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I'm big on watching simple things, such as flying a kite (Okay, sometimes this isn't so simple to do, but more about that later.) and feeling inspired by all the lessons that a simple observation brings.
Walking down the sunny beach at Seacliff in Aptos, California, I watched several kites soaring. Lifted high by the wind, they were delighting everyone around. The kites were glorious and the fliers exuberant! Anyone walking within site of the kites had a smile on their face. Flying the kite this particular morning was so darn easy. It looked easy. The fliers' laughter was punctuated with 'ooohs' and 'aaaahs'--confirmation that, indeed, it was easy.
It would have been an entirely different story if the wind wasn't coming off the water in the steady, but strong way. All you had to do was hold the kite up and the wind did the rest. Think about that for a minute. There are forces of nature at work all around us that do the work. We just have to align with them. Not only are these forces active 24-7, there is nothing we can do to stop them. "It rains on the just and unjust" is a Bible passage in that most of us have heard at some point. The passage means we do not, in any way, need to be different to align with these forces. The Power of the Universe just Is.
Being the mom of three boys, I have had many days when the boys wanted to fly kites and the wind was a torrent of gusts or just barely moving. Every time our kites did a death spiral due to lack of wind or were yanked from young hands by a tremendous gust, we learned that going against 'what is' is not productive--in any way!
We would miss the satisfaction of the easy majestic soaring. We would all try different things--putting on a longer tail or heavier tail or running faster to catch the wind--until finally we had tried everything we knew. Of course, after much expenditure of energy, it would dawn on us: "It isn't a good day for flying a kite!" So we'd pack up the string and kites and call it quits.
So much of our day-to-day lives are like the kites and the wind. Using the Power of the ever-present Universe, some days it is a good day to fly a kite. Other days it is a good day to re-direct activity in accordance with whichever way the wind is blowing.
I routinely observe folks going against the wind in so many areas of their lives. Just like we kept trying everything we knew to get the kite up in the air--so too folks are trying everything they know to make a situation or circumstance or relationship work. And just like us in that "do anything to get the kite up" mode, they are wasting energy doing it.
Everything is energy. Leaking energy is never a wise choice. "The lessons?" you ask, "What about the lessons you learned trying to go against the forces of the universe?" There is the illusion. We already knew it wasn't a good day to fly a kite. We didn't listen to our wisdom, but we knew. In our guts, we knew if the kite was going up, it wasn't staying up. The lesson was honor what you know and don't leak energy!
Dolphins, pelicans diving for fish and sea lions are common treats at Seacliff. Past the kites, a sea lion was on the beach. Sea lions have always reminded me of Bashful, one of the seven dwarves. Their eyes are those of a puppy dog and they are non-combative and peaceful.
This particular sea lion was not doing too well--starving, in fact.
The previous years have been good, so the population is too big for the amount of fish this year. I remember this part of the "circle of life." The Lion King made the circle famous--palatable even-to many of us. I know it is how things work here in Earth School, and it is powerful. I know going against it isn't wise.
I absolutely hate watching anyone or anything suffer. Before I can take a breath and remind myself of the circle of life, I observe myself pull out my cell phone, and call the ranger station. The thought "How interesting" comes across my mind, as I continue my observation of me, telling the ranger station about the sea lion. I hear myself emphasize, "It is still alive." I come back into the experience when I hear the ranger station respond with "We'll come pick it up when we can."
"Wow! It happened again," I think. Whatever this "It" is has been happening to me for a long time. Lately though, it is happening more and more. Over the years, I have spoken about it with Shamans, Yogis, and Monks. "Yes," they tell me, "this is a normal experience with increased awareness." I recall one particular Medicine Chief's diagnosis as "Most likely not crazy." "It" smiles. Over the years, I have chosen the name "Observer" to have something to call "It." I snap back.
