Awakening

Pedro was a 97 year old man from Cuba who was always at the Senior Center where my wife goes.

She really liked him and would often talk with him.

He was funny, upbeat, and filled with life, dancing even into his late 90’s.

He died. That day our grandfather clock stopped. The grandfather clock had been running continuously for over a year. A few days later, when I opened it to see what had happened, I saw the chime mechanism was incredibly stuck. I needed a force of about 5 pounds to unstick it. This had never happened before.

If the stars are out there in the daylight, and we don’t see them, what else don’t we see?

Perhaps we need the contrast, the foil, the opposite to see what is hidden.

It really is a gift to appreciate what we have, and not take it for granted. There is a saying, that some dream of what we see as everyday normal, common place. I’m not saying this is bad, or that we are decadent.

Rather, it’s the difference between seeing objects and seeing essence. Being thankful for a spoon is just as important as being thankful for a smartphone.

I close my eyes and open my mind to a scene.

It is simple. The same person always appears. The person is near a tree. The person is dressed in a robe, standing. It could be Jesus, Buddha, or some master. But I like to think of the person as my higher self, the part of me that is still on the other side, and has access to great wisdom.

I’ll call the person “the master.”

I don’t speak. The master doesn’t speak. Yet I know the master knows what I need, and always gives me what I need. Something really happens. It isn’t pretend. It only takes 20 seconds.

Sometimes knowing you have a choice isn’t obvious. Sort of, “What, I can choose?”

I do not read the newspapers, nor watch the news.

I choose my reality.

I sometimes imagine myself in a place of turmoil like Jerusalem. I stand there, eyes closed, with ripples of “illumination” going out from me, as if a pebble were tossed in a pond. Every second, going out hundreds of miles.

Then, at the same time, I picture myself in the center of China, doing the same.

I really enjoy the sense of mystery.

Perhaps it’s the urge to look behind the veil – you know, to understand the essence of what we perceive with our senses – to use the sixth sense, intuition.

Just as an ace of spade trumps the king of spades, knowing trumps knowledge.

An intelligent person does not care much about information and knowledge. An intelligent person cares much more for the capacity to know.

His or her interest is in knowing, not just knowledge. Knowing gives you understanding, where knowledge gives one a feeling of understanding, without giving you real understanding.

What’s an invisible helper?

Some may call an invisible helper God.

Some may call an invisible helper an angel, a loved one who has passed over.

It really doesn’t matter.

It’s whether you think there is someone there to assist you.

I believe, I didn’t always, but I do believe now that there is a presence always there to help me.

So what I do in my life, is that I call upon that helper.

I think of that helper sitting beside me at work in a chair.

I think of that helper as someone with me in my car when I am driving somewhere.

I talk to plants. I mean, I don’t do this every day, but I have talked with some plants. I read how to do this in a book, The Secret Teachings of Plants, and I decided to try it myself.

I move my awareness to the middle of my chest. It’s usually in the middle of my head. I see it like a ball of white light moving from my head to my heart. I close my eyes, and tell the plant, “I want to speak with you and learn from you.” It also helps if I imagine myself filling the plant – into its leaves, into its branches, into its trunk, into its roots.

I see light in me.

I see my cells glowing.
I see a spark in every cell.
I light the candle inside of me.
I will it so, strongly.

It is my thought that I am a piece of God.
A piece of the Creation, if you prefer.
I sense a calm come over me.

Every cell knows each other, like drops in the ocean, and stars in the sky.
Each of my trillions of cells hear me when I speak, when I think.
They are always listening.

I saw an angel. Actually, I saw one, then a second, and then a third. The first was a young adult about 14 years old. The angel wore a white gown or robe. It looked like linen.

Upon the robe was exquisite and unusual golden trim and gold embroidery. It seemed as though the gold was alive, as if it were the energy identity and the “life” of the angel – its core essence.

The gold “writing” sparkled, too. The angel moved but was completely silent. It had no wings.