I’ve been planning to acknowledge her on her birthday 23 Feb. It is hard to describe just how special this being Mosey (Monique) is. After failing to find the words, I decided to share a short chapter of a book I’ve been working on. I think it gives one at least a glimpse of what I am talking about
Chapter ___
She said I need you to hold me
I’m a little far from the shore
and I’m afraid of sinking
You’re the only one who knows me
and who doesn’t ignore
that my soul is weeping
– Jamie Houston, Buck Johnson and Damon Johnson
In the Spring of 2006 I lay dying in bed. I hadn’t moved for a week but to occasionally struggle up to use the bathroom, and perhaps ingest a bit of sustenance. When I did rise the entire room swayed as if I were aboard a vessel in a stormy sea. Within minutes I would be so exhausted I would stagger for the bed to lie down once again. For forty-eight hours I hadn’t risen at all, having no more appetite there was nothing to expel from my body. The entire time Chiquita sat on the corner of the bed, looking at me sorrowfully with her usually perky golden ears now drooping like a hound dog. At first she tried to revive me by licking the side of my face. When she failed after several days of effort, she stopped eating too. By then, lying down did not stop the dizziness.
Monique tried to persuade me to see a doctor. She thought perhaps I had West Nile fever because of all the tromping around the local bayous I had done with my camera and dog in tow. Bayous had been my sanctuary, where I’d go for space, contemplation and solitude. But, I knew there was nothing physically wrong with me, technically. By then I was not aware enough to pinpoint it precisely, but the cause later became clear; I was dying of a broken heart and spirit. It started when I decided that I had placed myself in an untenable position and had utterly failed.
I had reasoned that I could not totally commit to Monique. Yes, she was the light of my life. Yes, she was the embodiment of the unconditional love that each of us harbors a longing to obtain, even if kept as a low burning desire deep down within our souls. It was the ultimate in dichotomy. The closer we became, the more guilty I felt for denying her access to Scientology. I was a Suppressive Person (an excommunicated one) according to the Church, meaning anyone connected to me would be automatically denied access to Scientology because of it. I could imagine under no circumstances reconciling that split. I had earlier ultimately decided the only way I could possibly impinge on Scientology’s leader Miscavige to reform his escalating sadistic conduct was to create a shock by leaving. Even if I had a desire to return it was impossible to do without becoming a prisoner because of what I knew – something I was unwilling to ever again become. Because I had seen indications that my leaving had precisely the opposite effect, and Miscavige had instead accelerated his madness, I recognized that I had accomplished nothing.
In fact, it was worse than nothing, because as long as Monique remained my partner she would be unqualified to participate in Scientology. If ever there were a special being who deserved to sample the spiritual gains possible through Scientology, it was Monique. Matter of fact, from the few writings she had read, and the teachings I passed on to her in conversation, she was far more of what Scientology founder Hubbard defined as a “Scientologist” than just about anyone I had known in my twenty-seven year experience within the organization. But as I had become more familiar with her life I knew she, like any one else I had ever met, would benefit greatly from formal auditing up the Scientology grade chart.
It did not become clear to me till later that I was removing myself as her problem. I loved her so much that I unwittingly willed my own death so that she might one day experience that which my very existence was denying her. This was no high minded martyrdom going on. I was not even consciously aware of the decision. All I knew at that time was that on one particular morning the body was going to complete the process of shutting down, I (the spirit) was going to slip out and move along. Monique’s hurt and Chiquita’s mourning were painful, but for the greatest good I knew I was simply an impediment to the advance of a far more gifted and wonderful person.
Monique kissed me on the forehead before taking off for work that morning.
Man, I felt bad about leaving – but I resigned myself to the fact it was inevitable. I felt like I was living in a surrealistic haze. There was no sound, but the occasional low, muffled whining of Chiquita – she sensed something was wrong. There was no time, no space, no energy, and finally no matter. All I felt was absolute exhaustion and weakness, no ability to even maintain involuntary nervous system function. Then, I began to sense myself slowly rising through the top of my skull. I could faintly make out the room from a point of view a foot above my head. It was all ethereal shadows. Chiquita’s whimpers startled me and held me in equilibrium; I was in suspended animation in that spot for some time. Finally, I began to ever so slowly float above that spot, I could see the room with my own body lying in the bed below all in black, white, and gray shadows.
Suddenly, I – me, the spirit not part of the body – sensed an urgency some distance off. Just then, the sliding door between the living room and driveway opened. Seconds later Monique appeared in the doorway. She looked toward me, not the body. She said “Mark, don’t leave me. I need you to please stay with me.” I had never experienced more love directed at me, ever. In a heartbeat I was back just above my head, comfortably. Monique was holding my head to her cheek with her hands. I felt an indescribable warmth and life force course through my body, starting with the head and flowing to my fingers and toes.
Monique pulled back, continuing to hold my head in her hands, she looked directly at me, face to face. Suddenly, I could see with perfect clarity. First, the physical beauty. Then as we continued to gaze at one another, I perceived a spirit and it occupied the entire room. While my body was still weak, I felt more alive than I ever had in my life.
Moving On Up a Little Higher 