Yuck. A feeling in the pit of my stomach says the sea lion can be saved--NOW, not later. At least, that is what I think it says. I check in with the pit of my stomach. "Huh?" it says. Arguh. What to do? "What can I do?" I ask myself over and over as I watch the poor sad eyes of this gentle creature. I feel compelled with every fiber of my being that I need to do something. "It" comes back. How strange that " It" observes, "This feeling is in opposition to the circle of life." I am at a loss. Ah, just caught myself aware of "It" again.
"Wait a minute! If the universe is sending 24-7 where do I need to align to receive?" Okay, so I am not at a loss, I am just not tuned in very well at the moment. "Okay," I tell myself, "Calm down and tune in. Breathe." Again and again, I force myself to breathe. As soon as I focus on my breath,
Observer comes back. Observer hands me the information: I had walked past a fisherman. He is a little ways behind me now. He has baitfish as he is hoping to catch sea bass. I snap out of Observer.
Okay, the plan. "What is your plan Karen?" monkey mind wants to know. Walk over to the fisherman and offer him money for his fish? "I have cash," I think. Check the pockets--yup, got cash. I worry that the fisherman will think I am crazy, so maybe I should explain why I want it. Umm, something stops me. Hard call to make. He might see the seal a competition for the fish he wants to catch.
"Okay, don't get lost in the details, Karen. Just move your feet and be persuasive." My ego mind continues to prattle on about the plan and what to say as I approach the fisherman.
"Hi, um excuse me. I want to help a starving sea lion hang on until the rangers can pick it up." (Crap, I didn't plan to say that! Too late can't take it back. Who the heck is talking now anyway?) "Can I buy your bait fish from you to feed it?" (Definitely not me talking. This was not my script.)
I move into my right mind and instruct my body "Okay breathe. Go with the flow here. Just observe--don't resist, and don't think. Whatever you do--do not engage the thinking mind." Darn too late. There it is thinking now.
"W-w-what?" says the stunned fisherman.
Dang! I know he heard me. He is going to say no. I take a breath.
Observer-self appears. It is watching me squirm for the most effective response. It thinks, "You are trying to manipulate him to giving you the fish." Somehow, that feels like the wrong approach.
Try the guilt button, my ego mind decides in a nano-second, I begin to speak "I, um," and Observer-self interrupts me. The fisherman hears me say, "I wouldn't be able to sleep at night knowing I let a wonderful, peaceful creature starve to death --knowing I could have done something about it. How about you?" (Oooh-la-la. This Observer-self does guilt much better than I would. No anger. No agenda.)
"Uh, well, ah, um, I guess not," from the still stunned fisherman.
"So how much?" (No time for small talk, ego mind says--quick get the fish before he changes his mind.)
"Oh, ah, um, just take it. I am not catching anything anyway" he responds. I detect some kind of aura of sadness coming from him. Instantly I tune it out--after all, I have a sea lion to save.
"That's wonderful, thanks!" I grab his bait and off I go to take it to the sea lion. I notice the Observer is gone. Darn, I like having it around.
When I get there, more folks are standing around the sea lion, making the tortured "ohhh nooo ohhh" sounds of watching a peaceful animal in distress.
"Did anybody call the rangers?"
"Is that who you call? I always thought it was the marine lab?"
The group conversation trails out of my focus and I decide to put the fish in front of the sea lion by gently tossing it. Getting close to hand feed, I decide, would distress the animal even more.
First toss--not great, but close. She can smell it. "It" decided the sea lion is a she and her name is Amanda. "Wait, I just caught the Observer again," I think. This isn't "me" naming the sea lion Amanda. "Who just named the sea lion?" I ask. Silence. I lose the Observer. It seems every time I become aware of "It," I lose "It." Humm. Note to self.
"You are never going to remember that." I catch the new voice again. "Write it down." It says.
Hold on, make that hold everything--I just counted three voices in my head. The ego me, what I thought was the Observer, but that last commentary was definitely not Observer--who the heck is that talking? Come to think of it, Observer didn't name Amanda either. I snap back as Amanda is getting more curious about the fish I tossed her.
"Come on, Amanda," I pray silently. "Take it. Eat it." She sniffs a bit, and then lays her head back down. My heart sinks. She isn't eating.
