When young Rolfing was five or six, he was introduced to the traumatizing
conformity of first grade. Regardless of convention, defiant of imitation, he
quickly learned, on his first day, in fact, that there was an oasis in the
cerebral aridity that he found himself involved in. This oasis was the bathroom.
"Mr. Whitworth, are you still in there?", came Mrs. Grueldocker's not-too-pleasant
voice from outside the too-short door. "It's no use..." conceded Rollie "I have to
go back." If he had known any swear words at the time, he might have blurted one
out in dismay, but, instead, settled for, "Yes, Ma'am. Be right there."
The solitude that had been afforded during that brief interlude, however, served
to foster two badly-needed qualities in little Rolfing's life; security and
privacy. A time and space to dream, where his recurrent flights-of-fancy
could take off, uninhibited.
When Mrs. Grueldocker brought him in front of the class, upon his return from
his "trip", and asked him what had taken him so long, he was at-first shaken,
not exactly, sure, himself, what he had done, seen, thought and felt, within
that cheap but smooth, grey confine.
The teacher directed him back to his seat. Torn between the choice of the seat
of his fancy and the seat of his fate, he opted for the latter, waiting, wondering
but knowing. Knowing that he would return, sometime soon, to the place that
made him feel as though he "was" someone.
While the rest of the school-children rushed home at the end of the day,
Rollie sauntered along the sidewalk, running a stick softly against a fence that
outlined the schoolyard. Outside the schoolyard, almost out-of-view, sitting on
an old, abandoned fireplace in a field, was a girl. A familiar voice called Rolfing
Whitworth over.
Walking over casually, Rollie smiled, being the friendly sort.
He was thrilled that someone had taken an interest in him. "Hi Rollie." she
said, still sitting. "Hi Beth." he replied, unable to think of something more clever
than that to impress his classmate. "Pull up a chimney!" she said, and Rollie sat
down and dropped his stick.
I don't know, exactly, what you were doing in the bathroom, today, your High..."
(pause), but I do know why you were in there. At least, I think I do."
Rollie stared at her in amazement, as a chill reached through-out his body. "You
almost called me 'your highness! Didn't you?! Didn't you?!" he yelled. A swell
of recognition registered in Rollie. His secret was loose.
He was half crying in relief and half hysterically laughing, in disbelief.., a disbelief that
he somehow knew was soon going to vanish. Now, both of them were crying, their
arms wrapped around eachother in an acknowledgement of love that only centuries
of time could have nurtured.
"Rollie..," she continued, wiping back the tears.. "Don't be embarassed by what I'm
going to tell you.. My mother taught me to be a psychic. Do you know what that
is?" "No." Rollie shook his head. "It means I know things that most people don't know."
"Do you know what a past-life is" she then asked. Rollie scowled and said, No."
"Your spirit is eternal, Rollie. Before your spirit was in your body, it was in someone else's.
That means you continue living, throughout the ages." Rollie was dumb-struck.
Biting her lip, Beth Kayler continued, "Before you tell me what happened to you in
the bathroom, I had better tell you now, just who I am, who you are, and what our
relationship is:"
"In the year of 'our lord' twelve-hundred and eighty-two, you were in-
stalled by the tyrannical King Edward l as a reigning, if minor, monarch, in Wales.
Although there is no record of you in the history books, I can assure you that you
did exist."
"Your name was King Roland. Edward picked you because you were just a sidewalk painter, and wouldn't hurt a fly. He thought he could control you, once his army had invaded and occupied Wales. I was Molina Deybens. I was basically your consort. It is kind of like a girlfriend."
"Anyway, I was a gypsy and had true psychic powers. One day, after you had been
poisoned because you would not enforce and abide by King Edward's wishes, I was at your bedside as you lay dying. I vowed to help you regain your throne, someday. You had been good to me, Rolfing, and you had been good to the Welsh people."
"I think I've retained some of those psychic abilities in this life. That's how I know
who you are and that this is a crucial part of your life, Rolfing. Now Rollie, you must tell
me what happened to you in the bathroom today! I know something important happened! Your aura was all over the classroom when you came back."
