love in Action.”

Book preview

Spiritual Romance

Image.jpg

A Novel of Spiritual Quests

Jack H. McKeever

Copyright © 2010 by Jack H. McKeever.

Library of Congress Control Number:           2010911563

ISBN:                  Hardcover                          978-1-4535-5247-6

                             Softcover                           978-1-4535-5246-9

                             Ebook                               978-1-4535-5248-3

Jack McKeever asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

83573

Contents

Chapter One

Revelation: A Dream

Chapter Two

The Journey

Chapter Three

The Wakening

Chapter Four

The Cave

Chapter Five

Going to Town for Spring

Chapter Six

Is This Real? Can It Be?

Chapter Seven

Oops, I Blundered

Chapter Eight

Jennie Goes Home

Chapter Nine

Dreams of Inspiration from Above

Chapter Ten

Jennie Arrives Home

Chapter Eleven

Bringing Jennie Home

Chapter Twelve

What a Way to Meet

Chapter Thirteen

The Hospital

Chapter Fourteen

The Contest

Chapter Fifteen

My Mountains

Chapter Sixteen

The Eagle Speaks

Chapter Seventeen

Prelude to the Wedding

Chapter Eighteen

Merriment in the Meadows

Chapter Nineteen

The Big Event

Chapter Twenty

Noooooooooooooooo!

Chapter Twenty-one

The Wolf

Dedication

I dedicate this book to those I love, my daughters, who are the angels of my heart. It is the children of the world that remind us adults of the innocence and beauty that shine throughout the world and that which we find within ourselves. Their imagination abounds with joy and love, that which we find when walking life. Life is, as Deepak Chopra has said, Love in Action. Our own Holy Grail.

Introduction

I would like to thank all who have pushed me to finish this book and all who have waited patiently. My friends who made sure I didn’t forget St. Patrick’s Day. In remembrance of a special good friend LWR. She was in herself a great poet undiscovered, with a way with words few can match. She pushed me into writing this book and helped me through many trials and blocks. My only regret is that she isn’t alive to see the finished product of many debates. Out of respect for her, her poem starts this book. Her poems are an inspiration in themselves. She wrote this poem to start my book, and I know she is watching as the book is finished, from wherever she is. To me, she will always be blessed. I would also like to thank the Fae, who have guided me while writing this book.

A Note on Spiritualism Today

Spiritualism in today’s society is lacking. Those of us who seek true spiritualism are finding it in ways that the Christian religion would shun. Others are going back to their original roots. Whether you’re a Christian, Wicca, Druidic, Pagan, or any from the multitude of other religions, I have found after talking with a friend a definition I would like to share about spirituality.

To become truly spiritual is the question today. For this to happen, one would have to assume a childlike viewpoint toward people. There would be no bigotry, bias, or slanderous beliefs. One would have to believe within his/her heart without a shadow of doubt, as stated in the Bible, that all men were created equal. The color of our skin, our religion, the language we speak, nothing matters; we are all one. We are all brothers and sisters and must learn to get along.

To have faith is a hard thing to maintain in today’s society, but it is in all religions a deep-founded axiom based on positive results when one maintains faith. To quote Scripture, Genesis 1:1, God created man in his image; in the divine image he created him; male and female he created them. This allows the older traditions, the laws of duality, divine feminine, and reincarnation. Above all else, God is love and thus the holy grail of life, the heart. We must, above all else, remain true to ourselves and to our hearts, or else we will commit the largest sin of all. We lie to ourselves, which brings about the laws of duality of obverse versus good within and without ourselves.

Mother Earth must be attended to, or she will let you know she is not happy. Yes, I believe mankind needs a shake-up. Greed and laziness and ego have a firm hold on our desires. Most can’t be happy with what they have and need more. This book is a spiritual romance, a mystical, spiritual dream come true. I hope you find it amusing and fun to read.