"Any of you smarty pants have a good idea now?" I ask annoyed of the multiple voices in my head. Silence.
"Yea, that's what I thought" my ego mind says. Yup, I know how my ego sounds, talks, walks. My ego is present and not happy. Nothing is going the way it expects.
"Expectations are an invitation for disappointment," the voice says. Whew! It's back.
There is something about this new voice. Its power, instruction and unequivocal nature are comforting. "Take over please," my right mind prays. I surrender. "Whatever you want or need God, my hands and feet are yours," my right mind affirms.
"Breathe deeply," I feel the command--from the third voice. My ego wants to jump in, but it is cut-short as I hear a shout from the crowd, "It has sand on it. The fish has sand on it. They eat fish out of the water not the beach." Okay, I think. Need a bucket. "Anyone have a big bucket?" I call out. Observer notes that 'typical me' is back. Ooh.
"Amanda, honey, let's run and get your big yellow bucket," says a dad in the crowd to his little girl.
"Stop the world," I think. "Did he just call her Amanda?" Something is happening here. I know it with every fiber of energy I interact with. I have done this enough times, but each time--well, it is like the first time. The voice says, "This is how it is all of the time." "More commentary from ego," my right mind smirks. Observer says, "This is so interesting--watching yourself interact with the Universe." I snap back.
An out-of-breath 7 yr old girl steps in front of me with her big yellow beach bucket. "What is your name?" I ask. "Amanda." She says. My heart does a double beat. Yup, I heard her name right.
Without even knowing why and without even thinking I hear myself say, "Amanda what do you think the sea lion needs?" Amanda shrugs her shoulders. She is thinking. I can't name it or label it, but I feel some kind of energy moving--moving in me, in the crowd, in the sea lion, in the girl, in both Amandas.
I put the fish in the bucket she is holding. Without any instruction, she goes to the ocean and fills the bucket with water. Now the bucket is heavy and it has fish and water. She walks carefully up to the sea lion.
The sea lion lifts its head, looks at the little girl, and leans towards her. A good omen, I decide. Amid multiple conflicting instructions from all the surrounding adults, I can feel the girl Amanda decide for herself where to set the bucket. As soon as she puts it down, the sea lion puts its head in bucket, then eats one fish, maybe two--spills the rest. Success! I am thrilled and everyone claps. Amanda beams.
"Good job!" I congratulate the girl.
"Is it enough food?" I wonder. I have no idea how long until the rangers come.
Amanda, unfazed by the spilled bucket or sandy fish, picks up the fish and returns them to the bucket. She goes down to the water and refills the bucket, and once again places the bucket of fish in front of the sea lion. She does this over and over until the baitfish is gone.
I notice I am observing how tuned into the situation and circumstance Amanda is. I marvel at the power I feel--this "knowing" of the unknown. The experience of channeling Power through me, translated as naming the sea lion Amanda, the same name as the little girl who is apparently just the right person for the job. I am gawking at the Power of the Universe. I am observing myself gawking at the Power of the Universe. I snap back.
I want to believe, as I gaze at the sea lion, that she is doing better and that somehow the fish made a difference. I can't stay on the beach all day and wait for the rangers. Most of the crowd was on their morning beach walk, and they too have plans they need to continue onto.
I hear Amanda ask her dad, "Can I stay here until the rangers come?"
"Pl-l-l-lease say yes," I silently pray.
"We-e-l-ll," sighs the dad. "I guess your mom can find us here instead of down by the pier." I breathe a sigh of relief. Everything--I feel way down in my gut--is going to be okay. "This is a qualitatively different kind of 'okay'." Observer notes.
All day I am thinking about the sea lion. I want to know what happened. Then again, maybe I don't. I want the fairy tale ending.: Rangers come and rescue the sea lion who will live happily ever after. Yes, I can see this is my ego mind working: working to make a meaning of something, working for space in my head, working for control. I also sense awareness, a presence. I turn to it. I surrender. "Where would you have me go? What would you have me do? What would you have me say and to whom?" This is one of my favorite lines from the Course in Miracles. I call it the "get out of your own way" line. Saying it just shifts once my energy. I feel it.
