Remembering Alimaka
A joyful tale of trans-dimensional teamwork
I have not seen Alimaka in a lifetime, but his memory is still there; etched into my being. We worked together in the Temple of Records for several years. Alimaka is the one who trained me in my duties there. Although he was a teacher, of sorts, to me, he always seemed so much younger than me in fact youth would be my choice of words to best describe his countenance. He was filled with the vibrancy of youth; always excited, animated, and curious beyond measure. I greatly value those years I was able to spend with him before he left the Temple of Records and took on a new life in the physical realms — the place Alimaka dreamed of returning to.
I had just recently returned from a physical life when I accepted the assignment at the Temple of Records. I was delighted to work there and I was happy being on the spirit side of things. To be honest, I wish he would have stayed a little longer at the Temple, for I simply cannot get enough of his stories. Even now, I am remembering them all. After lunch each day we would spend some time together in his little garden which he had materialized on the Temple grounds. It was a beautiful place, but it was the beauty of his stories that I sought, and I found myself floating off to distant times and places. Sometimes it was hard to go back to work.
I remember the sunny hour we spent in that garden the day Alimaka told me that he was leaving and re-entering physicality. Even though going back to the physical world is just about all he talked about, I still managed to be surprised by the news. I knew it was inevitable, but I kept it shoved out of my awareness.
Alimaka’s garden was much like Alimaka; vibrant and colorful. Flowers were always blooming and in every color and shade imaginable. In the center of the garden was a small pond, its calm water harboring goldfish and reflecting cascading willow branches and blue sky. The pond was fed by a beautiful fountain, which was in the form of three stone statues of small children playing. Water was spraying out from their eyes and ears and mouths and the palms of their hands. There was also water coming out of their navels and the bottoms of their feet. The statues sat upon a stone pedestal protruding out of the pond. The water spraying off the stone children created small rainbows as shafts of sunlight piercing through the tree canopy touched upon the water.
There were always birds singing in Alimaka’s garden, and there were butterflies flitting about and there were even occasional bees. I remember always being bombarded with glorious smells. I could smell the earth, the water, the grass, the large stones placed about, and countless flower fragrances. It never seemed to smell the same twice. Nowhere did Alimaka seem more comfortable and at home than in his garden.
Under a large flowering crab-apple tree there was a small circular area that was paved with flagstones. At the edge of this area there were two stone benches that looked across the paved area towards the pond. Sitting on a round stone table between the benches and the pond was a small potted peach tree. The tree had been shaped in the bonsai tradition and was very small, but it was completely covered with blossoms. Alimaka always sat on the stone bench to my left and he would often be looking at the pond as he spoke.
The day he told me the news he was too agitated to sit, though. We were standing before the peach tree admiring the twisted branches of blossoms.
“The peach tree is telling me that I am at the end of one cycle and at the beginning of a new one. Though I am flowering now, I will soon be in a birthing process. It is time for me to go back into the physical realms.”
I turned my gaze from the peach tree to his face. All I could manage to say was, “When?”
“Very soon,” He gestured towards the tree, “When the blossoms fall off and reveal the tiny beginnings of fruit. I did not tell you sooner because I did not want you to feel pressured in learning the Temple system, which, of course, you will take over the stewardship of. You will take over my position of guiding all the other workers. And, too, you will need to find someone to groom to take over your position when it is time for you to return to the physical.”
I knew the day was coming for Alimaka had told of his plans since the beginning, yet I did not feel ready for it.
As though reading my thoughts, Alimaka replied, “Oh, you are ready, my friend.”
“I certainly hope so.”
“Picture a figure 8. You are traveling on that figure 8, going up and around, then down and around, back and forth, forever going around on the figure 8. Now, when you enter the top portion of the 8, you are entering the spirit side of things, which is where we are now. When you enter the bottom portion of the 8, you enter physicality and take on a life as a human for the duration of the trip around the bottom of the 8. Then when that trip is finished, you enter the top part of the 8 again and begin a new cycle without a body.”
Alimaka stopped talking for a moment as a great many birds suddenly filled the surrounding trees. Their collective song grew momentarily very loud, but then there was a very brief moment of silence. This silence was ended by a simultaneous flapping of wings as the birds suddenly flew off to other parts of the garden.
