Waiting For SynchronicityWritten by Stephanie Yeh
Do you remember scene in movie “The Minority Report” where Tom Cruise is escaping with psychic or “precognitive” and they are being pursued in mall? In that scene, psychic keeps telling Tom Cruise to “Wait! Wait…wait…wait.” She’s telling him to wait for moment of perfect synchrony, when a man with a huge bunch of balloons will stand in just right place and hide them from their pursuers. The whole time she’s telling him to wait, though, Tom Cruise is anxious and ready to run.
Now doesn’t that sound like scene from our own lives? At least, that’s how Universe would see us as we go about our daily activities. Here’s what it sees: we ask Universe to bring us something and Universe immediately leaps into action to bring it to us. But rather than simply waiting for that moment of synchrony, when all factors come together in perfect order, we leap into action and try to “make everything work.” If we would just wait for moment of perfect synchrony, as Tom Cruise did in movie, we would find that it would come to us – easily, peacefully and without fuss.
In this society, we have an extreme bias for action, productivity and achievement. We believe that we must “do” everything in our lives, so we’re always in motion. In fact, it’s worse than that. Not only are we in motion almost every waking moment of every day, but we’ve also planned out our active motion for coming days, weeks and months. Whether it’s work, PTA meetings, hobby-type activities or sports, we are completely booked. Or even if we aren’t physically booked at every moment, we’re so mentally busy trying to “figure it out” that we might as well be doing something physical!
Allow!Written by Louise Morganti Kaelin
Life reminds me a lot of high school, where we went to different rooms with different teachers to learn different subjects. And then there was homeroom, that place where we gathered every morning to 'check in', get miscellaneous non-'technical' information we needed to go through day, greet our friends and, if we were lucky, get our homework done.
I think life is exactly like that. The classrooms don't have seats lined up in neat columns and rows, however. They're just wherever we happen to be. The teachers are whomever we happen to be with. And subjects are as varied as we are. Luckily, we weren't given a 'schedule' on that first day of life. Most of us would have opted for permanent truancy, finding an 'alternative' school somewhere on some distant and simpler planet.
The homeroom of life? That inner space where we check in with ourselves, assimilating all varied lessons, sifting through monumental stack of incoming data, incorporating that which 'feels right' into our daily lives, relegating that which doesn't to some archived file, hopefully never to be seen again. How do we get to our homeroom? By meditation, breathing, sitting with nature, running, dancing -- whatever it is that puts us in perfect peace and harmony with ourselves.
And in life, as in school, there are home-room teachers. Not really teachers, of course, but administrators and facilitators. In our calm and centered place, we find objects or individuals who represent our highest wisdom. They may be faceless and nameless or may have form, substance and history. They may be a synthesis of all wise people we have come across or they may be individuals who lived and breathed and represent pinnacle of some quality we value.
These teachers may play different roles in our life. For example, there are four separate energies I connect to when I meditate. Although I often think of them collectively, they each represent one of four major divisions of life: Mental, Emotional, Spiritual, and Physical. One, representing Mental sphere, helped me open doors I didn't know where there, allowing me to learn that oneness with all creation is possible. Another, representing Spiritual realm and through his teaching of unconditional love, has helped me experience that oneness. A third, representing Emotional, well, he has given me practical advice for living that oneness.
And yet main lessons I've learned from this third teacher are very simple, so simple that I almost missed them: first is to allow and second is to live in moment. Sounds easy, doesn't it? That's what I thought, too.
After being exposed to teachings of an Eastern philosopher, I found that I could remember only one phrase: 'All we need do is allow'. Allow what? He didn't say, so I concluded that I had to figure out that part by myself (we all know how contrary some teachers can be -- they want us to do all work!).
I started by trying to finish sentence. Allow others to be who they are? Of course, but that seemed limiting. Allow others to be? Better, but not quite right. Allow others. Allow them what? And that brought me back to allow, just allow. The same thing happened with 'Allow me to be who I am'.