The long winter… I wanted to earn money for another bike (an older Harley) and I have saved some but not all of it. I’m looking forward to next week when I am home once again without the prison of my own making…
One of my favorite pastimes is spiritual growth and development, deep reflecting, meditation, envisioning what connection to collective unconscious looks and feels like, and what about synchronicities? Imagining that these things are life’s conversations with the divine.
It’s like going to school; you learn and experience in class those things you study but the actualization of what you learn happens out amidst the environment of your practiced field. My field is that nomadic adventure, practicing those things that my imaginings have informed me of what is spiritual truth to me.
Did I learn to listen more and talk less? Did I learn to allow myself to be exactly where I am and not move to fix, change, or buffer that? Did I fall in love with myself more and in so doing fall in love with all other humanity? Did I face adversity with grace and ease and if not do I regret or make myself less for it?
In the busiest moments of working, “trying” to earn that money for this new bike that I want. I lost for a moment the preciousness of my imagined conversations with Divinity. I was back in my own rat race, thinking (imagining really) that if I want this thing I have to work really hard, deny myself and play this game, which seemed to be the very thing that was blocking the flow and it felt like utter darkness in which my bike was hit twice and broken into as well and all within a month’s time. I played this game until I was emotionally broke, nothing more to spend. Then, with some gentle nudging through friends and acquaintances, I was reminded that this is not my path, nor was it theirs.
You see my truth lives in that world of imagination, that the Unseen forces will meet me and supply what I need for “the journey of spirit” (as Scotty so well puts it). This annihilation of soul in exchange for the collective imaginings that money is somehow the pursuit of all pursuits and needs to be in the forefront of everything else was the driving force of my misery, and winter of dark.
Once I gave that up, money began to flow. I accepted that maybe I wouldn’t get enough for the bike this time around, but I could get some now, later and build upon it without engaging in the dream of the planets monetary systems. And divine imagining returned, my soul rested, my mind created, my spirit given permission to live by imagination.
This, of course doesn’t mean to completely remove myself from the current expression of our collective reality, it just means to spend more time in pursuit of what matters to me, what feeds my particular journey. The long ride, the tent in the wild, the conversations with other beings (human and otherwise, I like to converse with nature) along the way, the kind listening of others’ stories and the telling of my own.
As a Holistic Health Practitioner and ordained minister my desire to walk in the space of healing, to be ready and available to meet that responsibility as I go is my challenge and hope. That I will meet the people that forward my personal goals as they apply to the collective awakening to love, that I will recognize the moment of synchronicity and follow these signs, that I will live in the threshold between this world and the unseen world that most of us have a feeling exists. That my path will lead me exactly where it needs to produce exactly what I need in my contribution to earth and others…
The balance between the material and unseen usually tips towards the material, the needing to engage somewhat in the current monetary system, fitting in, that human requirement to be accepted and a part of, the loneliness of heart when standing alone facing what is in the shadows, not knowing the outcome. The natural desire to share oneself fully and deeply with others; intimately, honestly, authentically, transparently, emotionally, and spiritually often illuminating its own necessity, and thus being interpreted by my ego as impossible to actualize with a haunting deficiency, my constant companion.
Putting this out in words is my susceptibility, it gives access to others who may judge where I fall short or even for holding these ideals, my total and absolute hippified weirdness, the differences, and the position that I don’t fit along the same lines of belief as others who may be quite attached to the impression that they hold the truth and it isn’t in line with my own. So here it is, my transparent dreams on a platter, served hot from the oven of my imagination, the main course of my nomadic purposing, spiced with my own experience, some may hate the flavor, some may crave the taste, but it is out on the table and open for discussion over its ingestion.