Sunday, May 13, 2007

one thing Last week a friend of mine sent me a link to a website called 43 Things. Go ahead - explore, and I'll be here when you get back :~) So you've seen the list, the contributions that people from around the country and the world have made to the list, the responses, the categories of topics, and maybe you've gotten some great ideas for things you want to add to YOUR list of things to do before you die. Well, hang on a second. Before you create your new account to construct your own list on the website, before you pull out your journal, your Daytimer, before you email yourself to start compiling those dreams - stop. Yes, it's true that there are life-changing, magical qualities associated with getting your dreams out of your head and onto a hard, possibly shiny surface of some kind. They have a much greater chance of actually happening that way. And yes, brainstorming with others is a great technique to snap out of the day-to-day sleep state and allow yourself the necessity of dreaming big. I certainly endorse both of those methods for getting from Point A - cerebral dreams, to Point B - goals coming true in your own life. I had a rather unexpected reaction to this number thing, though. Rather than be amused or enthused by it, my initial thought was, "No, I don't need to make a list of 43 things I want to do. I only need one thing." One, I tell you. One thing is what my heart wants to open up to at this moment in time, and one thing is what my energy level says we are capable of handling right now, and one thing is what my enthusiasm meter will register. Monitoring my environment for...
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...

Deb Schanilec

Connected and Committed relationship transformation strategist.

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