It’s another Chronicle of the Last Gas Station today. Some thinking about meditation, and otherwise energy related things. Thanks for the sharing and the liking. I wish I could turn the likes I’m getting on Substack into shares. Hint hint. It wouldn’t bother me at all if you see my posts on X and Substack and not only liked them, but also shared them. That would be OK with me. You have my permission.
Gill was on the road with his daughter. He had a lot to sort out. He was a good guy. He had not screwed up so badly that it should be so difficult for them. He felt a road trip, for some reason, would be the thing to do.
Anyone could see there is a lot on his mind. Even simple things, like stopping to get gas, when Gill stands by the pump, peering around, eyes questioning, and defensive, indications that Gill could settle down and relax.
It’s not that he’s up to something, but it’s the kind of thing where his demeanor could attract something. Antler Pestle could see it from the fire house, all the way across Duck Road.
Inside the shop, Gill is looking around for some breakfast. He asks Paul, who, as per usual, has the morning shift.
“You guys have any of those little breakfast sandwiches?”
“We don’t.” Paul says. “We have a deal with The Establishment down the road. They make our sandwiches and all that, but they don’t open till ten on Sunday. It’s not usually busy here this time of year on Sundays. I’m really sorry.”
“I don’t want to feed her total junk food.” Gill says.
“I think there are at least some apples, maybe some other fresh stuff in that end fridge, then maybe some cheese. We have local cheese. That could be a cool breakfast.” Paul suggests.
Gill grabs three apples and a half pint of blackberries from the fridge, then finds some cheese in the next door over.
“This is awesome.” Gill says, as he drops the items at the counter and gets himself a coffee.
“Country livin’” Paul retorts, as he hands Gill some napkins while taking the payment.
“We can use the bench and table out to the side here?” Gill asks.
“You sure can.” Says Paul.
Gill leaves and calls to his daughter.
“C’mon darlin’, let’s have a little breakfast, grab a couple of paper plates from the back seat. Bring your water bottle.”
Gill slices the apples and cheese, and his pre-teen daughter puts down her gaming toy thing, and stands up on the top of the bench.
“Look at this little town, it’s so little, it’s like the toy gas station little town Lego place I had when I was little, there’s even a little fire station.” She says.
“Yep, a lot of people live like this, get down from the bench, what’re you doing? Sit down, c’mon.” Gill says.
As they eat their breakfast, Antler takes a slow walk over from the firehouse. It’s not something he does much, he usually lets people come to him. He feels compelled.
“That is a smart breakfast.” Antler says. He’s wearing his firehouse shirt. Dark blue, red patches, tucked in neatly. He stands about 5-6 feet away from the table.
“You’re a fireman!” The little kid announces.
“That’s true. 100%, I am a fireman.” Said Antler.
Gill said. “I’ll bet you don’t see much work around here, that must make it pretty easy.”
“Well, yep, that’s why it’s a volunteer situation. I’m the only one with a stipend, I look after the firehouse and the equipment, and live there. It’s pretty relaxing.”
“I could use some relaxing.” Gill says.
“Absorption.” Antler says.
“Absorption?” Maybe that’s a word for it.” Gill Replies.
Antler goes on. “Getting really still, 100% quiet, releasing everything and even taking a little nap. Let the stress go, maybe say a little prayer, but then receive. Let your next move come to you, ask ‘what have I been missing’? And then just let your next move come to you.”
“I wish it was that easy.” Gill replies.
Antler says: “Once you get into that state of receiving like that, you’ll want to stay there all the time. Just really still, and deliberate, and on purpose. Mornings will never be the same.”
The little one pronounces the word slowly. “Absorption, dad.”
The End659 Words