After dinner, I ask my son Zachary if he wants to go for a walk on the beach and see if we can find out what happened to the sea lion.
"Yes!" he says. Zachary asks me questions about what happened earlier with the sea lion. Zachary asks questions again and again.
This is his way of wanting to hear the story. I tell him the story, again and again. His favorite part is Amanda--Amanda the girl, that is.
We get to the spot the sea lion was beached. Clearly, there are tracks from a 4x4 jeep-- the ranger had come! My heart leaps. Fairy
tale ending! Thank you, God! Thank you, Amanda. Observer notes, "Ego happy--isn't that interesting."
"Excuse me," I hear from behind me. I turn around. It is Amanda and her mom. The mom says she wants to thank me.
"Oh, geez" I say. "You should thank your daughter. She did all the hard work!" I make the introductions to my son Zachary, and myself. Amanda's mom notices Zachary is "different."
For the first time, I am noticing that Amanda is flapping her hands and walking in circles on her toes. If you have a child with any kind of disability, there is the "look" that you exchange with other parents--the "knowing" look. We don't have to ask questions like, "What is your child's diagnosis?" I see that look on Sarah's face, Amanda's mom, as she looks at Zachary, and she can see the look on mine as I look at Amanda--instant kinship.
"What school does Amanda go to?" I ask Sarah. ("What the heck made me ask that?" I wonder.)
Sarah is trying to find a new school for Amanda. Sarah is forced to home school Amanda because she was not being cared for-- let alone educated--at her past school. I am not wondering anymore why I asked that question.
I take a few deep breaths. Now I know the Universe is in full play here. Unfortunately, I have had to sue the school district in which Zachary attended school. He was coming home with unexplained bruises, with his augmentative communication device intentionally broken by the staff of the school so he wouldn't be able to use it, and -the last straw--with a bloody nose he got and no phone call from the school. There was a long list of unconscionable behavior.
The subject brings up so much venom in me--venom for the people who have done this, breaking the scared vows one takes as a teacher or administrator of a school. "Okay," I say to myself, "another chance to practice letting the anger go" and I pray again, "What would you have me say God?" I am feeling somewhat alone--no third voice and no answer.
"I feel your pain," I tell Sarah. "I have been there."
Sara tells me this experience with the sea lion is the first time they have seen their daughter focus like that-- aware of what is going on and what is needed in a situation. "It is nothing short of a miracle," Sarah tells me. "Why," she asks, "do you think Amanda connected with that sea lion?"
The voice is back: "Because the Universe is kind and loving: giving and pressing goodness down into us for good measure." I am hesitating to speak those words. My ego mind says, "You can't say that to her."
Instead, I tell her that many folks-- myself included--who have differently-abled children, see the children behave and act differently with animals. "Zachary has two therapy dogs and I can't imagine life without them." I share with Sarah. I tell her about different groups who help with matching therapy dogs, therapy riding with horses, swimming with dolphins--maybe she should check them out.
Sarah tells me that Amanda's dad is back at the house doing the research now. "He was so excited about the experience, he couldn't wait!" Sarah explains. She thanks me for the information. (I actually email her on the spot from my iphone, the list of resources I have--how cool is technology!) We exchange phone numbers and say good-bye.
As the sun sets, Zachary and I head back to the house. Observer notes, "A much better storybook ending than you wanted." Another note to self.
I take a breath and detect The Presence is still. "Always with you," I hear the voice say. Then I realize I didn't say what I was asked to say--that the Universe is kind and loving; giving and pressing goodness down into us for good measure. I feel it now. Okay, I acknowledge, I blew that. Peace comes over me. I know I'll get another chance. The how of another chance I do not know. I realize I never know the how, and it happens anyway. The Voice says, "You might want to remember that."
