The
writings encouraged me to watch this phenomenon
at work, and I did so, now able to observe more
as I slowed down and experienced more peace. I
remembered that, even as a child, what I wanted
or needed somehow made its way to me without my
reaching out for it, and as I grew up, I noticed
that if I waited and did not buy the desired book,
couch or car, it would come to me. The same thing
happened with people. If I thought about a particular
someone, the person either called or showed up
in my life, just as Michael, the sensitive, romantic
musician I'd wished for, had walked by my home
and stopped to admire my garden.
The sense of synchrony deepened my feelings of
magic and wonder. But what was the catalyst? Was
I seeing more because I was slowing down and paying
more attention? Or was my focused attention really
bringing about this or that co-incidence? I didn't
know, but I kept in mind the notion of free will
creating my destiny, and a new sense of self-direction
stirred within me. If some principle governing
manifestation was at work here, then just like
the writings said, we do create our own reality
and anything is possible. If so, I was not, as
the writings said, at the mercy of childhood patterns,
past mistakes or my chaotic work schedule and
really could bring my life into balance.
Not only had I changed, so had the writings:
my attunement to them was stronger and their consciousness
was higher. Curiously, they took on an unidentified
but somehow consoling plurality of "we."
I was delighted by this shift and by a powerful
infusion of nature imagery which flowed into my
mind and pen like a cool mountain stream. Occasionally,
the writings used parables, like this one:
It is written that in times
past, a man approached a woman for a meager crumb
of bread, for he was starving. Said she to him,
she wished for him no evil, but whyfore was he
hungry, when meat abounded in the woods? The man
looked about him, as if puzzled by this statement,
for he had thought only to find food within his
world and none other. What was readily apparent
to the woman was not easily seen by the man.
Such are the ways of your earth. A man seeks only
as he is told and thinks not for himself, but
of himself. A woman thinks of another and it is
more that she sees. It is not a matter of the
who, the man or the woman, but the seeing itself.
How could I be the source of such a teaching?
I couldn't imagine. The words and ideas came so
quickly as to be scrawled across the page, with
no time for thought or composition by me. Unlike
my news stories, not a word in the writings ever
needed editing in any way. Each phrase flowed
into graceful sentences that were coherent, cohesive
and eloquent in meaning, rhythm and tone. Symbols
and metaphors painted themselves into each passage
and trickled into my professional writing, which
grew more visual almost by the day.
In the years to come, I seldom returned to the writings to reread and contemplate them, as they urged, but I no longer dismissed them as the ego-driven fantasies of my subconscious mind. I did not understand right away everything that was said, nor did I perceive, until now, their patterns of instruction, but one thing was clear: The voice was not mine. I was opening my heart and mind to a consciousness much higher than my own.
By now, only months after the writings began, I saw clearly that the voice was guiding me into a heightened sensitivity and awareness. It was expanding my five senses into a multi-sensory perception that would supposedly sharpen my intuition and make me more, it said, "as Light."
|
