Ken did not have any time to think about his dad, the dream or the magazine. John had packed the day very full, they went over numbers, set some new goals for the company and then enjoyed lunch with some of the local producers in China. Presently the company exported organic beef, speciality teas and a highly successful niche apple juice, it was all the crave in the high end Whole Foods locations. The day whirled past with great speed. Ken found himself already at dinner shaking hands with the two South African producers who had come in to discuss next month’s visit and to solidify the contracts they had been discussing for the last three months.
John had set dinner up to be a purely social experience, for they had tomorrow to discuss the bottom line business details. John’s wife Li Na and her father Huan joined Ken and the two South Africans, Annika, a flower producer and Jabulani, a fruit producer. Ken immediately liked the two South African farmers, both were a little older than he was, with diverse stories of how they got into the farming life. Annika had always had a passion for flowers, especially the incredible Proteas, her most highly demanded product. Like Ken, her family had insisted she study Business at college, for growing flowers was just a hobby. Ken related to her story on a deep level. His business degree served him well, however, he knew it was not his passion, it had been a way to financially succeed. He was still not clear about his passion, he knew that he loved meeting and working with the farmers, often he found himself quite jealous, wanting to have his hands in the dirt.
He found himself intrigued that one could generate a financially successful life growing flowers, wow, he had never really thought about where the flowers in stores came from. Annika was a bubbly outgoing woman in her late thirties, Jabulani was a quiet thoughtful man, who seemed to be in his early forties. His family had been farmers for generations, only recently branching into the export business.
Ken queried about the South African wineries, one of his secret obsessions. Annika lit up when he asked, “I have some good friends who own a winery not far from my flower farm,” she shared with joy. “They are still a young winery, but, Luan and his wife Thabisa are creating some incredible small batch wines, that are receiving recognition. I’ll make sure we have time to go visit their winery when you come to South Africa next month,” she offered. “That would be amazing, I fell in love with South African wines on one of my trips to Europe. I was shocked to learn how many wineries there are and how much is exported, especially to Europe,” he responded.
On the ride back to his hotel, Ken reflected on the day. It had been a very packed day, his morning arrival seemed far away, yet, the magazine induced thoughts tugged on his psyche. Even though he was completely exhausted, jet lag finally hitting him, he still wanted to open the magazine to see if it still worked. Part of him anticipated he would discover that he had just imagined it all.
Climbing into bed, he quietly promised himself that he would only spend a half hour with the magazine. Tomorrow was another packed day, he knew that he had to be wide awake and fully engaged. He found himself eager to learn more about Annika, Jabulani and South Africa.
Placing the magazine in his lap, he pulled the cover back. A blank page greeted him. Then out of no where, words floated across the top of the page.
“Welcome back,” the magazine seemed to smile in greeting.
“Hi,” Ken responded with reservation.
“Wow, you have a lot stirring about in your heart, mind and soul. How are you feeling right now,” inquired the magazine.
“I’m so confused and lost, yet, I also feel this incredible excitement brewing, as though something exciting is about to happen. It feels like the world is opening up to me, like good things are coming my way, I don’t know how to truly explain,” sputtered Ken in an audible whisper.
“I know, isn’t it fun to open oneself to the creative energy of the universe. To align with what brings you joy. To connect to your inner self and live from that place of curiosity, joy, presence and love,” cooed the magazine.
“I don’t know how to go about finding my dad. I had a dream, or was it a memory before I landed this morning, that recalled a conversation with my dad, where he actually warned and explained to me why he was leaving. He also said, that he would always stay in touch, but, he didn’t,” shared Ken.
“Often things are not as they seem to your human observation, or understanding. Remember, as we discussed yesterday, you can only see and know from your own perspective, no one else’s. You cannot know your dad’s journey, what he did or did not do..,” trailed the words across the page.
Ken looked up from the glossy page. Letting the words he just read soak into his brain. “What was the magazine trying to tell him? Was there something that he did not know about his dad’s leaving? Had his dad tried to stay in touch, but, something happened,” his thoughts ping ponged across his skull.
“You will not know your dad’s truth unless you ask him,” the magazine compassionately responded to Ken’s unsettled exploration.
Jolted again by the magazines ability to feel and know his thoughts, Ken found himself initially irritated by the words on the page, then he softened, for they spoke the truth.
“I know, but, I have no idea how to find him and I’m a bit afraid to learn all that happened. Maybe all this time I have been right, or, what if I totally misjudged the situation, then I ruined all the years we could have been connected,” he stammered to the page. Shaking his head, more rolled off his tongue, “wait a minute, it was his responsibility to reach out to me, I was just a kid, he was the adult. How can I begin to blame myself. I was twelve years old, he could have fought for me legally, taken my mom to court. It is his fault that we did not stay in touch,” the hurt angry child within him blurted out.
“How does not knowing make you feel,” probed the page gently.
“Ugh., really!” He vented in response. “I feel angry, hurt, sad, confused, frustrated, overwhelmed, lost..,” trailed his reply.
“Do you like that feeling,” asked the next words.
“Of course not, but, what am I supposed to feel,” Ken frustratedly exhaled.
“What do you want to feel about the situation? What do you think will relieve the mixed emotions that are irritating you,” pushed the publication.
Taking in a slow, deep, gentle breath and holding it for a moment, Ken let the emotions sift, like sand in an hour glass, he felt his emotions flow through the chambers of his heart, settling into a new calm.
“I suppose the only thing I can do is try to find him, if he’s still alive and will actually talk to me,” he calmly shared.
“Ahhh.., that feels better. It is nice to feel the space within you open, to feel you let go of the story and allow yourself the opportunity for healing, understanding and change,” flowed the magazine.
“Thank you,” Ken smiled.
Looking over at his phone, he was startled to see that an hour had already passed. “Oh geez, I have to get some sleep. Tomorrow is a very full day. I am looking forward to learning more about the South African farmers, there is something about South Africa that intrigues me,” he shared, feeling the curiosity bubble up within him.
“Yes, it is fun to let our souls connect and guide us into new spaces and places,” inserted the page.
Ken found the last words very interesting, yet, he knew he already had too much zooming within, sleep might be challenging. Best not to stimulate even more curiosity.
“I agree,” quipped the page. “You already have enough going on in your being, let’s save more exploring for tomorrow,” the magazine seemed to laugh in response to Ken’s thinking.
To be continued… 27