I find myself endlessly fascinated by how this creature we know as “human” operates.  Lately, I’ve been especially aware of its innate resistance to things or actions it perceives as demanding something of it.  This is pretty nuts, considering that anything worthwhile is going to have those initial moments that are nothing but.

I mention this resistance thing because I hope in recognizing that it is a weirdly unavoidable human reaction, we can afford it a lesser place of importance.

So that, for example, we know ahead of time we will be feeling like we simply can’t, when we absolutely can do the new and unknown.  Then when the “Oh no I can’t!” shows up right on schedule, we let that extra bit of energy and focus it gives carry us right into the doing.

Because we can!

Here’s something that could be helpful if you find yourself in a situation where you aren’t feeling bad enough to see a doc, and at the same time your belly is not very happy:

Settle in and set up some light around you, starting with the point of light in your center and then letting it bloom out to a comfortable volume.  Focus your attention on your stomach, then:

• Thank it for its service to you
• Express your love for it
• Ask it what it needs
• Sit and wait as long as it takes for a thought to drop in
• Thank it
• Tell it what you are going to do in response to its expression of what it needs

It might only want some peppermint or ginger or acidophilis, or a little yogurt.  It might point out to you that what you think isn’t such a big deal actually is.  In which case, get to the emergency room.

This conversation with your body part works with all your other body parts as well.  You’ll be amazed by the answers you get.

An imagination is a terrible thing.  I write this in the face of the advice handed out regarding the importance of imagining in getting what we want.  As in, if we can imagine it, if we can dream it, it will come into being.  Very nice.

Very not nice, because while we have this awesomely powerful tool at our fingertips, we have no concept of how powerful it truly is.

I’ve puzzled over how we have missed seeing what we’ve got, this tiger we have by the tail, and I’ve come to the following conclusions:

• We like things to be instant.  Imagining takes time to get results, which means either we give up on the imagining necessary or when we get the result of our imagining, it is so far from the starting point that we do not recognize it.  I once imagined my perfect work environment to be one where I was in a different location every day.  It happened long after I had forgotten about that imagining.  I was assigned seven locations per week, and was so wrung out by the end of the day on Friday that I swore I would never spread myself so thin again.
• We imagine the details of what we want without looking at the essence of what we are after.  Details alone are not effective at carrying energy.  So avoid imagining things like a blue car with X amount of power and so on.  Imagine a car that has the feeling of what that car will give you as well as type, color, capacity, for example.
• Self talk is a form of imagining.  It is not the universe dumping on us when we indulge in self talk like waiting for the other shoe to drop, expecting the day to not go well, thinking that someone is out to get us, that we will never be truly happy.  It is our enormously powerful ability to imagine in action.
• Imagining has a partner: gratitude.  I will even say that gratitude is the engine of imagining.  When you sit down to do your imagining, and you’ll want to give yourself a few minutes of imagining every day, start with a thank you for all that makes your life wonderful.  Even if the only thing you can come up with is the thought that you are still breathing, and because you are still breathing, there’s time for things to get better.

Someone once told me that we earthlings are unique in our ability to be dreamers.  If this is so, I ask that we treasure our gift and use it wisely and well.

Our human tribe will never accomplish peace among ourselves until we learn to be at peace within ourselves.  For if we are at war with ourselves, unable to accept and love the light that we are, we will have no capacity for peace.  When we see the differences of others, it will be with mistrust. We will be as at war with them as we are with ourselves.

May compassion be what lights your way.

If we want stupidly wonderful things to find their way to us, and who wouldn’t want a lift out of the lists and projects and do or die stuff that many of us find occupying the hours of our day, we have to make room for them.  By widening the angle so there’s space in our everyday perception for what otherwise would seem of such lesser importance that we would not notice it at all.  Then, letting what is stupidly wonderful and almost overlooked become our centerpiece.  I have an example:

I’m driving to an appointment that was scheduled weeks in advance and I absolutely cannot afford to miss, on a route that I have timed down to the last ten minutes.  With an extra fifteen minutes built into the travel time.

I run into the worst traffic snarl I’ve ever encountered.  I can see cars stacked up in front of me for miles.  We are crawling from one red light to another.  We are going to get where we need to be long after we need to be there.  I’m going to be there long after I need to be there.  

And on the radio comes Bolero.  Sinuous, hypnotic, floating above the cars in front of me and beside me and in back of me.  It comes to me that I get to listen to Bolero from beginning to end in the middle of a frantically busy day, guilt free.  Stupidly wonderful!

I could have completely missed out if I had continued to count the minutes passing, not taking note of the music in the background. All that was needed was to widen the angle and make room.

Imagine what might be waiting for you, just as soon as you allow for making room.