Feeling uneasy about this, and having no idea what an "aura" is, Rolfing nevertheless reached deep within himself in a massive effort of truer realization that Beth, also, was investing her entire psychic entourage in.
Rolfing felt, yes, knew, that he had to answer her question.
"Actually..." said Rollie, "I feel glad to be able to talk to someone about it....but not here, though. Let's borrow one of those rowboats over there." "Okay, your highness." was Beth's indebted reply, and they walked over to the pond.
As they sat in the wooden rowboat, Rollie, at first racing, slowed his thoughts and
speech, settling down to a fairly coherent and cohesive description of his experiences
"en el bano". "At first, Beth, it seemed as thought the bathroom door opened up for me,
all by itself."
"I thought that maybe somebody was behind it, pulling a prank, ready to slam it as I walked through, but I looked, and no one was there., Then, I sensed that someone was looking at me, so I turned, and I saw a man sitting in one of the three stalls, in a white cloak with a big, red cross on the front. Does that mean anything to you?"
"Anyway.., when he saw me, he shut the door to his stall. 'Good idea...' I thought. I took a seat in an adjacent stall, and he shouted in a strange accent, "Yer got the stick, mate?" Vexed, I replied, "What stick?!" So, he said, "Yer don't expect me to wipe me arse wif' me 'and, do you?"
"By now, I thought this guy was a real nut, but he seemed to have a sense of humor. I laughed. I said, "Yeah.., stick yer thumb up her butt and wiggle it till it falls off..", trying to imitate his accent. He wasn't amused."
"He screamed, 'Please, sir.., Give me sumpin' to wipe me arse wif!' There was an extra roll of toilet paper on the floor, so I chucked it to him, over the separation. I heard a loud clank, and I think I knocked his helmet off. He said, 'Bloody right.' What does that mean?"
"This man had a strange, empowering-yet-calming effect on me. It felt like I hadn't laughed in ages, until then. Then.., the toilet didn't seem like a toilet, anymore. I went into a slightly altered state, with my head dropped down, in-between my thighs, with my arms crossed under my chest."
"When I 'woke up', I was dressed in a.., big, fluffy uniform and was holding a gold rod that had carvings and designs on it. There were strange and beautiful paintings and sculptures adorned in gold, all over the inside of the stall. The ceiling looked like the Cistine Chapel! The toilet was no longer. Instead, it was a throne! It had a seat of cushioned, purple velvet. It felt awesome."
"Just as I was getting comfortable, the man in the white outfit said, 'Sire, someone approaches. I must leave you for now.., but if you ever need me, just say,
'I call St. Randolph. He is my aide.
With him, no one, my kingdom will invade."
"That's when Mrs. Grueldocker walked in. The stall, and my clothing, turned back to normal. St. Randolph, or whomever he is, must have disappeared. At least, I didn't see any 'feet'. What do you make of it all?"
Beth, feeling an unusual combination of wonderment and amusement, teased, "Oh, the poem's cute, Rollie, but it sounds as though you made it up, yourself." "It was actually kind of nice!" commented Rollie. "Even the toilet paper turned into royal decrees! Do you think I was King Roland, again?"
"Your highness..," replied Beth, "There are cosmic forces, here, that you presently are unaware of. You met your spirit guide today, Rollie! Do you know how amazing and rare that is? I have dreamt of him, before. He's here to help us, Rollie!"
"The pact I made with you was stronger than steel, but even then, it took seven centuries for you and I to find eachother, again, and to have this opportunity. Somehow, St. Randolph and I must help you re-acquire a kingdom and a throne!"
Thinking that he had finally conjured up something intelligent to say, Rollie exclaimed, "But, there aren't any kingdoms, here! We live in the United States!" "We'll have to go to England, then." affirmed Beth.
Standing, Rollie screamed, "I can't go to England!!! I'm still in grade school! First grade school! ...and so are you!" Beth got to her feet, too, and stated, "Some things are more important than learning how to tell red from blue."
"Anyway, you have a whole lifetime to learn how to tell time, read, etc. A lifetime that could be spent as a king!" Rollie slumped back down against the cement foundation of the chimney, wondering if this all was a dream.
