Brother, have you seen the oily skin of despair up close? Have you heard the tone-deaf song of misery? Have you smelled the farty breath of hopelessness? If you answered yes to any of these questions, you know how I felt the night I received a most unusual visit. Let me tell you about it…..
It was a dreary midnight as I sat pondering a quaint and curious volume - namely my dissertation. I’d been staring at it for seven consecutive hours without writing a single sentence and was tired and confused. Was I wasting my life? Weary, I began to nod off, nearly napping when I heard a tapping on my window.
Curiosity overcame me and I opened the window. At first all I heard was wind chimes. Which was weird, because I don’t have wind chimes. But I was too weary to wonder why, so I sat back down in my chair. And that’s when I saw her. She was wrapped in a shawl from her head to her foot, with a long train of chiffon and eyes black as soot. In the soft glow of moonlight my heart beat so quick that I knew in a moment, it must be Stevie Nicks.
“Aren’t you….?” I stammered.
“Call me Miss Stephanie” she said.
“Miss Stephanie….” I stammered “how can I know its really you?”
“Put your finger in my wound” she said, pointing to a place over her heart.
I demurred, and instead asked where she got this scar over her heart, the one that refused to heal.
“Lindsey” was all she said. It was all she had to say. I cast her a knowing glance and never doubted her after that.
“Miss Stephanie, my life has lost its magic”. Not much small talk, but when Stevie Nicks comes floating in your bedroom window, you kind of want to get to the point.
“Have no fear precious one, magic is my specialty” she said “try lighting a little of this”.
I don’t know what it was. Patchouli? Frankincense? Chanel #5? Whatever it was, it filled me with a strange combination of dizziness and delight. The air in the room seemed to turn to liquid and the walls spun around my head. Plus, a strange thing seemed to be happening. I couldn’t be sure, but it seemed like Miss Stephanie was rummaging through my wife’s dresser drawers. She was stuffing a large Gucci bag full of silk scarves and frilly blouses with the rabid energy of a vampire who was only kept alive by floral prints…. “Must be my imagination” I thought and continued tapping her for wisdom and guidance.
“Miss Stephanie, I’m stuck in a rut” I admitted.
“I challenge you to make your life a masterpiece. I challenge you to join the ranks of those people who live what they teach, who walk their talk.” She said.
Wow. Did she come up with this stuff on the spot or was it the wisdom of some Celtic druid or native shaman that had been passed down to her during some solemn twilight ritual? Maybe later I’d Google her words to find out, but for now I was drinking it in like a man given water after a month in the desert.
“Remember darling…” she continued “…surmounting difficulty is the crucible that forms character.”
Remarkable. She continued on like that for what seemed an eternity and as she spoke, a sense of deep contentment filled me and I was overcome with a burning desire to wake from my stupor and finally fulfill my true potential.
After basking in this warm glow for a while, I realized I’d been a bad host. Even an apparition deserves to be treated politely, so I asked if she needed anything.
“Got any Percocet?” she said eagerly.
I didn’t, and I told her so. And then, as quickly as she’d appeared, she was gone. I wasn’t disappointed, however. I was invigorated, and I knew my life had been changed forever by…a visit from Miss Stephanie.
