dashboard

We have these dashboards in our lives.  Filled with gauges, pretty lights, shiny buttons, contoured knobs  - comfortable and comforting. Trouble is, they distract.  They reassure.  They are crutches.

Shiny, pretty, contoured and familiar, they let us pretend that our music, regulated temperature controls, fans and even retractable sun roof, cruise control and electronic windows - is an essential part of the journey. These all help to keep the wolf of uncertainty at bay.  Designed to ensure we focus sufficiently on the larger purpose of our travels  - getting safely there, and not be distressed by the incidentals.  But our dashboards have become more than that.  We engage with them and pretend that where we are going is incidental to how we feel while we are travelling. Thus, feeling comfortable is all-important and if one of the shiny things is not working properly, we can believe that the journey is a bad one.

We have these things called beliefs, amazingly like dashboards really.  We check them regularly on our life journey; making sure we are comfortable, that nothing is upsetting us.  For the older we get, the more uncertain life reveals itself to be.  Disease, death (expected and premature), accident, painful memories, anxieties, feelings of loss - sometimes countered by success, stability and calm; but the larger picture is complex. Trouble is, we have things on our dashboards we don't really need.  Some of our beliefs distract us.

See if any of these beliefs strike a note:

I am a great communicator. I have a personal example to match anything anyone else says.
(But I may not have valued what you have said)

If I just stay cheerful, I can manage all the big problems. Bad days are not allowed.

Life is manageable.  All I need is a better spreadsheet and everyone's cooperation.

I need help.  Life is too big and if you cannot help me, I don't have space for you.

It's all my fault - if I was better at X, everyone would be happier.

There is never enough time.  I don't have the chance to clear up/finish up/sort out/get organised because life is just too full.

Everything will work itself out.  No need to bother about anything. The universe (multiverse) will provide.


So.
A belief is a dashboard: providing reassurance, familiar points of reference, gauges to show how much fuel is left. A belief is not a destination. It is one path of many; not more, not less. Having a path is healthy - knowing there are other paths is healthier. Just for one day, choose a different dashboard.

judgement day

The door opens just that little bit; light comes in.  Mistakenly I think it is all the light there is and celebrate the end of darkness.  Later, the door cracks open further and more light comes in. I marvel at the increase in understanding that light brings, as shadows gain clarity and tepid becomes warm.  Life goes on with my self-congratulations; trying not to feel smug, trying not to feel that I have some higher platform or view from which to studiously not pass judgement; to share wisdom.  A painful experience may occur; I reflect, I ponder, and accept some responsibility in the transaction - and I realise the door has opened further and I have been standing in the twilight, when I thought it was daytime. Sadly I realise the door is still mostly closed, and my journey is new.  My soul may feel old, but my awareness is nascent. I strive to accept; but I judge, judge and judge again; even as I speak and speak and speak about not judging.  I may as well be pointing, with those three fingers, back at me.  Everyday is judgement day, and everyday we have the capacity to open the door just a crack further. Or do we pretend all our work is done?

speaking for yourself

Once bitten, twice shy.  or is it, get back on the horse as soon as possible....?  the point is, we are all responsible not only for ourselves, but for the meanings we make, the meanings we take, the meanings we choose amongst all the other meanings out there. Our experiences and expectations and attitudes frame our view, our reality, our weltanschaung. It is easy to mumble platitudes about only speaking for yourself and not speaking for others: but when we react to the words or actions or even perceived intentions of others, without checking out with the other person what their perceptions are - we make a massive assumption and possibly destroy the cloth upon which we all sit. Our reactions say most about our own history, attitude and perspective: very little about anyone else. What is it we fear?  what is it YOU fear?  go on - take a moment.  what is it you fear? (do you DARE, to pause and let a fear into this comfy little niche of space?)

let it nip your heel.  - just a nip.

what we fear is different from what anyone else fears; even if just a little.  We have reasons for why we fear certain things.  solid, valid, and experience-based reasons.  and because our experiences are different from other people - we react differently to events, whether positive and negative. 

what is the WORST word you know?  go on. is it or was it the same for your parent/uncle or aunt/ grandparent/youngest acquaintance?  certainly not - and yet, ANY of our worst words will cause similar howls of protest or revulsion for any or all of us.  the emotions are very very overlapping, the triggers are not. we are different people, who have different meanings for everything we do, see/hear and perceive.  even sitting side by side - our experiences are DIFFERENT.  speak for yourself, think for yourself - yea yea yea.  but perceive for yourself and interpret for yourself as well.  do not project onto others, the meaning you created out of an event. that is the same as speaking for them; more subtle perhaps, but of the same spectrum.