Alimaka continued, “You and I are traveling on the same figure 8, and in the same direction. We have spaced how far apart we are, though, to enable us to meet around the time we are both headed for the center point of the figure 8 where we cross to go to either the top part, or the bottom part of the 8.”
“So our time together is always pretty short. And it is always around that time when one of us is entering spirit while the other is about to enter physicality.”
Another silence ensued. At this point I had nothing to say or ask.
Turning to look at me, Alimaka continued, “The nice thing is that even though I may be at the very top of the 8 and you at the very bottom, we can still work together and connect through the energy of the 8 itself. That is how we were able to work together in your last life recently ended, and that is how we will be working together with me being in a body. All we’ve been doing is exchanging positions. The work we’ve been doing continues on.”
With this, Alimaka turned and began walking. I followed.
We walked slowly around the pond. When we got to a point directly opposite of where we had been standing before when we were by the peach tree, Alimaka stopped and turned to look out over the pond. After a moment he began speaking again:
“Now imagine a body of water in the middle of both circles that make up the figure 8. Each journey through either spirit or physicality is a journey around that corresponding body of water.”
“You have expressed to me that you like my stories. Well, let me express to you that I love telling them. I have told many a story in my time here on this half of the 8, and a few I told through you to listeners in the physical half of the 8. Stories are what it is all about.” He smiled.
How much Alimaka loved telling stories was obvious from listening to him tell them. I am just a story teller wannabe compared to him. And to tell the truth, he is one of the main reasons I even pursue storytelling.
Alimaka looked into my eyes, “It is your turn to tell stories and it is my turn to go live a story. I am ready for a truly grand story.”
“Yes, I know. You have been preparing. I can only imagine any life you live to be grand.”
Alimaka’s eyebrows raised and he cocked his head to the side, “Are you forgetting that life in Russia when I was a worthless derelict?”
I smiled. I had forgotten about that life. But then I remember him telling the story of that life, “But you told a great story with that life, Alimaka.”
He smiled, “Yes, all stories are wonderful, when seen from a certain perspective. And that’s the challenge, no? One can live just as fulfilling a life as a derelict as a prominent psychic.”
This was an inside joke that I did not miss. “So have you finalized your blueprint for your upcoming life?”
“There are still a few tweaks that I may do, but the basic blueprint is the same. I still intend to have a life of many and extreme challenges; one that is worth telling a story about. And in the telling there will be a message. Instead of telling a story, I am going to be a story and let others tell it.” He began walking but immediately stopped and looked back at me, “That’s something you know about, well now it’s my turn.” Smiling, he proceeded walking.
It was another inside joke. I laughed and followed him as he began walking around the pond back to the peach tree. We did not speak. The only sounds were the sounds of our sandals on the flagstones and the birds singing in the trees. I remember when I connected with Alimaka in my previous life as a medium I often would briefly hear the sound of birds, even though I was inside a building with no birds to hear. I knew that I was hearing his garden, which seemed so much a part of him.
I stopped as I suddenly realized that soon I would be able to visit his garden all the time, but that he wouldn’t.
Alimaka stopped and turned to me, “There will always be a garden around me for I will always turn the space around me into a garden. Even in this next life during the times I spend in the hospital, it will still be like a garden because of the flowers people will send. And besides, I plan on becoming knowledgeable enough to know how to still access this garden here in the non-physical when I need to.”
He continued to walk and I followed. As we returned to the peach tree, Alimaka turned to me and pressed his hands together, prayer style, in front of him. He smiled, “So in the meantime, this garden is yours to use,” he paused, “but know that the garden will respond to you and this peach tree…”
Alimaka looked at the peach tree and fell silent. I looked at him, then at the peach tree, then back at him.
Finally, Alimaka turned to me and continued, “…this peach tree will become one with you, and it will become your oracle and time-clock. The peach tree will show you where you are in your journey around the figure 8 I was using as an illustration. As you see, it is blooming now. In the time ahead it will bear fruit and this fruit will be specifically for you and your time here in the garden. Then the tree will lose its leaves and go dormant. This is when you begin planning your next life and finish up your studies here. As the first new leaves begin appearing on the peach tree, know that the birthing has begun and soon the tree will be blooming again and it will be time to enter a new life. And, of course, I’ll be showing up back here around that time.”