"I can't say that I don't mean to alarm you, Rollie, because I do. This is your time." Beth picked up her daypack and left, feeling disappointed but undaunted.
conformity of first grade. Regardless of convention, defiant of imitation, he
quickly learned, on his first day, in fact, that there was an oasis in the
cerebral aridity that he found himself involved in. This oasis was the bathroom.
"Mr. Whitworth, are you still in there?", came Mrs. Grueldocker's not-too-pleasant
voice from outside the too-short door. "It's no use..." conceded Rollie "I have to
go back." If he had known any swear words at the time, he might have blurted one
out in dismay, but, instead, settled for, "Yes, Ma'am. Be right there."
The solitude that had been afforded during that brief interlude, however, served
to foster two badly-needed qualities in little Rolfing's life; security and
privacy. A time and space to dream, where his recurrent flights-of-fancy
could take off, uninhibited.
When Mrs. Grueldocker brought him in front of the class, upon his return from
his "trip", and asked him what had taken him so long, he was at-first shaken,
not exactly, sure, himself, what he had done, seen, thought and felt, within
that cheap but smooth, grey confine.
The teacher directed him back to his seat. Torn between the choice of the seat
of his fancy and the seat of his fate, he opted for the latter, waiting, wondering
but knowing. Knowing that he would return, sometime soon, to the place that
made him feel as though he "was" someone.
While the rest of the school-children rushed home at the end of the day,
Rollie sauntered along the sidewalk, running a stick softly against a fence that
outlined the schoolyard. Outside the schoolyard, almost out-of-view, sitting on
an old, abandoned fireplace in a field, was a girl. A familiar voice called Rolfing
Whitworth over.
Walking over casually, Rollie smiled, being the friendly sort.
He was thrilled that someone had taken an interest in him. "Hi Rollie." she
said, still sitting. "Hi Beth." he replied, unable to think of something more clever
than that to impress his classmate. "Pull up a chimney!" she said, and Rollie sat
down and dropped his stick.
I don't know, exactly, what you were doing in the bathroom, today, your High..."
(pause), but I do know why you were in there. At least, I think I do."
Rollie stared at her in amazement, as a chill reached through-out his body. "You
almost called me 'your highness! Didn't you?! Didn't you?!" he yelled. A swell
of recognition registered in Rollie. His secret was loose.
He was half crying in relief and half hysterically laughing, in disbelief.., a disbelief that
he somehow knew was soon going to vanish. Now, both of them were crying, their
arms wrapped around eachother in an acknowledgement of love that only centuries
of time could have nurtured.
"Rollie..," she continued, wiping back the tears.. "Don't be embarassed by what I'm
going to tell you.. My mother taught me to be a psychic. Do you know what that
is?" "No." Rollie shook his head. "It means I know things that most people don't know."
"Do you know what a past-life is" she then asked. Rollie scowled and said, No."
"Your spirit is eternal, Rollie. Before your spirit was in your body, it was in someone else's.
That means you continue living, throughout the ages." Rollie was dumb-struck.
Biting her lip, Beth Kayler continued, "Before you tell me what happened to you in
the bathroom, I had better tell you now, just who I am, who you are, and what our
relationship is:"
"In the year of 'our lord' twelve-hundred and eighty-two, you were in-
stalled by the tyrannical King Edward l as a reigning, if minor, monarch, in Wales.
Although there is no record of you in the history books, I can assure you that you
did exist."
"Your name was King Roland. Edward picked you because you were just a sidewalk painter, and wouldn't hurt a fly. He thought he could control you, once his army had invaded and occupied Wales. I was Molina Deybens. I was basically your consort. It is kind of like a girlfriend."
"Anyway, I was a gypsy and had true psychic powers. One day, after you had been
poisoned because you would not enforce and abide by King Edward's wishes, I was at your bedside as you lay dying. I vowed to help you regain your throne, someday. You had been good to me, Rolfing, and you had been good to the Welsh people."
"I think I've retained some of those psychic abilities in this life. That's how I know
who you are and that this is a crucial part of your life, Rolfing. Now Rollie, you must tell
me what happened to you in the bathroom today! I know something important happened! Your aura was all over the classroom when you came back."
Feeling uneasy about this, and having no idea what an "aura" is, Rolfing nevertheless reached deep within himself in a massive effort of truer realization that Beth, also, was investing her entire psychic entourage in.
