Written by Roger Malcolm
(reader warning, though I am known under many names beyond Roger Malcolm, I am the truth)
“As it is necessary to affix right ideas to words, I will, before I proceed further into the subject, offer some other observations on the word revelation. Revelation, when applied to religion, means something communicated immediately from God to man.
No one will deny or dispute the power of the Almighty to make such a communication, if he pleases. But admitting, for the sake of a case, that something has been revealed to a certain person, and not revealed to any other person, it is revelation to that person only. When he tells it to a second person, a second to a third, a third to a fourth, and so on, it ceases to be a revelation to all those persons. It is revelation to the first person only, and hearsay to every other, and consequently they are not obliged to believe it.
It is a contradiction in terms and ideas, to call anything a revelation that comes to us at second-hand, either verbally or in writing. Revelation is necessarily limited to the first communication — after this, it is only an account of something which that person says was a revelation made to him; and though he may find himself obliged to believe it, it cannot be incumbent on me to believe it in the same manner; for it was not a revelation made to me, and I have only his word for it that it was made to him.” – Thomas Paine ‘The Age of Reason’
“Let ’em say we’re crazy
I don’t care about that
Put your hand in my hand
Baby, don’t ever look back”
When I met E, I moved my belongings aside never looking up at her as if I knew she was going to sit beside me, she did. She asked what I was doing on my laptop, I was working on writing on a script about a tattoo shop, as I sat in a tattoo shop. We spoke with ease as the time passed without me noticing and I never stopped thinking about her words after our first meeting. Our meet cute inspired me to write a scene for my first feature film to immortalize the moment. One month before our meeting I had bought my first Stephen King book “The Gunslinger”, E not only has “The Gunslinger” tattooed onto her arm now but an entire sleeve dedicated to Stephen King.
During our second meeting, I asked her about her spiritual beliefs, her response about not wanting to offend my religious ideals made my alternate-self laugh hysterically in another dimension. I still smile about it now but at the time I respectfully explained she was incorrect about her assumption. I listened with great intent at what she said and only wanted to hear more the more she spoke about her beliefs. Afterwards I told her she was weird, with a smile of course. It took some persuasion from another to convince her I had intended it as a compliment.
“Gordie: Do you think I’m weird?
Gordie: No man, seriously. Am I weird?
Chris: Yeah, but so what? Everybody’s weird”
Though time would pass without seeing each other or even knowing if we would cross paths again, we eventually spoke often and for hours upon end becoming friends during the first year we met. We were both in failing relationships at the time and were both in denial attempting to reconcile the impossible.
One night I had a revelation, a voice spoke to me. A name was said inside of my head. A name that seemed familiar but I couldn’t quite place it at the time and I gravitated to my computer. I looked the name up and read the information as a blaze of enlightenment shot through my mind. I immediately sent E a text asking her if she was “my Freya?”
On our first weekend together as a couple, where we spent it at a forested cabin in Salem, I presented her with the gift of the Brisingamen by campfire. I still remember the purple flames and the energy of that night.
When I eventually explained my spirituality to her, she almost immediately recommended my reading a book by Neil Gaiman entitled “American Gods”, I waited 3 years before eventually reading it. She had listened to my words and understood me. Indeed.
I most certainly love her, but to attempt to put in words how I feel about her would be a grand disservice to not only my feelings for her but to all that she is. However, I can explain this in words. My mother’s mother Vivian was the matriarch of our family. There was one very important necessity to me and that was organizing the meeting between the two. I knew the two must meet as my Mamaw Vivian was a Goddess in human form and I knew E was the one for me in this lifetime and it was absolutely essential to me that their energies must come into contact with one another.
E and I spent our first Valentine’s Day together at Story Inn and I contemplated stopping at my Mamaw’s that morning as we drove on 135 turning left on Beck’s Grove. However, at the time I didn’t want to surprise her with a visit and disrupt her day like that and only kept the thought to myself. Roughly 3 months later my Mamaw was taken to the hospital in Columbus. I arrived that evening to find her at unease over not being at home or even allowed to depart the facility, as all she wanted was to go home, a true country girl at heart. I witnessed her threaten to punch a nurse in the nose for checking her vital signs, annoyed at the frivolous nature of the act. She was very aware of what was taking place and her children were struggling to maintain their composure around her.
Surveying the situation I text E to see if she could stop by the hospital after work. She walked in wearing her nursing scrubs and for the first time met my Mamaw Vivian. She performed a basic check of her vitals as another nurse entered the room unsure of who she was or what she was doing, though saying nothing, as my Mamaw was as sweet and receiving of her intentions. E compassionately said that was all she could do and my Mamaw returned the love with her genuine smile and thanked her as they exchanged greetings of their meeting one another. We stepped out and E left for home and I stayed with my mother, aunt and uncle in the room.
At this time in my life I had undergone what I classify as my awakening after embarking on a trip to Waco, TX to work on a documentary interviewing survivors of the Branch Davidians. All my research had led me to discover some mind-opening realizations beyond the Waco Siege.
I was speaking to my uncle Rodney about the current situation of the world when my aunt spoke loudly towards my Mamaw catching our attention. My aunt said “What mom?” My Mamaw replied sounding somewhat annoyed saying “I’m trying to listen to him.” “Okay.” my aunt said a little upset, my Mamaw replied with “He’s talking about changing the world.” I was near speechless at that moment. She was about to turn 83 years old, only days away from departing our earthly realm and of all the people in my family I attempted to explain things to, she was the only one that had heard, comprehended and understood the truth of what I was saying.
E’s presence had I believe placed her at ease for that moment to hear my words. She was able to leave the hospital the next day and passed away only a couple days later after her birthday in her home with my uncle Rodney by her side. She left us peacefully after having wished everyone that was by her side a happy birthday the day before, leaving me her strength and the knowing and reassurance that she was ready for her departure. I didn’t cry around my family as they all most understandably did. E told me at a later time that I had handled her passing unnaturally well. Perhaps around others I did, but while alone showering tears poured down my face, as I loved her so dearly.
Years before she had given me a stack of old comic books my Papaw had amongst his many things he collected. I always found it fitting she bought me a comic book one day back when I was 12 years old at Jay-C while she shopped for groceries, she saw me reading it and told me to get it. I can’t recall any other time she bought me anything outside of a birthday or holiday gift. This one time has always remained special to me. It was my favourite comic book character and the issue contains the words “And for the first time since the day of his rebirth…(he) feels the pain…He sees the moment of their death through their own eyes…Hears their silent prayers screaming out for mercy…Begging for Justice…For Vengeance…The experience…The Pain…Is overwhelming, But (he) will survive…Never to forget…And always changed.”
“The most important things are the hardest things to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them-words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they’re brought out. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you’ve said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it. That’s the worst, I think. When the secrets stay locked within not for want of a teller but for want of an understanding ear.” – Stephen King ‘The Body’