we are truly alone; that is the curse of incarnation.  but when it is over, we are together with souls and energy and glorious resonance more than we incarnated beings can hope to perceive.  both are more complete existences than we like to consider; but both existences, both conditions, both aspects of ourselves are part of our contract with the Oversoul, and need to be recognised and welcomed into the hearth, and given a warm bowl of soup.

escape

There are a thousand ways for me to escape the responsibilities of this life.  or perhaps it is by a factor of 10 or 100 or 1000.  The point is made. Not to end anything, for that would really annoy the folks who helped me to get here and set me back by quite a ways.  no - far more subtle.  It is doing things that are not true to my reason for being here - that is the escape. And the reason for being here:  now that changes with each person, so there is some divining needed. I spoke with a melancholic recently - and she said "I am an old soul; but I am not an advanced one."  I suspect she is advanced, considering the fantastic work she is doing to help break down barriers to those dealing with severe autism, but the point is that it is not she, nor anyone else to claim to be advanced, or not.  We are all working towards being one with God, and one of our biggest challenges (certainly mine) is to value and encourage development from everyone, in every situation, as they work through the issues they have chosen for this life - striving to develop, to move forward. I have written perhaps lightly of those who are newer to incarnation than others - but it is the same direction we all travel. 

so what about those responsibilities and how do we avoid them.  I could avoid them by being a reporter, a camera-operater in weddings, for parties for documentaries or for commercial television programming.  I could avoid my responsibilities by following doctrine closely, by taking advice without questioning, or by taking a job that remained constant year after year.  I could avoid my purpose in life by becoming an avid follower of Deepak Chopra, GI Gurdjieff, or a modern day saint. I could watch too much television, or drink too much booze, or overfill my wardrobe or buy that lovely Volkswagon bus or 10,000 other things that react instead of pursue. My purpose in life, working within the confines of an information and memory scrambler called dyslexia, is to gather and analyse cognitive and emotional information, learn to balance that with spontaneity and live a life that progresses my inherited values in a new age.  That means change is constant, my boundaries are always challenged and I struggle to find my own voice in the cocaphony that surrounds me. I balance appreciation of the sences with the fathoming of the depths. Empathise with the Russian Soul through the great works, followed by a trip to Botton village. For me to report what others do - not the point. To follow the great and the good, or the doctrine of Adam-Smith or any other great book, to repeat the same work day after day.  My soul would wither and die. And I speak only for me.

For everyone else, there are their own escapes and fulfillments.  They may overlap wtih mine, and I convince myself we are similar, but perhaps we are no more than distant cousins 5 times removed, simply in a similar place for a short time. Or they may not overlap at all and we could still be soul mates (or total strangers). For the Baptist preacher - is he in the right role? If it is my friend from Ghana - I suspect so. Was the Methodist minister from years past in the right role - for a while yes.  And then no. Perhaps our responsibilities have nowt to do with work....perhaps raising 5 children is essential to get the point we came for.  Or perhaps having no children is essential.  It's not for me (or you) to say; it is only for us to accept, support and encourage, nudging others toward the road less travelled.  For that will make the difference.

mind the gaps

so it happened.  be careful what you wish for.  My random thoughts and scribblings were read by some who know me, and there was a bit more recognition within my words than I had expected.  I have often wondered what the fallout would be from writing a family book - where the characters are composites, where the sister-in-law is actually more like the half-sister and the cousin could be mistaken for the brother. It's a dangerous task writing a book - and all the more dangerous when the author doesn't REALLY know what presses a button, and what might be dangerous territory.  All the more dangerous for family, where the relationships are inviolate, or so they should be, but in fact, so often are not. What we discover, to our shame, embassassment, puzzlement, astonishment, is that the bit of concrete fact, the spark that fanned into a flame, is mistaken for a good part of the blaze.  Relationships are not inviolate, and bonds that are tenous can be broken all too easily.  I have reviewed all my writings, and my horror during the day, when I imagined the worst, that I had held an image in my mind and somehow ranted about someone I know and respect but might have been miffed with - that horror has dissipated.  I recall that I was interested in creating composites that exaggerate foibles and realities different than my own,  but I seem to have conveyed very different meanings, and I did not review the work through the eyes of my composites sufficiently. The first lesson of an author - no need to be even remotely explicit, the merest shadow will convey the shape of the beast.  My words did not reflect enough cognizance of the gaps that form between them, and that much vaulted prize called perspective, has a second edge that can cut rather sharply.

pieces

A few weeks ago I went to the healer's session and my favorite healer was there. I sometimes do not trust the inner world to the harsh realities of the outer.  This is the case with this healer.  If I am in the same room as her; I cannot tune her out.  There is something about her that is not of this time, and it links to me.  It draws me close and whispers in my ears - "we know each other." Upon meeting this healer, I was convinced that we have a history not of this lifetime. Interestingly, I can point to an actress that many years ago, I felt a similar affinity to; and they bear a striking physical similarity.   Oddly, I feel that the affinity to the actress was actually to this healer: she provided the look that allowed me to recognise this spirit when I met her. And yet....I have not spoken of this to her.  I do not wish to stalk her, or seek her out or even include her more in my life; it is enough that we have met and I know that this kind of resonance exists.  Further, I do not yet trust that my inner world is understandable to acquaintenaces of the outerworld - even the healer. There is something very reassuring about being alone......


