It still surprises me that no matter how clearly I “know” something, it must be lived out and actually experienced in order to be real. Take worthiness, for instance. I “know” I’m worthy of all good things. I “know” the mere fact of my existence on the planet means I deserve abundance, pleasure, joy, ease and grace. Yet, over years and eons of time, I’ve taken on heaps of belief systems that run exactly opposite to that truth. Sure, by now a lot have been found and discarded… or have they? Did I actually let them go, or just bury them a little deeper beneath my brilliant logic?
Fortunately, the dragon is quite thorough when it comes to digging up the remnants of garbage still scattered around my almost-pristine inner world. Besides her persistence, I swear that damned shapeshifter has a sense of humor too. And yes, I have a story to tell.
First, a reminder of something Adamus said in the December Shoud. With great passion, he declared: “You should be enjoying the experience of being on the road – one of those open, nicely curvy roads with a beautiful landscape around it – going fast on a beautiful day. That’s what it’s all about. That’s what you’re here for. You’re not here for the thinking. Most people just think, and never experience what it’s like to drive, to be in the car – a convertible with the top down and the music playing away – and just enjoying. That’s the experience. Most people just think and forget to experience. But Masters, they do it different.”
By the time he’d said all that, I was feeling quite proud of myself, even jokingly accusing Adamus of spying on me, because what he described was exactly what I’d just been doing! Through an unexpected series of events, a hot little Mazda Miata sports car had recently come into my possession, and I’d driven it to the studio that very morning, top down, making the most of the winter sunshine. And what’s more satisfying than being able to say, “Ha, look at me, I already got it!”
However, as the saying goes, pride goes before a fall. Well, it wasn’t a “fall” so much as me needing to forget about showing off to Adamus, drop the everlasting and oh-so-subtle quest for approval, and make it all about my own integration.
A few days after the Shoud, I drove my little hotrod to the mechanic for a checkup. After getting a clean bill of health, I had a couple more errands, followed by the lovely drive home to tuck my new baby in the garage for the winter. Here in Colorado, there’s a short stretch of freeway between Louisville and Boulder where the traffic just flies down the open road. My next appointment was in Boulder, so I put the top down, cranked up my favorite song, and hit the gas. Shouting to Adamus – “Yes! This is the life!” – I pumped my fist to the sky in pure joy. At precisely that exact moment, the car died.
Zooming down the hill in the fast lane at 80 mph (128 kph), my car simply went dead! The motor stalled, all the error lights came on, the power went out of the steering and brakes. After trying unsuccessfully to restart, I eased across the lanes, cutting off drivers with an apologetic wave, and slowly coasted to a stop on the shoulder, as far away as possible from the roaring traffic. Just when everything was absolutely perfect, it all went wrong. What the hell?
I took several deep breaths and tried again and again to start the car, to no avail. All systems were completely unresponsive. I called the mechanic shop; they were very sorry, but of course couldn’t do anything over the phone. Reluctantly I cancelled my appointment in Boulder and called for roadside assistance, annoyed that my conscious breathing and magical thinking hadn’t restored everything to perfect order.
There was nothing to do but wait, my sweet little convertible now the object of amusement and pity for the thousands of drivers roaring past. And it was cold. Having the top down and heater off would be a permanent situation until the engine was resurrected. Cold wind blowing my hair, I zipped up my coat and glared at the sky. At least the snowstorm wasn’t due for a couple more hours.
Finally, the flatbed truck arrived, loaded up my car (it’s too small to tow), and we drove the 10 minutes back to the shop. Once it was unloaded, I handed over the key, ready to throw a fit if it started right up for the mechanic. But no, it didn’t work for him either, although he did notice that the antitheft system had been triggered. When the car’s computer thinks you don’t have the right key transponder, it shuts down. But how the hell does that happen at top speed on the highway?? Why would the system suddenly decide I was stealing my own car? Even the mechanic was baffled.
I called my daughter for a ride, wondering how I’d get the Miata back home with all the snow in the forecast (they’re not exactly designed for winter driving). While waiting, the mechanic informed me that his equipment couldn’t even talk to the car. That morning they’d been able to check all sorts of readings with their computer; now the system would tell nothing. Eventually, he found a blown fuse and replaced it, only to have it instantly blow out again. About that time my daughter arrived to take her grumpy mother home.
Warmed up and back at work several hours later than expected, I had to wonder what the hell my energy was doing… or what I was doing with my energy. Or, as Adamus would ask, “What’s the energy communication in all this?”
To me, this lovely little car represents a whole new joy of life, letting myself relax, play, and choose something because it’s fun instead of practical. If the car needed to reset itself to my energy, couldn’t it be a little more convenient about the process? And anyway, what actually happened?? I’d found some obscure webpage that said mobile signals or other wireless technology could possibly interfere with the antitheft system, but I’ve never heard of cars just shutting down in the middle of the freeway. Maybe it was the intense sunbursts making news that day, but nobody else was having this problem. What was the REAL energy communication?
With assistance from a very wise friend, it finally became clear.
The truth is, I’ve gone through a LOT these last few weeks (and months and years). Like so many of us who are determined to grant ourselves freedom, I’ve overcome a ton of challenges and old programming from this and other lifetimes. To me, this car represents that long-sought freedom, as well as pleasure, joy, abundance and abandon; literally a Master living the hell out of life.
