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65 pages

English

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Buy this book because you know you are missing something. Buy this book because you know there is something more to know about your life and beyond your life. Have you been moved by a movie? A book? One of the best movies, "Medicine Man" with Sean Connery. 1980's. The connections made in this film are brilliant with the ending being the most important.
The Sonder Effect,
reveals through a story how we all play a part in each other’s lives. Strangers come and go, it is a constant flow of people in our lives. This book helps to identify our connection to one another and the signs made available to you from God.

Sujets

God

Visionary

Metaphysical

Fiction

Informations

Publié par	Balboa Press
Date de parution	07 novembre 2022
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9798765235157
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0200€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

THE SONDER EFFECT

TARIN BUTLER

Copyright © 2022 Tarin Butler.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Balboa Press
A Division of Hay House
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.balboapress.com
844-682-1282

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 979-8-7652-3514-0 (sc)
ISBN: 979-8-7652-3515-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022918176

Balboa Press rev. date: 11/03/2022

Dedicated to
the miracles in my life.
First two,
then three—
heart and soul, full.

“Better to light one candle than to curse the darkness.”
—Reverend Seizan Kawakami, Inscribed on a rock on the edge of a cliff in Saipan

Sonder : The realization each passerby has a life as vivid and complex as your own
Contents
Iris and Lana
Ruth
Ruth Alone
Ruth and Brennan
Ruth Alone
Ruth and Brennan
Ruth
Iris and Lana
Lana and Ruth
Iris and Lana
Cable and Brennan
Ruth and Fred
Cable and Brennan
Cable, Brennan, and Ruth
Cable and Brennan
Iris and Lana
Brennan
Lana
Cable
Iris and Lana
Brennan, Fred, and Ruth
Cable and Brennan
Ruth and Fred
Lana and Ruth
Iris and Lana
Brennan Decides
Ruth Cornered
The Call
Meeting of Minds
Dead Reckoning
Shed a Little Light
A Gentle Rain
Moving Target
All Covered with Snow
Six Months Later
Addendum
Iris and Lana
“Walk with me,” said Iris.
She was my new friend, who popped in at the weirdest moments, requesting the weirdest things. It was nine o’clock at night. I was finishing my dinner dishes and ready for bed.
“I know it’s cold, but look! It’s snowing.” Iris pulled back the curtain at my back door, smiling widely.
Yup, it was snowing. I sighed and followed her out the door, pulling on my winter clothes, a jacket pre-stuffed with scarf, gloves, and a hat. I then mashed my feet into my boots. I stood on the landing of my house, looking like the Pillsbury Doughboy.
Iris, however, looked like a gypsy. Her hair was long, but it was not white or blonde. It was shimmering gold, even in the winter, when clouds covered the sky and blocked out the sun. On a night like this one, we could only see snowflakes falling in the streetlights.
Iris naturally had flowing, thick waves that most women paid lots of money for. I knew I had paid dearly myself trying to mimic the same, but I’d resigned myself to an updated Dorothy Hamill that my mother told me I must update.
She explained to me that nobody knew who Dorothy Hamill was anymore. Iris and I were complete opposites. I suspected she had a kick-ass body, but I didn’t know because her clothes were always loose and appeared to flow rather than cling to her body. My clothes hung off me and tended to bunch. Opposites, I tell you.
“Lana, listen.” Iris broke my concentration.
“I don’t hear anything, Iris,” I said.
“Yes, the world is silent, as if God said, ‘Hush, it is time for bed.’”
It was exactly what I was thinking.
“The houses glow from wood heat. Light flickers in a random beat from television sets playing favorite shows. Isn’t there a peaceful comfort hearing our feet crunching and packing down the snow as we make our path alongside the roadway?” Iris said.
She then spread her arms out and twirled in the snow. “The houses sit tucked tidily in snowbanks; wisps of smoke escape from their chimneys; and the outside mimics the inside. Observe the people snug and warm in their heat. All are glowing, all getting tucked under heavy winter covers, warm and safe.”