Jack H McKeever

Dream Lover

I dream a face I have never seen,

Her body shrouded in a cloud,

I dream of her now every night,

I have called her name out loud.

I know her touch, I know her scent,

Her every hope and fear.

She’s told to me, her fondest wish

To be with me right here.

I can feel her arms,

I have felt her lips caress,

I felt the softness of her hair,

The satin of her breast.

I feel the need inside me grow,

The pounding of my heart,

I wish the night to never end,

For in daylight we’re apart.

I shall sleep for I must dream,

To see her lovely face.

Come to me dream lover,

Take me into your embrace.

—LWR

Chapter One

Revelation: A Dream

Do dreams count for anything in the reality of today’s world? Dreams are part of the world and manifest what you can see and tell you what can come or be. We are only limited by our ability to imagine.

Peter was staring into the maze of trees that bordered the mountain pass which he had to travel this morning. It was a cold spring morning. The air was clear and thin, up this high. You could see your breath, but in a few hours that would all be gone as the sun crests the horizon.

He was coming over the higher ledges of the mountain range, checking for poachers as he didn’t allow any hunting on his property. He had one hundred acres of mountain property, which he found hardest to control. So every spring and fall, he would go on his trek to locate traps and destroy them.

Whisper, his horse, was the best finder of traps. He had an uncanny sense as to where to find them that Peter could never figure out. This morning, looking over his coffee, he was admiring his stallion. He was sleek, well muscled, and could run like the wind, and was all black with eyes which penetrated your very soul.

Peter remembered back to when he purchased the property and the horses from the old owners. This was a fond memory, for Peter, on a day like today. Daydreaming, some would call it. Peter found he was doing a lot of this of late.

He came up from town with the real estate agent. It was a two-hour drive from town, up the mountain pass. The realtor had said that the pass was sometimes closed in the winter due to heavy snow.

That doesn’t bother me because I came to get away from everything, Peter remembered saying.

Coming up to the house, he got out of the car and smelt the clean spring air. You could smell the clover on the breath of the wind. You could feel your soul rocket to the sky from delight. It was beautiful, lonely, and wild. The place was everything that Peter had hoped for and more. It felt like the very mountain was calling him home.

The meadows of buttercups and clovers were so green and brilliant with color. The majestic trees were spreading their branches to the sky. The bungalow was set back into the trees, with a veranda around the front of the house facing the lake. The lake was azure blue and so clear that you could see the bottom for a long way out from the shoreline.

The mountains were jutting skyward with their snowcapped peaks all around the ravine. As his foot hit the earth, an eagle cried overhead. Peter knew he was home. That had been five years before. But the memory to this day was so vividly clear.

During those five years Peter had kept up a logbook of events. He had named animals that had frequently come to visit his house. He had some favorites that he had helped when they were injured whether by nature or poachers, and he had become one with nature. He could feel the roots of the trees as they grew and hear the wind sing in horror when something died. The people of the town didn’t understand him, and he didn’t want them to. Only once had anyone visited him and that was via the lake. Peter always locked the gate on the roadway.

Peter had come to this location after a long court battle with his ex-wife where the pain was so bad that he just had to leave and get away from everything that had meant anything at all to him. His daughters would still come to see him when they could. This didn’t happen very often though, because he was so far away from them. Jessica and Cynthia, though, were his pride and joy. If only he could let them see his pain and let them both know how much he loved them. If only their mother would understand. Oh well, shaking his head he looked around, pouring the last cup of coffee from the pot. Whisper, my friend, I guess we should be off, if I expect to be off this mountain come sundown. The big black horse shook his head as Peter drank the cup of coffee and then picked up the saddle and harness.

As peter was cinching up the saddle, he heard a cry overhead. Looking up, he saw a falcon folding its wings for a dive on its prey. Such speed and accuracy from so high above. Peter and Whisper watched caught up in the excitement of the moment. They heard the cry again as the falcon swiped toward the ground at such a flashing rate of speed and heard the cry of a rabbit as the falcon plunged for the kill.

