Of Two-Way Streets and Enriching Dichotomies

  

Our world of apparent duality offers a wealth of disguised enrichment opportunities. Consider:

A cyber buddy who currently lives creatively without residence wondered why a stranger would open her home and heart to her. She emailed, "I don't understand why she's being so amazingly generous. I keep telling her she just blows me away."

I responded, "You never know what her own journey is…she may have needed to serve someone in exactly this way, and you are providing a golden opportunity, so it is a mutuality."

This is the way energy works. When my lifelong friend Ellie fell and broke her hip at 96, requiring a lengthy convalescence in a rehabilitation center and later at home, I initially despaired about why Spirit didn't simply call her Home.

Then I had a flash of insight: the enforced passivity enabled my fiercely independent friend to learn to receive, and blessed those who assisted her with the joy of service. I told her, "You would never have allowed it otherwise." With wonder and her trademark humility, Ellie exclaimed, "Amara, you're right!"

The Good, the Bad, and the Beautiful

What appears adverse can be advantageous. I needed to park my car on a different street due to an upcoming festival, and planned to be out of town the following week. I gave the young man who acts as my "car surrogate" the spare key, and asked him to please move the car back once the festival was over.

Unbeknownst to me, a road crew was about to repave the street; tow-away signs went up the day after I left. If the festival hadn't been scheduled (and, therefore, if I hadn't given Danny my spare key) my car would have been parked in its normal spot — and towed during the week I was away!

More profoundly: A dear friend was in a near-fatal motorcycle crash earlier this year. After a month in the ICU, he learned he'd need a walker once out of bed, and would have only minimal use of his right hand for the rest of his life (he's a southpaw, but still…). Eight months later, Rick says, "The accident was the best thing that ever happened to me."

During his convalescence he lost seventy pounds, and began exercising several hours a day as part of his physical therapy program; the combination reversed his adult-onset diabetes. He's grateful every day for the gift of life, and more open than he's ever been. He says, "I cry if I'm happy, I cry if I'm sad.

"And you know what? It feels amazing. I have nothing to hide now; what others think of me is no longer my concern. I can be emotionally honest. I feel like this is another piece of the silver lining surrounding that terrible trauma."

Sustained by his new outlook and the outpouring of love and support from friends and family, Rick's regained almost full use of his right hand, and returned to work — as a practicing physician. Practice makes perfect.

Once you've been through the fire, you're recast as pure essence; the superficial no longer holds sway in your life.

How Your Light Is Spent

Milton's sonnet, When I Consider How My Light is Spent, exemplifies the nature of life's dichotomies, and how we choose to interpret our time here. The full text reads:

When I consider how my light is spent

Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,

And that one talent which is death to hide

Lodg'd with me useless, though my soul more bent

To serve therewith my Maker, and present

My true account, lest he returning chide;

"Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?"

I fondly ask. But Patience to prevent

That murmur, soon replies: "God doth not need

Either man's work or his own gifts; who best

Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state

Is kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed

And post o'er land and ocean without rest:

They also serve who only stand and wait.

"Apprehension" means both anxiety ­and understanding. If you apprehend the meaning behind Milton's final line, you will understand that simply being is what matters most.

Whoever or whatever your messenger is, listen deeply. Once you apprehend the message, invite yourself to let go, so that you may embrace this wisdom farther along life's spiral. Allow yourself to be amused by the alchemical nature of any apparent dichotomy that shows up in your life. And know there's an invisible cosmic trampoline beneath you, so you can rebound from pain's mirage, spread your wings, and fly.

© Copyright September 2017 by Amara Rose. All rights reserved.

Is Your Business Sick ~ Or Dispirited?

For many of us in Western culture, illness catalyzes and informs our awakening to life purpose, particularly in these evolutionary times. The summer I had pneumonia, I asked myself, "If I died, what would I regret?" The answer came quietly: "You haven't loved." This surprised me, and then I heard, "You haven't served." I began to understand how love and service are one — and that love, service, and prosperity all course from the same well.

In the business milieu, we (individually and collectively) are sick because we are dis-spirited — without spirit, or breathless. Spirit means breath: "inspire" is, literally, "to breathe in"; "expire" means to breathe out, or die. So spirit plays a key role in health/wholeness/wellness/wel(th). We say, "Where's your company spirit?" when we ought to start with, "Where's your personal spirit?"

READ THE REST!