I am about to fall asleep later that night and it hits me-the connection between the kites and the sea lion. It isn't that the Universe is sending its Wisdom, its Kindness, and it's Love to me 24-7. The Divine Wisdom is so complete that it can use every situation, every circumstance for multiple benefits 24-7--benefits, the ego mind could never, ever, think of or plan. The ego mind just doesn't have that kind of Power.
I feel blessed. I feel peaceful knowing this Energy is always moving, extending itself. I smile with gratitude. I have worked hard enough to have the messages--at least some of the time-register with me. This is the best feeling: surrendering to the Benevolence of the Universe by aligning with It. "I place the future in the Loving Hands of God," I affirm and drift off to sleep.
I dream that Amanda and the sea lion are walking and swimming together in the deep blue sky. I realize that it should seem peculiar--Amanda is walking and the sea lion is swimming--but it isn't. Both Amanda's are in sync. Grace, ease and flow exudes from them as they walk and swim. I notice the sea lion is swimming around Amanda while she is walking along, encouraging her direction and attentiveness--almost like a pied piper. The sea lion is joyful, happy and certainly free of any earthly concerns it had on the beach.
Sarah calls me the next morning. I already know what she is going to tell me. "The sea lion didn't make it," she says. "They think it had an infection." Sarah's voice is sad; she thinks this means something bad. Like the whole experience was a fluke of some kind, devoid of meaning and power. Another illusion, that we do not choose the meaning of circumstances and events. Then the voice says, "Don't forget." I remind myself that here is my second chance to say what needs to be said.
I tell Sarah that I choose to believe we live in a loving and kind universe and that God uses all things for good. I tell Sarah that I will never ever forget watching Amanda tune into the sea lion in such a deep and meaningful way. I affirm the circumstance contains power to nurture whatever possibilities exist next. I affirm how grateful I am for being part of the entire lesson. Ego says, "The circle of life" and I don't listen to it. Power says, "Resurrection. Any time you choose to remember this you are lifted above circumstance." In one form, the sea lion is dead. In another form, it is very much alive and will continue to be.
Sarah shifts--I can feel it. "You are right" she says, "There is no end to the blessings that can come out of this." Sarah commits to taking Amanda to the Long Marine Lab at UCSC to see the sea lions and dolphins they have at the lab. The future is full of promise and I ask her to keep in touch.
My ego mind wants me to choose to succumb to the sadness of the sea lions death. But my right mind, the one I choose to surrender to the Power of the Universe, knows better. Today the mind I share with the Divine maintains the affirmation, "All things work together for the good of all--even if my ego mind sees it differently." My ego mind chatters on here and there. AND I choose not to feed it by giving it any attention or energy.
I open my email to find a note from the fisherman. He tells me that he got my email address from Amanda's dad, John. I recall giving my email to John after he said yes to Amanda waiting for the rangers to come and pick up the sea lion. The fisherman hopes I do not mind him contacting me, but he figures I'd know what happened to the sea lion. He hasn't been able to stop thinking about the sea lion. Unbeknownst to me, the fisherman joined the crowd around the sea lion. His name is Martin and he is on leave--bereavement leave. He has lost his wife.
Martin closes his email, "I don't know why this is so important to me. I hope you don't think me frivolous."
Observer notes me "oooh and aaaaahhhhing" at the Power of the Universe. The voice says, "All things work together for good." I decide to tell Martin the sea lion lives, and then tell him how. So I wrote the note you just finished reading.
What a beautiful day. The wind is gently but firmly coming off the water. The sun is crisp and bright. The air is cool. It is a great day to fly a kite.
Karen Monroy guides clients to sustainable prosperity by removing the fear and mystery of financing and money.
Karen is a member of the Conscious Business Circle and regularly conducts classes and seminars on The Power of Money and Getting the Energy of Money Working for You.
Dr. Monroy is the author of an award-winning book which will transform your relationship with money: "30 Day Money Master Mind Makeover"
Karen can be reached by email with questions or comments at Karen@KarenMonroy.com
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