I felt as if Iris was teaching me something. She moved along in the snow, flowing like an angel hiding her wings. Iris’s wings would have to fold under a wool poncho and over thick leggings, which she complemented with tall leather boots that came to her knees, and her hair was partially trapped in a crocheted beret.
I didn’t know when she had managed to wrap a scarf around her neck and push her manicured hands into big chunky mittens, but there she was. Her face glowed in the streetlight, and I hoped the light would be as flattering for me. Her eyes were gray, and her smile tried to encircle me like a hug. I turned away.
“Ah, don’t you love it when the snow falls through the streetlights? The children will be hoping for no school tomorrow, and these big flakes will make for good snowmen and sledding. Oh, what fun.”
Iris continued. “Isn’t it grounding to walk through your neighborhood and sense the calm in these houses? They are finishing dinner, finishing the dishes, doing homework, doing laundry, watching TV, and getting ready for bed. All the things you imagine people must do as the night settles into darkness and sleep overcomes them.”
I smiled. But I swore to myself that if she started twirling around under the streetlights and singing like the von Trapp family in the Sound of Music , I was turning around and going home. I did enjoy her company though; my life had been boring.
“We do not stop to think about the people who live in the houses we pass. What type of lives do they lead; what types of love do they endure?” Iris said.
“What do you mean what type of life or love they lead?” I asked her, wondering if I wanted to know the answer.
“For instance, Lana. The house we just passed has a man in it who constantly yells at his wife.” Iris was matter-of-fact.
My head snapped to look at her.
“Oh yes, my dear. He yells loudly all the time. He’s hard of hearing, and he won’t go to the doctor either—his poor wife.”
Wait, what?
“Now this house is cute as a button in the summer. There are always beautiful flowers out here in the front. Wait a minute—don’t walk off just yet. Let’s watch a little more,” Iris said.
The television was the only light inside the house. Outside, the quiet was so strong it began to hurt my head. I knew only one woman who lived there. I could not imagine a reason to stand outside the home.
“Look!” Iris exclaimed.
Inside, I saw a woman putting a framed picture back on the fireplace mantel. She sat in a chair.
“Look at the picture! It is her family,” Iris explained.
Fa mily?
“Her family left a long time ago because she chose drinking over them,” Iris said.
We continued, our feet crunching in the snow and snowflakes sticking on our eyelashes, wetting our exposed hair. I was without purpose. I had only known Iris a short time, and she knew more about our neighborhood than I did—and I’d grown up here.
“Here we are.”
We were now closer to the city center, though it was more of a town than a city. The population grew during the tourist season but not in the winter. Here there were more streetlights and a few commercial businesses. We were standing across from a drugstore.
Ruth
The lights of the drugstore still burned brightly, a beacon of hope in the darkness for Ruth Jennison. She held her breath most of the last block, praying the store was still open. By the time she parked her car it had started to rain. Earlier the car radio had proclaimed it would turn to freezing rain overnight and then to snow by morning.
A winter storm would be a relief for Ruth. Maybe then she wouldn’t have to give a shit about anything. Maybe she would be stuck in the house all day or run off the road on the way home from the drugstore tonight. Probably no one would even notice.
It was fortunate that the rain and dropping temperatures made her feel comfortable in a hat with her coat’s hood pulled over it. Her first order of business was to grab a bottle of wine, but she couldn’t avoid the reason she’d driven an hour to get here—the makeup section.
Ruth was in her fifties and would be considered attractive for her age, but she never bothered with current styles in clothes, hair, or makeup. Her complexion had always been naturally clear.
Since Ruth had lived her whole life in Maine, she attributed her clear skin to the clean, fresh air and salty ocean breezes. She just never took the time to apply makeup. She had once used lipstick, but that had been years ago in college. She no longer owned anything related to fashion or cosmetics—nothing.
Ruth stood in front of the seemingly endless number of cosmetics colorfully arranged on the drugstore wall, all alien to her. Somehow she would have to figure o