Before you knew what had happened, the falcon was in the air again flying toward its nest with food for its young.

Deadly but beautiful, Peter thought, deadly but beautiful. Going into his bags, he took out his logbook and wrote:

The Falcon

My wings fly me high, for no one to see the shape of me,

My guide’s dark essence shows to me,

The fatal clutches of love you see.

Through the mysteries unknown the truth, I see.

My eyes wet with fears, leap straight to my heart . . .

With a mighty cry love blows from the sky . . .

For no one to see but all to feel, the warmth of me.

The wisdom of hope is my plight, for without hope,

No love you will get, how would you cope?

I cry for souls lost, like the banshee wailing at night,

As I feel their pain in their horrible plight.

My sister below with the fire of sight,

Watching, waiting to see who she should smite.

Oh, Powers above, why me my love,

To beget such a painful path from the ones I trust.

With tears streaming down his face, he looked into the eyes of Whisper, and with a knowing heart, the big horse nuzzled into Peter’s arm a little further.

Peter, with tears in his eyes, asked, Why, Whisper, why do I see things like these, the pain of the falcon, the pain of the prey? Lately, I have had visions that don’t make any sense to me. I see things that aren’t there but are. I don’t understand what is happening to me.

The big black horse shook his head back and forth and snorted. Damn! I wish you could speak, I almost need someone to answer me on these things, Peter said hoarsely. Hugging his horse, he finished saddling up.

Well, Whisper, my dear friend, it is time to be heading down this mountain. Let’s go, Bailey. Whisper, lead the way, buddy. What say you, Whisper, line cabin by lunch or sundown?

Whisper nodded. Throwing his leg over the big black horse, he whistled, and the horse moved out onto the trail. Whisper, if I didn’t know you were a horse, I would swear you were human. Peter laughed. Whisper snorted in disgust, thinking, Friend, if you only knew. Ha-ha-ha-ha!

Laughing in his heart, the big black horse moved smoothly along the path. For the next few hours the trio slowly worked their way down the mountain through the upper tree line, along a goat trail, stopping here, stopping there, busting and springing poachers’ traps. Whisper always stomped on the traps; he seemed to enjoy the prospects of the trap never ever working again.

Looking back along their path, Peter could see how far they had come; it seemed quite a distance. The heat was getting stronger, and all the dew had left the ground. Strapping his jacket to the back of the saddle, once again he mounted Whisper.

How long now, my friend? Peter thought. Another couple of hours and we should reach the line cabin. I would love to spend the afternoon in our meadow. It would be nice to lie on the grass and feel the breeze whistle through the tall oak trees and watch the sun go down. Just listening to the forest as it winds down from the day.

Whisper snorted and kept up his path. It would be nice to play with Bailey in the clover again. That meadow has the magic of the ancients in it. It stimulates the mind and makes you wonder. It would be good for Peter.

Whisper headed toward the line cabin. The cabin could be seen in the distance. It was set into the trees. Peter couldn’t get his arms halfway around the old majestic oak trees in this area. They were old, and he wanted to keep them that way. They were the most majestic trees he had ever seen. The trunks were as wide as three men put together, and many were thirty feet high, reaching up as out of the sight of men, saying, You cannot see me.

The little log cabin he had built a few years back, in case a cold, miserable storm came across the mountains and he couldn’t make it back to the cave or down to the house in time. Unloading the packs and unsaddling the horses, Peter headed for the cabin.

Go, Whisper . . . Bailey, have some fun. We will stay here till dawn. You will find me later in the meadow. Right now, it is coffee time! Peter exclaimed.

Whisper nickered and was off with Bailey chasing him through the trees. Looking at his horses, Peter could only admire the sleekness of the race as they darted around the trees, in and out, like hummingbirds darting around a flower patch. A ballet in the woods, some would say.