Alimaka began walking but stopped to turn to me, “Shall we go inside the temple?
While I loved Alimaka’s garden and his storytelling, I also truly loved the temple. To me, it was the grandest library in the world. Except for the many books, most everything in the temple was made of polished marble; the walls, the floors, the shelves, and the long counter where people stepped up to be helped by temple workers. The floor marble was black but all the rest was white. It always amazed me how the black marble floor absorbed all sounds and footsteps were never heard.
Alimaka and I entered the temple lobby. There were only four people standing at the counter being helped by Temple workers. I looked at the many rows of marble bookshelves behind the counter. On those bookshelves was a book for every soul. There was also a book for every story.
I once went into a giant bookstore in my last life in the physical and was reminded of the temple. I even worked in a bookstore in that life, but it was very different. In the temple there is no need for a system of cataloguing or categorizing the books. In the temple books were found with psychic ability. You just had to hold the name of the soul whose book you were looking for in your mind and you were led right to the book. My hand always went for the right book.
With the book found I would return to the counter and open the book on the counter. The person seeking information would then ask questions. These questions would guide my hand to the right page where the answer was. The rest of the text on the page was blurred and unreadable, but the sentences with the answers were crystal clear and even highlighted. The text in these books was not permanent. Words would change before my very eyes. Some words, when I looked at them, turned to images. I loved those books. They always had the answers.
“Oh, here comes Mrs. Flanagan,” said Alimaka.
My book reverie was broken. I turned to see a short roly-poly woman walk into the temple lobby. I loved Mrs. Flanagan. She was a very jolly person. She was a psychic in a physical life who came to the temple to get information for her clients. She came in a lot.
Alimaka and I walked to the worker’s station behind the counter. Mrs. Flanagan was such a steady customer that Alimaka always helped her personally.
In an exaggerated jovial voice Alimaka greeted her, “Greetings, Mrs. Flanagan, I trust your love has brought you here for information to help a beloved soul.”
“No, my dear Alimaka,” replied Mrs. Flanagan in her soft high-pitched voice. “I have come for a look at your handsome face.”
Alimaka and Mrs. Flanagan always carried on like this.
“Well, I have some news for you before we begin.”
“Oh?” Her head cocked to one side.
“I’m afraid that you won’t be seeing my handsome face for much longer.”
“What?!” A look of alarm erupted on Mrs. Flanagan’s face.
“My friend here will be taking over for me.” Alimaka placed his hand on my shoulder. “He’s not as handsome as me and he’s not as funny, but he knows the temple like the back of his hand. He’ll be able to answer all your questions just the same as me.”
“Oh my!” Mrs. Flanagan’s mouth was frozen open for a minute as she looked back and forth between me and Alimaka. Abruptly, she came out of her shock and extended her hand out to me. “Excuse me, I’m a little startled. It’s nice to meet you although I’ve seen you in here before.”
“And it’s nice to meet you,” I replied as I took her small chubby hand. “I assure you I will do my best to help you in any way that I can.”
Mrs. Flanagan turned to Alimaka, “Will my people notice any change in my readings?”
Alimaka smiled, “I doubt it. The information will be identical. There may be a very subtle difference in style that may be noticeable over time. And, of course, the humor might be different.”
“Well, my people will certainly notice if the sense of humor is suddenly gone.”
With this, I chimed in, “I assure you that I have a sense of humor, too. I’ve worked with Alimaka for so long over so many lives that I like to think some of his delightful sense of humor has rubbed off on me.”
With a sudden fierce look in her eyes, Mrs. Flanagan moved closer to me, and with a very determined tone in her voice replied, “Well, you better be funny!”
I was stunned. My mouth opened but I didn’t know what to say. She was staring right into my eyes with the meanest look on her face.
Then suddenly she broke out laughing. It was a high-pitched laugh that reverberated throughout the temple. Her body jiggled when she laughed. I still didn’t know what to say.
Mrs. Flanagan then looked at Alimaka, “Don’t worry, I’ll set him straight.” With this, both Alimaka and Mrs. Flanagan erupted in laughter.
Mrs. Flanagan clasped her hands to her cheeks, “Oh, Alimaka, I will miss you so much. When will I see you again?”
