Sunday, May 13, 2007

permission granted OK, I lied. A few blog posts back, I proclaimed that I was taking a kinder, gentler approach to developing my latest stretch of spirituality real estate. Rather than launch an all-out assault, I would go for subtlety, hanging out with the Observer while abundance consciousness permeates the interior, taking its own good time. Ha. Two days later, I had bumped into several books and a 40-day prosperity program to jump into. Trouble is, participating in the latter requires getting up early, and the story I tell myself is that I just don't do that very well. So I decided to do what makes the most sense to me when approaching uncharted bodies of knowledge or boxes of accumulated wisdom. I sail the waters, unwrap the packages, take what works for me and leave the rest. Which in this case means extract the juice, and leave the dead husk of wrapper behind. The inspiration and effort that went into writing those books and choreographing those programs before they found their way to me will come alive again when I pull the ideas through my juicer, and add the twists that will make them my own. The phrase "permission granted" popped into my head during this flurry of activity in my brain, and while I was certainly doing that for myself in this situation, it didn't seem to go far enough to describe what was really happening. It felt like the hatch on another layer of existential mechanization had flipped open, and I was climbing out into new surroundings like an 18th century citizen transported to the present, wide-eyed, jaw-dropping. Only the stint of time travel I was riding involved primal hunting grounds. For permission to be granted, I reasoned, there was another more basic tenet involved: indigenous release. "Indigenous" meaning...
reconnection "If I have painted it well, you will sense that the ocean is a magical place for me. One that without effort or energy creates calm and an over-riding experience of loving-kindness. The problem is I don’t live by the ocean. I live about twenty-five minutes up the Kennebec River in Bath, Maine. It is beautiful here; there is tidal water out the back door and it is not the same. Sometimes I am in Chicago, Newark or New York, long distances from my instant tranquility machine. In those moments, I have learned that I must be able to recreate the ingredients of this experience by the ocean in order to be as focused and useful as possible in the world." This is a snippet from Bill Cummings in his monthly newsletter. While I'm looking out the window just now from my cubicle at my day job, I yearn for the magic of the ocean, or the mountains right about now, too. But a jaunt to that kind of transformational setting just ain't gonna happen today, or anytime soon. So how do I recreate that inspired feeling without hopping on a plane? I look for interactions with people who are likely to "play" with me, either in person or via email. I pull out any inspirational tapes or cds that I haven't listened to for awhile. Whatever metaphysical concept I've been internalizing lately will hit me as new material, even though I might have listened to it 35 times when I first got it. At lunch, I go for a walk in a park about a mile from where I work - I can almost not hear the traffic. Or I utilize the uninhabited floor of our office building and do laps there when it's not conducive to go outside....

Deb Schanilec

Connected and Committed relationship transformation strategist.

The Typepad Team

Recent Comments