In the cabin, Peter opened the windows to air the place out, and put water on the fire for coffee, after he got it going. What a life! I have no man-made inventions here to handle. Time is what I make, fear never enters, and I am at peace with the forest around me. The only time element is to ensure supplies for the winter and that is easy to do. Why, in the last year, I haven’t even followed the months on the calendar. Peter’s mind would not stop, however, on the ideas of loneliness that surrounded him. It was great to be at peace and happy with himself but the hunger for companionship was also there. How he would have loved someone there to share his experiences with. Someone that understood the beauty and simplicity of life itself.

Making his coffee cup, Peter looked out the window at the peaceful day. The squirrels were jumping from tree to tree. The chipmunks were scolding him for not throwing out nuts. The birds were singing in the trees.

I am very lonely here, Peter thought. Suddenly, I feel it in my heart. I wish I could find someone to share all this splendor with. I’m not getting younger, that’s for sure. Let’s see. I am now twenty-five years old with twenty-three years of experience. Peter snickered.

I hate the cities with the pollution and smog and crowded streets. The absurd way man has created a cement fort to enclose themselves into. The constant struggle to survive within the time frame of man.

But I truly wish I had someone here with me to enjoy the peaceful harmony and splendor of the wildlife, the trees, my mountains, and even the sky in its many wonders, from peace to mighty thunderous crashes. How I wish it could be so. I can see her in my mind’s eye—the smile when I come up the walk from a trip, or the call to supper and even breakfast after chores. What a lonely life you have picked for yourself, Peter thought.

I believe if I found someone, then I would be complete. To find your spiritual roots, your heritage, this is all fine, but you also have to share once you become enlightened. I always believed that once you had achieved balance and harmony within yourself, someone would always show. Humph, maybe I have to go find her. It would be great. He smiled to himself as he could hear her singing in the kitchen or scolding Whisper for eating the pie she had baked and put on the windowsill. The laughter across the mountains as it echoed along the wind stream.

Yes, he admitted to himself that he had come to a lonely but beautiful life. If only I had my daughters. Time to go to the pasture, Peter suddenly thought, Whisper and Bailey will be there frolicking around the trees and munching on the clean clover of the field. He had a favorite spot against an old, old oak tree that seemed magical in such a way as to put him in a dream sleep that would last forever.

Walking through the trees, the squirrels would laugh at him, and the birds would scold him for interrupting them as he passed along under the trees they were singing in. Peter just looked up at them and laughed.

As he came into the pasture or meadow, the instant fragrance of clovers, bachelor buttons, daisies, and marigolds caught his nostrils and sent them tingling. No matter how many times he would come to this meadow, the fragrances of pine, clover, and the multitude of flowers never ever ceased to amaze him. Peter had a smile going from ear to ear at the sudden feeling of ease and peace that came over him.

Whisper and Bailey had come trotting over to him and nuzzled along his neck. He reached up and stroked there necks. Ah, my friends . . . such loveliness and beauty such as this pasture a person from the city may see but once in their life, and here we sit almost once a month. Well, my friends, it is siesta time for me. You know where I’ll be. You go have fun, friends. Oh, Whisper, that noise reminds me there is a red squirrel over in the far tree that is annoyed and letting the world know. Maybe you could tell him to get lost for a bit, ha? Maybe even just be quiet. Now I don’t know if that will work, but it is well worth the try. Peter chuckled to himself.

Finding the roots jutting out along the ground and his favorite resting place within the roots, Peter leaned into the tree. As he closed his eyes, a smile creased his face. He could hear the birds in the sky and in the trees. He could feel the wind blowing the leaves in the trees. He could feel the growth of Mother Earth beneath him as she cradled him in her arms to sleep.