Rolfing felt, yes, knew, that he had to answer her question.
"Actually..." said Rollie, "I feel glad to be able to talk to someone about it....but not here, though. Let's borrow one of those rowboats over there." "Okay, your highness." was Beth's indebted reply, and they walked over to the pond.
As they sat in the wooden rowboat, Rollie, at first racing, slowed his thoughts and
speech, settling down to a fairly coherent and cohesive description of his experiences
"en el bano". "At first, Beth, it seemed as thought the bathroom door opened up for me,
all by itself."
"I thought that maybe somebody was behind it, pulling a prank, ready to slam it as I walked through, but I looked, and no one was there., Then, I sensed that someone was looking at me, so I turned, and I saw a man sitting in one of the three stalls, in a white cloak with a big, red cross on the front. Does that mean anything to you?"
"Anyway.., when he saw me, he shut the door to his stall. 'Good idea...' I thought. I took a seat in an adjacent stall, and he shouted in a strange accent, "Yer got the stick, mate?" Vexed, I replied, "What stick?!" So, he said, "Yer don't expect me to wipe me arse wif' me 'and, do you?"
"By now, I thought this guy was a real nut, but he seemed to have a sense of humor. I laughed. I said, "Yeah.., stick yer thumb up her butt and wiggle it till it falls off..", trying to imitate his accent. He wasn't amused."
"He screamed, 'Please, sir.., Give me sumpin' to wipe me arse wif!' There was an extra roll of toilet paper on the floor, so I chucked it to him, over the separation. I heard a loud clank, and I think I knocked his helmet off. He said, 'Bloody right.' What does that mean?"
"This man had a strange, empowering-yet-calming effect on me. It felt like I hadn't laughed in ages, until then. Then.., the toilet didn't seem like a toilet, anymore. I went into a slightly altered state, with my head dropped down, in-between my thighs, with my arms crossed under my chest."
"When I 'woke up', I was dressed in a.., big, fluffy uniform and was holding a gold rod that had carvings and designs on it. There were strange and beautiful paintings and sculptures adorned in gold, all over the inside of the stall. The ceiling looked like the Cistine Chapel! The toilet was no longer. Instead, it was a throne! It had a seat of cushioned, purple velvet. It felt awesome."
"Just as I was getting comfortable, the man in the white outfit said, 'Sire, someone approaches. I must leave you for now.., but if you ever need me, just say,
'I call St. Randolph. He is my aide.
With him, no one, my kingdom will invade."
"That's when Mrs. Grueldocker walked in. The stall, and my clothing, turned back to normal. St. Randolph, or whomever he is, must have disappeared. At least, I didn't see any 'feet'. What do you make of it all?"
Beth, feeling an unusual combination of wonderment and amusement, teased, "Oh, the poem's cute, Rollie, but it sounds as though you made it up, yourself." "It was actually kind of nice!" commented Rollie. "Even the toilet paper turned into royal decrees! Do you think I was King Roland, again?"
"Your highness..," replied Beth, "There are cosmic forces, here, that you presently are unaware of. You met your spirit guide today, Rollie! Do you know how amazing and rare that is? I have dreamt of him, before. He's here to help us, Rollie!"
"The pact I made with you was stronger than steel, but even then, it took seven centuries for you and I to find eachother, again, and to have this opportunity. Somehow, St. Randolph and I must help you re-acquire a kingdom and a throne!"
Thinking that he had finally conjured up something intelligent to say, Rollie exclaimed, "But, there aren't any kingdoms, here! We live in the United States!" "We'll have to go to England, then." affirmed Beth.
Standing, Rollie screamed, "I can't go to England!!! I'm still in grade school! First grade school! ...and so are you!" Beth got to her feet, too, and stated, "Some things are more important than learning how to tell red from blue."
"Anyway, you have a whole lifetime to learn how to tell time, read, etc. A lifetime that could be spent as a king!" Rollie slumped back down against the cement foundation of the chimney, wondering if this all was a dream.
"I can't say that I don't mean to alarm you, Rollie, because I do. This is your time." Beth picked up her daypack and left, feeling disappointed but undaunted.
