The Sixth Sense
Otto stared at the lock of his gun cabinet. He gathered himself, his fingers stiff and awkward, and clumsily searched for the right key. The tremors made it more difficult to finally engage, turn, and open the cabinet. He took out the Glock, loaded the cartridge, feeling a weight he had long forgotten.
He shuffled out the back door and sat on the wooden swing, below the tall oak. An early evening crescent moon peeked out from the branches. He gazed upward. One by one, dim stars revealed themselves until they matched his numbered years.
His thoughts dulled his pain. For a moment, he remembered his six-year-old granddaughter Sophia on the same swing, laughing with his daughter, Elizabeth.
He looked up at the moon and the stars, and spoke to them. “How long have you been waiting for me? How long have I been waiting for you?” His heart ached. There was no answer.
His time on this earth was too much to endure. Even the moon and the stars abandoned him.
He closed his eyes.
He remembered the taste of honey and the smell of a rose. He recalled cuddling his newborn baby girl, watching a brilliantly colored sunset, and listening to a symphony hall bursting with music.
The moon and stars were mute. His eyes were still closed.
He searched and remembered a newborn baby. He could hear her high-pitched baby squeals echoing in the delivery room. He recalled her tiny eyes squinting and opening for the very first time. He imagined the sweet taste of mother’s milk and the smell of a newborn granddaughter suckling at his daughter’s breast.
Then he remembered a huge concert in a stadium, and the taste of beer, the smell of bodies crushed together, bodies undulating with the music. He remembered the blaring, huge pulsating amplifiers making the ground jump to the rhythm, and the flashing beams of colored lights.
Then he remembered the sweet, white frosting served from bride to groom and groom to bride. He imagined the sweet aroma of roses, carnations, and chrysanthemums mingling with wonderful barbecued meats and casseroles. He could see the bride and groom sharing deep, long kisses, and felt the joy of their family and friends. He smiled, recalling his daughter swaying in his arms: the father-daughter dance, his heart drumming to the music.
He opened his eyes and now saw stars, too many to count. Again, he asked the moon and the stars, “How long have you been waiting for me? How long have I been waiting for you?”
He fingered the pistol in his lap. A thought came to him. Close your eyes and think.
He closed his eyes and he thought.
At last, the moon and the stars answered him.
Taste, smell, touch, sight, and sound - the five senses are our gift to you, Otto. But the sixth sense is even more precious.
Otto sat, eyes closed, thinking, “Sixth sense?”
The moon and the stars responded: The five senses are a gift of life. The sixth sense is a gift even greater. It is of your soul and all it perceives.
Otto opened his eyes. “I don’t know much about souls.”
Long silence. Otto closed his eyes.
The moon and the stars replied: That’s better, Otto. Close your eyes and think. Sounds simple, but most people don’t. That is a very good starting point.
The moon and stars continued: You ask about souls, Otto? People believe in radio broadcasting, cell phones, and electromagnetic waves and frequencies. Yet they dismiss the energy of a soul, or even the existence of a soul.
Otto opened his eyes. “Prove it to me.”
Moon and stars: Didn’t I remind you to close your eyes and think? It’s for your own good, Otto.
“Oh, sorry, thanks for reminding me!” He closed his eyes and thought.
Thank you, that’s better. Where were we?
“Souls and energy.”
Right, thanks, Otto.
If you can’t see a soul, it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. You’ve heard about ESP, right?
“Extra sensory perception,” he thought.
Yes, exactly. It is a sense beyond your five senses. Most people believe they have psychic abilities. Some consider it a sixth sense. A sixth sense can’t be proven, nor even explained, but exists nevertheless. As do souls.
“Can you prove it?” he thought.
Any proof I could offer you would not be of benefit, Otto. Your sixth sense is a gift of your soul, whether you know it or not. Your soul exists whether you know it or not. They don’t need to be proven. They are.
The moon and the stars paused.
Otto, it’s making me nervous with that Glock on your lap. My sixth sense is telling me it would be better off on the ground.
Otto complied.
The sixth sense is knowledge from within. It is intuition. The sixth sense helps a soul learn, improve, and flourish. Dropping the gun was good for your soul, Otto; but if you listen carefully, you will hear your sixth sense telling you that it would be even better that you toss it into the pond.
Otto: “Yes. I was just thinking that.”
Your sixth sense knows you have a soul, and what it needs and what it lacks. Both your body and your soul need care and food.
“My sixth sense is telling me that,” he thought.
Yes.
How can I feed my soul, he wondered?
Your five senses are a good start. Find those moments of sweetness and beauty. Too many starve themselves. You have starved yourself, Otto. But you can choose not to.
“I was pretty messed up,” he thought.
Yes, you were. But you don’t have to be. Your sixth sense will lead you to what is good and beautiful; to your self, to your soul if you listen to it. Which you have done, my friend.
Otto opened his eyes.
He picked up the gun and hurled it at the moon and the stars. lt landed in the water far away with a huge splash.
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