Goodness, how it hits one when something new comes into life and begins to open up unforeseen possibilities! I just registered for a TeleSummit (arrogant title, don’t you think?) on Conscious Business which is not the same as the business of consciousness, but connects into it sideways. A series of speakers on internet are going to introduce the people who register to the art of doing business in the NEW way; everything from Aligning Meaning, Message and Market; Recognizing The Copycat Entrepeneur and Charging what you are Worth, to the Quest for an Heroic Business and Cosmic Comedy, the new bunch of spiel artists are going to buzz our ears for 10 sessions over a period of three weeks with inspirational ideas and personal working models that are supposed to get us jettisoned on our way to success in the new virtual internet establishment way of the now called “Multiversity” (Ok, folks, so now you know: we are no longer a part of the Universe, but of the Multiverse and whatever we do will have a Multiversal effect hopefully).
Anyway, as I said I registered for this course. Why? Good question. I have no desire to start, continue or fortify a business (non-existent other than my very small, intimate workshops which will change nothing, including the numbers on my bank account), so that can’t be it. I certainly have no desire to begin to “join” others on Facebook (which I avoided like the plague up to just a couple of months ago), Twitter, Hi-Five or any other “social” gatherings where the meeting of people is cultivated and then harvested for business purposes. I don’t even want to do business, so why register for a Conscious Business TeleSummit? Because I adore Swami Beyonananda, the cosmic comic with whom I have exchanged a few e-mails. Also because I immediately sent the F.r.e.e. Course off to my son and my friend, The Muse, hoping that it would help jumpstart them on a new path to the wealth they want and seem to need in this moment. And it was incoherent in my way of thinking to invite them to something I was not prepared to take myself. So this morning, 12 hours after the fact, I tuned into the RePlay of the first conference by Adela Rubio (could she possibly be a compatriota?? a Mexican curios??) I have to admit that I basically liked what I heard, nothing new mind you, I had heard most of it and seen it put into practice by my friend Carlos from Tucson, but he was –as far as I could see, always a loner- and this according to Adela has 2000 attendees from all over the world. Wow! But, I liked what she said, it rang true. Words like “passion”, “choice”, “evolution” and “playground” sparkled in her vocabulary; suggestions of change –“intentional awareness” instead of “intellect”; “being” instead of “doing”; “potential” in the place of “problem” (like instead of “what is the problem in this picture”, “what is the potential in this picture”) twinkled true. Openness, multiple options, willingness instead of willpower, collaboration not competition, create a movement instead of create a market. Don’t “sell” something, “offer” it. And emphasis on YOU as the center, as the creator, as the original who will find what to offer in an “energy exchange” that can become a “steward of positive results”. Perhaps something basic that really hit home was: “Do something meaningful that is aligned with your passion”, “help others”, find out what you have to offer, and what “really Works for You”. What is a joy? When I heard Adela say: “I love to write”, I thought: Me Too! And then the question: “What do I want to give?” and “What inner shift is necessary for that?” Good questions, good to know that she is not directing people to change outer reality, but rather to look inside to find the barriers to creating their own heaven on earth.
I immediately jotted off notes to the two persons I wanted to join in this conference, and then realized that it was for ME. I have no control over them, if they want to listen or not. I was getting excited. The last instruction was perhaps the most important: FOLLOW THE ENERGY.
So that I know how to do. I breathe down deeply in my chest, close my eyes, feel everything beginning to open and whisper my very secret prayer: “I’m willing…” It is a dangerous prayer because it is open, completely open: there is no wish, no desire, no control. There is absolute Trust. “I’m willing…” And then, I simply go about my day, take care of the chores at hand, do my exercises to see if I can get rid of the pain under my shoulder blade, strengthen the muscles in my arthritic ankle, relieve the discomfort in the right knee anything to insure that the body keeps doing its job for as long as it is possible. The mind takes care of the things to do I have jotted down on a piece of paper: call Insurance Company, write property administrator, cancel appointment in Barcelona, make date with physiotherapist, contact Tamara about our upcoming workshop. I think no more about what I have listened to in the morning, and yet there is a feeling in the chest, similar to butterflies but not in the stomach, there is a latent excitement even though nothing has happened.
During lunch I finish off a P.D. James murder mystery. She’s a master of what I think is called the Gothic Novel, a true follower of Agatha Christie and better. Towards the last pages, two paragraphs catch my eye and I underline them:
Why was it, she wondered, so difficult to believe that the old had been young, with the strength and animal beauty of youth, had loved, been loved, laughed and been full of youth’s unmeditated optimism?
And the second one, some pages later:
Without ceasing his work, Father Martin said. ‘Are you happy, Adam?’ ‘I have health, a job I enjoy, enough food, comfort, occasional luxuries if I feel the need of them, my poetry. Given the state of three-quarters of the world’s poor, wouldn’t you say that unhappiness would be a perverse indulgence?’
How strange, I thought that I should be underlining these speeches. I am old, of course, or rather getting there at an amazing speed, and finding it extremely difficult at times to remember what it was like when I was young, and I do enjoy everything that Adam (the detective in the novel) seems to think is enough, so both are in some way pertinent to my life at this moment, and yet, to be underlining things in a murder mystery that I will chuck away the moment I am through (although, given my short term memory these days, I might be tempted to buy it again in the near future thinking I haven’t read it yet), seems somehow strange and somehow to do with things I heard this morning. Was all that hope, energy and excitement distilled through the voice of Adela Rubio meant only for people who are young or who don’t have their basic needs, and yet more, fulfilled?
It was walking home from lunch, having finished the novel at hand, that I noticed certain thoughts appearing spontaneously in my mind: How would it be possible to go about “publishing” on internet what I am at the present writing, not to sell it mind you, but just put it out there so that anyone interested could read it. In other words, to HANG IT OUT free, no ties, nothing to buy, do or commit to. Maybe one, or none, or one hundred people would read what I have written; maybe for one it would be a model to begin writing their own experience. This new born thought was hung on the line to dry.
Oh yes, dreams, why not. Something is stirring inside, something that had not stirred for a while. Now I will open again, continue to listen to the participants in the Conference, allow the mind, My Mind, to go where it must, produce what it must, entertain these 67 years with new dreams… and who knows? Who knows?