I had a little exchange on FB yesterday that I thought was fascinating. It was with a man I met at a metaphysical party. This is a man who knows and sees the world as it really is -- waves of energy that we conform into our own experiences. Yet, yesterday he went on FB boo-hooing about his heart being broken because of failed expectations. Someone else didn't live up to what he thought they would. I realized that those crazy expectations have always been at the root of my own discontent. People don't need to live up to my expectations. Who am I to dictate how someone else should act? Hm...it got me to thinking how beautifully the universe gave me the experience to see what was in me that needed some tweaking. Thank you, Daniel, for playing your part. You did it beautifully. What an amazing ballet this dance called life is.
And that's all it is. It's just a dance of energies.
Yesterday morning I got a message from Abraham/Hicks about -- well, I'll just copy and paste it here, because there's no way I can paraphrase it and still get the magnificence of the meaning across.
"When you croak, Oh, you'll be abundant. You say - Then I'll hardly need the money to pay the rent will I? (laughter). And we say it is energetic anyway, you see. Stop counting it as money in your bank account and start counting it as emotion in your belly.
Start counting it as vibrational alignment. Start spending the real stuff of the universe.
Spend the thought, spend the clarity, spend the vibration. Come in alignment with the energy that creates worlds. This is energy that creates worlds that we are talking about. It is much much bigger than what you call your economy."
This is how I feel about my own life now that I'm immersed in the internet. I'm creating worlds. As a writer I always felt that. My characters spoke to me constantly. I saw their homes, their towns, and their friends. I lived there with them as the books were being written. Sometimes they still remind me that they're still here.
As an artist I would get images in my head of what needed to be expressed in fabric and paint and while working on the pieces I'd know who was sending me the ideas. It was never anyone I knew in the physical world.
So, I've looked at the dichotomy of my physical/intangible worlds here and realized just how much more magnificent and rich the intangible one is. Everything is at my command. The bank account is really in the universe, the energy that I'm connected to, not in a building. And what really is a bank account besides dots of ink on paper when it shows up in the mail? There's no little vault in a bank building with my name attached to it, saying that this is my money sitting in here. There's nothing but my information on computer screens in banks around the world. That's all it is. We trust day after day that when we drive up to the bank we will get what their pieces of paper says belongs to us. But lately, that's not so sure either.
What is real? What is the same for us all? What do each of us sees that's identical to everyone else's sight? Is there anything at all? And we get upset when others don't agree with us. Why should they? They live in their own world, not ours. They're here just for a moment to interact with us, so we can rearrange our own dreams to fit into a perception that works for us. And then something else happens and our perceptions spring leaks. We can see the flaws in those misconceptions too.
It's all just energy. Energy that flows in waves. It's never the same. It never stops moving. Then why do we think -- ever -- that things will be what we think they are? Our thoughts are just the masses of what we form after perceiving our own what ises. And then we discover what we thought was is, is not. Oops, there it goes again, like a helium-filled balloon in the breeze. It's not meant to stay. Change is constant. Truth is undulating patterns of perception. There is no black and white. There is only gray. By the time I finish this draft, my perceptions will be tested again, and found to not be true again.
So, why not just be? Why not stop the madness of perceiving anything as I think it should be? Because the madness is why I came here. Home is blissful all the time. I chose manic craziness. I chose amnesia upon my return here. What was I thinking? I was thinking from a whole different perspective apparently -- the one that I was always safe and loved and provided for, that nothing, absolutely nothing could be harmful and all was perfectly in alignment with my source. That's where I came from, and when I arrived here, I forgot all of it. And now on this journey, I'm slowly remembering. I'm remembering who I really am, and what an illusion it all is. It is truly just a dream -- over and over and over.