This reminds me of a dear friend from 20+ years ago.  On a trip to the (then) Soviet Union, we were walking along a street in (then) Leningrad, and appropos of nothing, held hands. At that moment I was convinced she had been my sister in a previous life.  That conviction remained, and despite having lost touch in the intervening years, my fondness for her is undiminished.  The time together was sufficient, even if a subsequent meeting should or does not occur. And more - I found two daughters in recent years (although I told one she was a sister, and the other that we were sages for each other  - ...somehow I do not want to elevate myself; and yes, I do not trust my inner world enough, as yet).  Both of them at my workplace, one in years past, one of more recent appearance. She who has left,  wrote a wonderful book entitled Becoming Sarah - which I recommend.  The other has had more of a struggle in this life than I - but has a gift in generating pathos; and leaving a trace of good humour and concern that I seem to lack. Intriguingly, we teach each other, but I suspect she does not know she teaches.  Change will be coming soon enough for both of us.  

What is it about such connections?  Are there pieces of us that continue from one life to another?  Do we have the capacity to seek each other, and find each other using sences not even recognised by the outer world? So little empricial evidence, but all I can say is yes.


So, three weeks ago my healer did a session for me.  I spent 40 minutes in a chair, on a cloud, having the dust of the ages brushed off my soul. It was one of the most extrordinary periods of time in my life.  I spent two weeks wondering what hit me.  When I finally spoke of this, to the daughter at work, we came to the statement that in brushing of the dust, perhaps a piece of myself had become dislodged. I suggested this might not have been a bad thing .  Another week having passed; I finally went back to the healers and had another session.  My healer was in the room, and in my consciousness, but another healer did my session.  With the calmness brought on by channeled energy, I realise that a piece of me was not lost.  Pieces of me were found, underneath the dust. It is to me however to allow them to shine.  This will take time, but more, it will take faith.  Faith that my inner world might just have more bridges to the outer world than I have yet built.


I seem to have collected a mother, a sister and two daughters, if only in passing.  Where are the men? Am I getting stuck on the outer manifestations?  Note to self: brush off more dust - time to accept more through the inner sences.

magic

"I had a magical day. Met a lot of friends and all by chance." So said a friend the other day. Magic? Synchronicity? Coincidence? Just one of those things? Evidence that when we are attuned, notes come together.

"Music is the wine that fills the cup of silence." (Robert Fripp for King Crimson) The merging of music and wine, receptacles and silence is an attuning, a blending of ideas, leading to a coming together of experience. Release the idea into the world and it becomes reified; the more it is expressed, the more solid it gets. The begining of materialism was an idea, as such were we all: "just" an idea. That idea is a note; there are many more.

Silence is the place where things happen. Silence is the space where things come together. Silence is the pandora's box wherein all that is unnamed is given the chance to speak and all that which was closed off is shone the glory of day. In silence reside the notes of our lives usually getting drowned out by even the smallest unmet need. Hear the rustling coat of the person nearby, hear the pipes as they move that central heating around the building, hear the absence of everything else that usually jostles your inner balance - and hear those few hesitant notes playing the music that is you.

Alchemy: An Index of Possibilities. The music of David Sylvian - Electronic? Ambient? Perhaps he was seeking a transmutation such as the alchemists of old - a changing of one to another. Metamorphosis? Cast your mind to history; Ancient alchemists seemed to be preoccupied with making mountains of gold, but they never seemed to succeed. But what if this was merely a means to an end? What if the path to gold led past being able to transmute themselves? To enable a gross material body such as we all have, to be changed into something else? Resisting ageing, or negating geography.... perhaps magicians/musicians, sages and mystics have at various times actually succeeded in hearing those notes in the silence that transformed themselves....perhaps they found those vibrations in base metals that led, not to another base metal, but to finer vibrations, sweeter chords, the music not of despair and angst and crowded railway platforms, but lifting, turning and freeing them of mortal coils, not premature departure, but at will and with elated return. Music can trigger attacks or weeping - can lead to trances or jubilation; it is not for our ears, it is for our balance, our raison d'etre, our way to become more than we are.

Whether with notes or symphonies, attuned we are together, and able to align in ways that might otherwise be considered: magic.