“Maybe sooner than you think. And I will still be here for a few more readings, so we will talk again.”
She dropped her hands. “Okay, but I want one of your special readings before you go.” Mrs. Flanagan blinked her left eye repeatedly in an exaggerated fashion.
“As you wish.” Alimaka smiled at her. “For now we better attend to your clients. Who are we reading for today?”
Mrs. Flanagan winked at me now, “Alimaka here knows how to get the ball rolling.” Then she turned to Alimaka and said, “A Mrs. Glenda Hughes.”
Alimaka opened his mouth a bit and froze. He seemed to go pale suddenly.
“What is it?” asked Mrs. Flanagan.
Alimaka did not answer. He just stared off into space. After a moment I stepped closer to him and asked, “Alimaka, are you alright?”
Finally, he snapped out of it. Slowly, he said, “Glenda Hughes will be my mother.”
Mrs. Flanagan raised her gloved hands in the air. “And very soon because she’s eight months pregnant!”
With an amazed look on his face, Alimaka replied, “My future mother has come to you for a reading?”
Bringing her hands down, she replied, “Apparently so. And she wants to know what kind of a child she will have. I had no idea it would be you. Oh my word, you’ll be incarnating right here in my little town! I don’t believe it.”
“Tell my mother that I will love her very much and that I will make her proud.” Alimaka paused, “And tell her that I will have two accidents as a child and, although they may seem horrible, I will indeed survive both and I will not be as hurt as it first appears. Tell her that she doesn’t have to worry about me; that I will outlive her. Tell her that, though she will be consumed with the duties of home for some time, she will again take up her passions and she will prosper as long as she stays away from guilt. And you and I, Mrs. Flanagan will have lunch on your porch some day.” Alimaka smiled.
Mrs. Flanagan was glowing, “Oh, I am so happy. I guess I should go get this message delivered, lest they think I went into a coma,” she giggled, “But one last thing; she wanted to know about the name.”
“You can tell her the one she has been thinking about is the one I want.” Putting his hands up to his temples, Alimaka looked at me, “I’ve been sending her a certain name now for some time.” He smiled.
“Okay, Well, listen Alimaka. I’ve got another appointment tomorrow so maybe afterwards you and I could have a little private chat? I want to get some more answers out of you before you turn into a giggling little baby.”
“It will be my pleasure.” Alimaka bowed.
Mrs. Flanagan bowed back and then she bowed towards me. With her gloved right hand she saluted us both and then turned and walked out of the temple.
As she left the Temple I let out a chuckle. What a character she was! When I looked over at Alimaka, though, I saw that he was not laughing. He looked immersed in thought. I think the reality that he was about to be a helpless little baby was really sinking in.
Slowly, Alimaka came out of his reverie and then began walking towards me. “Let’s go back out to the garden so we can talk in private.”
I followed Alimaka out to the garden. He walked to the peach tree, stopping a few feet before it. He stood there in silence for a moment facing the peach tree. The birds in the trees hushed their singing. Then he turned to me and said, “Mrs. Flanagan will invite me to have lunch with her on her porch when I am nine years old. One month later she will die.”
This news surprised me but Alimaka spoke very matter-of-factly, “That’s when she will come back here,” he pointed at the ground, “and work with you.” His finger now pointed at me. It will be you and Mrs. Flanagan who will work together from this side,” once again Alimaka pointed at the ground, “to help me,” he now pointed at himself, “when I start channeling. Then it will be I who come to the Temple and you and Mrs. Flanagan who help me. It’s kind of like musical chairs.”
“So you are going to do readings for people?” I asked.
Alimaka was quick to answer, “Oh no. That’s the other thing I need to tell you. Instead of getting readings for people I intend to channel stories instead. When it is ready I will show you the book of stories that I have prepared which you and Mrs. Flanagan will be able to use. I will come and tap into the stories so that I can bring them forth in the physical. Tomorrow I will show you how you and Mrs. Flanagan will be facilitating my extraction of those stories. It will be a little different, sure, but not too different.”