How to Have a Happy Orange Life

I once heard a story of three monks who had only one orange between them. The first blessed it and passed it to his brother, who blessed it and passed it to his brother. The trio kept on like this for hours, until the orange was brilliant with light, and the three of them were sated well beyond any hunger of the stomach.

I recalled this parable yesterday after a series of mini transformations. In this incredible time of awakening, the smallest act can lift us up or plummet us — and this energy affects everyone.

I was at a gas station, and the squeegee didn't seem to be working very well; I had drips running down the windshield. Mumbling about worn-out tools that needed to be replaced, I got back in my car and was preparing to depart, when I noticed a man re-doing my windshield ministrations.

Astonished, I asked, "What are you doing? Do you work here?" I realized he was the driver of the truck at the pump in front of me. He replied, "You seemed a little upset, so I redid it for you. My dad taught me how to clean a windshield without streaks." I said, "You’re amazing, thank you so much!" My mood did a 180 and lifted towards heaven with this simple, selfless act. As I drove away, we both wished each other a wonderful afternoon.

It wasn't until later that I remembered I'd spied a disabled woman at the library just prior to getting gas, whose shirt label was sticking out, and asked if she'd like me to fix it. She responded as though I'd offered to buy her a house: "Oh, thank you so much, sweetheart!"

Tiny actions; huge returns.

Then I drove to the park, taking my travel soap along to wash my hands after pumping gas. Once on foot, I walked past the home of an elderly gentleman who often sits in his driveway on nice days, enjoying the view from his wheelchair. He hailed me, and I stopped to chat. Seeing the front door open, I asked if I might use the kitchen sink to wash my hands. He said, of course.

Inside, his caretaker emerged from the back of the house and said, "Do you just walk into people's houses and use their facilities?" My experience of her has been like this before; she is clearly a very unhappy person. I was feeling so good from the previous encounters I didn't want her sourness to steal my joy, so I politely responded that Harold had given permission for me to come inside, then quickly dried my hands and left.

Walking in the park, I stopped to stretch, and another walker smiled and remarked, "You have beautiful hair!" This comment prompted me to share the extraordinary series of encounters that had just taken place, and the incredible power we all have to shift energy. If we're having a down day (or a down life), we don't need to siphon off anyone else's light, I reminded him (and me!); we can simply "dial direct." There's plenty of Light to spare.

Wishing you a happy orange life…

A Kinder, Gentler Humanity?

Change arrives not with a bang but with a whisper, and it's only our attunement that alerts us to its presence. While I know all is reflection — that how you act/react is in some way related to my behavior — yesterday two small but distinct interactions stood out as heralding a quantum leap in human compassion and kindness. Each is so tiny that you might wonder, "What's the big deal?" Yet aggregated with the myriad other such expressions of kindness and caring taking place in lives right now around the globe, I venture to say a shift in consciousness is indeed underway:

In the morning, I needed to print several pages while at the library. Though I have my own laptop, I long ago gave away my printer, so on the rare occasion I need to print something, I send the document to my web-based email, log on to a library computer, and send it to their printer, which then requires coins to print out the document. Laborious, though not time-intensive. The only challenge is getting onto a library PC, because they're usually in perpetual use during the hours of library operation.

I approached a miraculously free machine just as a young man slid into the seat and was entering his library card number. I said apologetically, "I was just on my way over here to print a few pages — will you be long?" He looked up, smiled, stood up, and said, "Go ahead!" I was amazed, and promised to be quick. Four minutes later I found him, gestured to the free machine, and thanked him again for his patience and kindness. He didn't seem to think he'd done anything special, so I added, "It's rare." Though possibly, becoming less so.

In late afternoon, I pulled into a busy gas station to refuel my ancient Toyota, which looks a lot worse than it runs. A fellow at the next pump smiled a few times, then came over to speak. I thought he might need directions, but he said, "I don't want to impose, but did you know your left front tire is low on air?" I did indeed. I smiled back and said, "Yes, it has a slow leak, but thank you very much! I really appreciate your concern."

As I drove away, I marveled at these two small demonstrations from strangers that we are becoming more connected, more caring, more open to serving our brothers and sisters from a full heart. Subtle shifts make all the difference, as I've written before: it's a tiny step and a quantum leap from scared and scarred to sacred, from density to destiny, from tough to touch, from passive to passion, from buying to being. And encounter-by-encounter, heart to heart, we're growing here.