The animals quickly disappeared from his awareness as did the trees and the birds, to be replaced by a vision that Mother Earth was showing him of pure delight. There in the stars up above was a lady to behold. She was beautiful; her hair of spun a reddish brown, so soft and silky, was down to her waist. Her figure was thin but not too bold or obese either. Her smile that of angels, her laughter that of the Fae, and her humor was a little bold.

Peter kept looking to his disbelief at what he was being shown. Peter’s mind went nonstop, I wonder what I have to do to have such a face meet me in the morning. The eyes so . . . yes, look into the eyes. The twinkle, the pain, the sorrow. It’s there to see, no hiding that. This is a true heart. Imagine that! But Mother Earth wouldn’t show me a lie. This must be the one that is meant for me. Oh! I feel so good, I could honestly cry. May we have this dance, just you and I? I would love to feel your embrace, and we could even dance there high in the sky. May I kiss your lips? So fresh and true! My god! You are so beautiful! I have the life for you. Would you have me? I am loner, and this is true. I am far from cities and towns, and this is true. But between the heavens and the earth, this place is the best. Never touched by hands that would rest. These lands are true in every sense. Mother Earth is the only test?

Wow! Peter thought, I can’t believe this. Is it true or a test? I have to find your loveliness. I need to know this even as I rest. Oh, Jennie, my love, I hope for the best as my lonely beating heart needs the rest.

Peter shook his head and stared off to the distance as tears streamed down his eyes. Whisper was standing over him, and if he didn’t know better, he would swear the horse was smiling at him.

Oh, Whisper. I have seen the angel of my heart. I hope this be a true dream. I hope she is true. My good gods! I could smell her hair and her very essence. I felt her skin as it brushed mine as we danced in the stars. Oh god! My feet are shaky. What time is it, my friend? Wow! The stars are out. I guess I was tired, huh.

Peter let out a bellowing laugh and shouted out, My god! I’m in love with a dream heart, and I feel so good. Tonight is my night to howl at the moon!

Chapter Two

The Journey

A journey for peace and soul-searching can and usually does reveal the truth and bring wonders to your heart.

Peter stood up leaning on his horse Whisper, exhausted, drained, but feeling so light of heart and joyous, he just couldn’t believe what had happened to him in his dream, and wondered if he would have more.

The cabin, my friend, can you help me there? I feel so weak I am not sure if I could make it myself.

Peter stumbled through the meadow and into the trees along the path. Losing his grip on Whisper, Peter fell a few times on his journey toward the cabin as it was dark and he could barely make out the trees or their roots that jutted across the path. Finally, the cabin’s smokestack came into sight, and Peter knew he was almost at the cabin.

Sweating and out of breath, leaning on Whisper, Peter made it to the cabin. Once inside, it took no time at all for Peter to be fast asleep. Whisper went to Bailey and frolicked a bit more.

I think Earth Mother might have been a little too much for our friend to handle, Whisper commented.

I am not all that sure. He definitely got vivid pictures today, and I think he may sleep for the night and the day. I think, however, he will survive, Bailey assured Whisper, nipping at his back leg. After all, Mother Earth never gives us more than we can handle, but she does occasionally push the limits a bit, would you not say?

When are we going to tell him about us? Bailey asked.

When I feel he is ready, and he is not that now, Whisper replied.

Well, I hate not talking and having to save it for when Peter is out of earshot. He is such a good man as far as humans go, Bailey snorted and then trotted away with Whisper falling behind.

Changing to little beings with nice beautiful wings to go play with their friends in the meadows.

If Peter was awake, he may have even heard the song sung that night, for it was a song of vision from the elf sage to all as they danced and played in the moonlight.

Bailey was right about Peter sleeping; he slept for a day and half. When Peter woke up two days later, the first rays of sun were coming through the window.

Aghhh . . . I am so hungry, I could eat almost anything. I wonder what we have in the cupboards, Peter thought.