Alimaka looked out over the pond. I turned my gaze out there, too, and I began hearing the spraying water of the stone children water fountains. Looking at them, I saw a new significance in them. They represent that strange cycle everyone goes through after birthing into the physical; childhood. Alimaka once told me that was the prize of every life. “Only in childhood does our joy flow out of us unconditionally,” he said. (Just like the water flowing out of the stone children!)
Alimaka looked back at me, “It’s when I have my accident at age 22 and have that near-death experience that I’ll be able to talk to you and Mrs. Flanagan again. That is when you will remind me of my plans to access these stories.” He looked at the tree, “That is unless I can remember them myself before then.” He looked back at me with a thin smile.
“Would that negate the need for the accident?” I was hopeful.
“Yes, yes it could, although I could still have it if I wanted. With free will I don’t have to have the accident at all but if I am so unaware that I need a near-death experience to remember, a near-death experience is a perfect vehicle. If that’s what it takes to find my way back here to get those stories then it will be worth it.”
I was still hopeful, “But the possibility still exists that you can find your way here without the accident.”
He smiled, “I could show up at any time.”
We fell into silence. Looking out over the pond my gaze fell on the stone children water fountains. There were several birds bathing in the spray of the water gushing out of the children.
As Alimaka spoke up I realized he was looking at the same thing, “So few people understand how important birds are. Imagine a world with no birds and no birdsong. Birds hold a certain vibratory frequency that is a vital component of the holographic grid. Their song is crucial in the illusion of reality.”
“You know,” he continued, “being born into the non-physical is easy. You just walk through the membrane and you’re here.” Alimaka made appropriate hand gestures indicating tearing through a membrane. “But being born into the physical is a whole different ball of wax. First, there’s that whole birth thing and that little tiny helpless creature you’ve got to be in until it slowly grows up. The people over there are so afraid of death but it is birth they are really afraid of for subconsciously they remember their birth into the physical so they attribute those grim memories to any impending birth into the non-physical, forgetting how easy it really is.”
Alimaka turned to look at me, “That is one of the main differences between here and there. There are no childhoods here; no progression of growth. The only place you can have a real childhood is over there in the physical. That is one of the grandest things about being over there yet it is also something that generates a lot of fear. We can see it as an obstacle to struggle against or we can see it as our vacation time; our time to play with abandon, to let the joy gush through us.”
Looking back at the stone children water fountains, I replied, “So the trick is to keep that joy gushing throughout one’s life.”
Alimaka laughed, “Yes, the elusive fountain of youth.”
Another moment of silence fell over us. I stared at the stone children water fountain and the many birds positioning themselves for showers of water. A chorus of birdsong filled the air. I was overcome with joy but I also felt sad, too.
And then I felt Alimaka’s hand on my shoulder, “I will leave you now to contemplate the garden. My time is running short and I have a lot to do. You know, that is another difference between here and there; here you know when you are going to die from the non-physical and be born again into physicality, so you must spend a lot of time saying good-bye to a lot of people, but there you can die suddenly and there is no time to say good-bye to all your friends.” He laughed, “Or so it would appear. We really know when it is going to happen over there, too; we just pretend not to know so that we can avoid all the good-byes.”
It was my turn to laugh. “Alimaka, you see all the perspectives, don’t you?”
“Actually, I am always looking for new ones.” He joined me in laughter. He then shook my hand. “I will talk with you more soon. I must be off to begin my good-byes.”
With this, he let go of my hand and walked off down the garden path. When he was gone I sat down on one of the stone benches and returned my gaze to the pond and the trees and the flowers and the birds and the stone children water fountains. I sat there and remembered Alimaka just like I would for many years after he left. I sat in his garden every day for my time at the Temple. How could I not think of him?
Eventually, I came to long for a new physical life as much as Alimaka had. For years Mrs. Flanagan and I worked at the Temple and a lot of wonderful things happened. She was soon trained to take over and I began spending even more time in Alimaka’s garden. That is where I planned my next life. I had watched the peach tree go through its cycles and when it erupted in blossom I knew my time was quickly approaching. By this time I was very ready and eager for a new physical life but there was also an element of sadness for I knew that, although I was about to see Alimaka again, it would only be for a very short time and then I would be saying good-bye to him yet again.
Copyright 2008 by White Feather. All Rights Reserved. This is a work of fiction. It is excerpted with permission from my book, Alimaka Stories. (Paperback — ebook)