But then, in this wide open moment of joy and freedom, the car shuts down! WTF? 80 mph and the fuse blows?! I’m safe, the car isn’t damaged, but there’s a huge energy looming around all of this.
Okay, look deeper. A fuse is a limiter, designed to fail when there’s too much energy running through the system. Kind of like inner aspects that are designed to “blow” when I get too close to something they’re trying to protect. What’s the real issue? Ah, here it is: Am I worthy?
No really, am I ACTUALLY worthy of such indulgent extravagance?
There are a surprising number of voices inside that don’t think so. Just a few days earlier, I’d been talking with a family elder who blamed all the world’s woes on people putting themselves first. What if that’s true? Am I honestly worthy of this car and everything it represents? Do I really deserve such luxurious fun when people around me – even people I love – are struggling and suffering?
That is the energy communication question. While the answer is obvious to my mind, clearly I haven’t allowed myself to experience it fully. Will I replace the fuses just to have them blow again? Do I even need the fuses anymore?
A few days later, things were still not at peace. No matter how logically I “knew” what that crazy episode was about, no matter how much I told myself “I’m worthy, I’m worthy,” it was still all in my head. Nothing had taken root deep within my being, and nothing had really changed.
I felt restless, like stuff was chewing at me on the inside, and I needed to get out of the house. Heading to town in my oh-so-sensible Toyota, mind and body occupied with driving, I was my own captive audience. A perfect setup for some clarity and energy moving.
And my, oh my, there was energy ready to move! The moment I got in the car, a deep rumbling anger started churning toward the surface. No, actually, it was fury. Glaring, growling, shouting, I had no clue what had triggered such a sudden ferocious anger. Howling my way down the hill, I finally took a breath and said out loud, “Yes, I feel you, angry part of me. But you are not in control. I may feel and even express your emotion, but I will not act you out.” I could tell it was enjoying the rush of energy and attention, and if I let it take over, I’d soon be careening recklessly down the road in that sort of mood where you just don’t care what happens. This was an aspect – a very angry one – but no way was I giving up my sovereignty to it. I clearly felt its fury, but it was not ME.
When it realized I wouldn’t take the bait, it calmed down a little. Still talking out loud, I puzzled, “Why are you so angry? What does all this fury have to do with worthiness and receiving?” I honestly didn’t understand, but I knew the answer would come.
A few more miles down the road, clarity began to emerge. Beneath that white-hot anger was intense sorrow, betrayal, grief and pain, pouring out from all the parts of self that had wanted to receive but were denied. They had believed they were worthy of every good thing, but then came the teachings of guilt and shame, original sin, how lowly humans only deserve torment and damnation. Like bright-eyed children whose magic is rejected, the simple purity of these other selves had been crushed, until all that was left was anger.
Now I understood.
My heart opened. Taken aback by what I’d put myself through, all I could do was breathe. Stopped at the traffic light, I found a tissue and wiped away the tears. Where moments before I could only feel blind rage, now I was filled with compassion. And a question.
How to integrate these parts of me, now off sulking in the corner, regretting they had even let themselves be seen? They hadn’t suddenly become friendly with my recognition. Oh no, this grudge was ancient. My soul had the answer.
“I’m so, so sorry for what you went through,” I said out loud as traffic began moving again. “I truly feel your pain, dear self of me, every bit of it.”
Unconvinced, there was no response from within, but I knew what was true. “The way to fix this,” I continued, “is that now you get to receive every good thing through me! That’s why I called you out and that’s why I’m here, to make everything right again, to be worthy again.”
I took a few more deep breaths, distracted by the traffic, the weather, the to do list in my head. When I returned to the inner awareness, those angry, sulking, hurt feelings were nowhere to be found. They had snuck home while I wasn’t looking.
Now am I worthy? Well, there are a lot fewer parts of me who don’t think so, that’s for sure. And there’s more of ME to remember that I am. Are there still aspects that will need to blow a fuse or cause some other calamity just when life is getting good? It doesn’t really matter. What matters is reminding myself that the mere fact of my existence is enough to deserve life, joy, abundance, pleasure and freedom. Anything else is a lie that I no longer need to believe.
So, what about my lovely little Miata? After spending hours searching for the issue, the mechanic called me the next day with the diagnosis. While he was underneath the car for the umpteenth time trying to find the problem, something literally fell and hit him in the face – a freshly deceased mouse! At some point it had crawled up into the works and chewed on the wires which, in a moment of supremely ironic timing, shifted just enough to short out against the engine block and shut down the entire car.
A mouse. My energy in communication. An aspect, a pest (aspest?) sneaking around in the most unlikely places, gnawing at stuff incessantly and messing up the wiring, aka my energy flow. I wasn’t victim to an energy burst from the sun or cell phone microwaves or alien brain beams. There was just a part of my Self that didn’t know any better, still trying to look after me in its own limiting way by stopping the flow when it got to be too much. A pretty effective fuse stuck in the ‘not worthy’ slot.
As the mechanic ended our call and closed up shop for their holiday party, he chuckled about the story he’d be telling his buddies that night, something about “getting moused in the face.”
And me? Well, I did say, “Whatever it takes.” I just didn’t expect my dragon to be quite so creative, nor that it would take the form of a mouse. However, with the inner rewiring mostly done, it seems like a pretty good time to retire all those old fuses.