Going to the cupboard, Peter could only find the few items that he would replenish his backpack with, if he ended up stranded or stuck up here. He had been stuck a couple of times when the weather had been severe. Taking out his pot, he diced up a potato and put some leeks and onions in it along with some beef jerky to make a broth. Peter also put the coffee pot on.

Sitting at the table and staring out the window, he pondered over the past dream in the meadows. Unlike most, Peter knew that the dreams of now were often the reality of the future. They somehow showed you what was possible to have and hold.

Now, maybe the girl wouldn’t be so beautiful, but Peter felt a happiness knowing his prayers would be answered and he wouldn’t be alone for the rest of his life.

Peter finished his coffee and broth. Feeling a wee bit better, he opened the cabin door and whistled for Whisper and Bailey.

Watching the horses come to him on the gallop over the rise always astonished him. Contented, he locked up the cabin and saddled his horse preparing to go home.

Well, Whisper, he mumbled, I am not sure what exactly my dream intended this time, but I am sure I will find out. Patting the big black horse, he climbed into the saddle. Whisper, my friend . . . time to go home. So let’s get there.

By noon they crested the ridge overlooking Peter’s place. Peter had been thinking all this time about the dream. He had been unable to shake it, as he normally would have by now. Strange though it was, the dream meant to stay. He couldn’t help himself from doubt though, because sometimes dreams just don’t come out the way we think they should, rather quite the opposite because the brain just can’t find any logic to them and instills its own.

Whisper, in his usual frame of mind, raced through the trees and vaulted the corral fence snorting, as if to say, And you built this to keep me in, ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! . . . Not likely.

Peter was unprepared for the jump and landed on his butt in the dirt. Laughing, he got up and walked over to Whisper. One day, my big friend, I would love to see you land on your butt. However, thank you for the wake-up call.

Peter unsaddled the big black horse and removed the pack from Bailey. Drying the horses off and currying them gave him more time for thought. He still couldn’t shake the feeling that he was supposed to be doing something. The only problem was he couldn’t think what that something could possibly be.

Well, my good friends, you’re as good as new now. Go play, and I will go to the house and tend things there.

The horses trotted into the meadow to frolic. Bailey said to Whisper, I think Earth Mother has given it to him bad, he daydreamed all the way home. Laughing wildly, Whisper snickered, Bailey, you old tooth, of course she did. We will be packed again tomorrow, I’ll wager. He must journey to find the truth this way.

Let’s go play, because tomorrow we will be heading for Cougar Pass, Whisper stated, and the horses went streaking through the meadow.

Peter went into his home and put a fire on in the hearth. Pouring himself a shot of brandy, he looked out over his place and around the cabin. A woman’s touch, that is what it needs. Damn! These thoughts were so out of character for him, he couldn’t believe he was thinking them. What kind of women would want me, let alone live way up here? I think the storms are fantastic but it gets so cold in the winter. It is so remote. I cannot fathom a woman that would love this place as I do. She would have to though, just to survive.

Peter walked out to the veranda and sat in his chair, taking in the smells of the forest, the pine, clover, the sweet smell of the lake, and the sounds of the wind through the trees. Closing his eyes and visualizing the eagle overhead, he could see it clearly. The eagle’s wings billowing in wind and its fierce eyes seeing all below. Not missing the tiniest of movements. The feeling, though, of flying free and seeing everything was so good to feel. Soaring over the tree tops. Swinging up into the skies. Then plunging back to earth at heart-racing speeds. The flight of the eagle took him on a roller-coaster ride that was exhilarating, speeding his adrenalin and heart to newer grounds, leaving him smiling and laughing. Suddenly, appearing in his playful antics was the woman he had had the dream about. She appeared as a female eagle on the horizon; however, he knew instinctively that it was her. The essence was the same as the fragrance wafted over the breeze.

Peter left the eagle then and came back to his veranda. Having another sip of bourbon, he thought of the lady. Why, why is she everywhere? He must go on a journey; that is what the eagle had told him. To Cougar Pass I’ll have to go. I have