The black smoke billowing up from the intersection signaled an accident. I slowed, and it began to clear. A large, grey pickup, approaching from my left, had jumped the curb on the near right corner and slammed into the cement-brick wall of a housing development. Large bits of rubber scattered through the intersection suggested the culprit was a massive tire blowout.
I focused as the soul in my heart, aligned upward with Divine Intent, and then outward with the current situation.
The wall appeared undamaged, but the hood of the truck had crumpled upwards. I could see the driver silhouetted within, pushing the buttons on a cell phone. The suburban housewife ahead of me stepped out of her SUV and glanced around, assessing the situation.
From the heart, I aligned outward with the driver, and all of those who had witnessed and been impacted by the accident.
A trucker had pulled over, hopped out of his truck, and was nearing the car. Several other drivers, in better position than I, were approaching as well.
From the driver and the witnesses I aligned upward, directly to the overshadowing Divine Intent.
The light ahead of us turned green. The suburban housewife decided that the situation was well in hand, got back into her SUV, and continued on.
Holding the alignment, I followed, clearing the way for the vehicles behind.
Namaste,
Glen
Am off to a conference in Phoenix and will be offline for 12 days. More when I return. G.K.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Saturday, April 18, 2009
30% Off
I turned off the screen and stood up. I’d been sitting in front of my computer for hours, and it was time to get out of the house. I briefly considered taking a walk, but decided I needed to be around people. As I scooped my wallet out of the basket on my dresser, I noticed the Borders’ coupon next to it, and felt the desire for another book.
It is an old desire – the need for escape, for adventure, to be someone important – given shape and form when I learned to read (first through comic books, and later through fantasy and science fiction). Being one of the first, it would likely be one of the last to be transmuted. But I was making progress.
The local bookstore is only a mile away – at the same intersection as my bank, grocers, health club, and office supply store – making it quite convenient.
When I walked in, I headed directly to the books I was currently reading, the latest fantasy by Patricia Briggs, and a book on the 2008 presidential campaign. Both were hardcover, and cost more than I was willing to spend (even with the coupon). But it didn’t cost anything to sit in the bookstore’s coffee shop (Seattle’s Best) and read.
First, however, I had some more work to do.
From the corner where I sat, I could see the comic book and magazine racks, a good portion of the book shelves, and I had a work by one of my favorite authors in my hand. I was immersed in the outer form of my desire, surrounded by people who shared it. It was perfect.
I focused in my heart, took a deep breath, and aligned upward, through the center at the top of the head with the source of Spiritual Fulfillment.
From the heart, I took another deep breath, and aligned outward, through the desire to have books, the need for escape, for adventure, to be someone important – in myself and in everyone who desired books.
Then I breathed Spiritual Fulfillment downward, into my heart, and outward to the place of that desire. I breathed Fulfillment in and out, in and out, in and out, transforming that desire.
When the transformation was as complete as I could make it in that session, still holding the focus in the heart and the alignment with Fulfillment, I opened the book to my previous place and began to read.
Namaste,
Glen
It is an old desire – the need for escape, for adventure, to be someone important – given shape and form when I learned to read (first through comic books, and later through fantasy and science fiction). Being one of the first, it would likely be one of the last to be transmuted. But I was making progress.
The local bookstore is only a mile away – at the same intersection as my bank, grocers, health club, and office supply store – making it quite convenient.
When I walked in, I headed directly to the books I was currently reading, the latest fantasy by Patricia Briggs, and a book on the 2008 presidential campaign. Both were hardcover, and cost more than I was willing to spend (even with the coupon). But it didn’t cost anything to sit in the bookstore’s coffee shop (Seattle’s Best) and read.
First, however, I had some more work to do.
From the corner where I sat, I could see the comic book and magazine racks, a good portion of the book shelves, and I had a work by one of my favorite authors in my hand. I was immersed in the outer form of my desire, surrounded by people who shared it. It was perfect.
I focused in my heart, took a deep breath, and aligned upward, through the center at the top of the head with the source of Spiritual Fulfillment.
From the heart, I took another deep breath, and aligned outward, through the desire to have books, the need for escape, for adventure, to be someone important – in myself and in everyone who desired books.
Then I breathed Spiritual Fulfillment downward, into my heart, and outward to the place of that desire. I breathed Fulfillment in and out, in and out, in and out, transforming that desire.
When the transformation was as complete as I could make it in that session, still holding the focus in the heart and the alignment with Fulfillment, I opened the book to my previous place and began to read.
Namaste,
Glen
Friday, April 17, 2009
Abundance
Dad said goodbye, to another client on the verge of bankruptcy, and hung up his phone.
It had been the usual sort of call – no, they did not need anyone, business was practically nonexistent and they were surviving on the stock in their warehouse. The bank had cut back or cancelled their line of credit, and they didn’t know how long their company could survive.
Dad is an executive recruiter for the specialty metals business. Most of his client companies supply the aerospace industry, which is supposed to be doing comparatively well, but not from his end.
We share office space, and during the past months I’ve overheard many calls like that one. It had been a long time since dad made a placement, and my parent’s finances were getting desperate.
Seated at my desk, I sat up straight and moved into my heart.
From the heart, I aligned upward with the deva of the New Economy, and via that deva with the Divine Plan.
Then I aligned outward, with my parents and through my parents with all of their inner and outer patterns related to finance.
Holding that alignment, I silently sounded the following:
“I hereby demand, in Divine Law and Order, and with the assistance of Pan and of the Ashram of Synthesis …sufficient income for my mom and dad to meet their regular needs, including a place to live, food, clothing, healthcare, transportation, recreation, and work, with enough left over to give something to others, all to appear as soon as possible.
“I demand this in Divine Law and Order and in service to The Plan. Thank you.”
I sounded a silent OM, and after a few moments returned my attention to my computer.
Namaste,
Glen
It had been the usual sort of call – no, they did not need anyone, business was practically nonexistent and they were surviving on the stock in their warehouse. The bank had cut back or cancelled their line of credit, and they didn’t know how long their company could survive.
Dad is an executive recruiter for the specialty metals business. Most of his client companies supply the aerospace industry, which is supposed to be doing comparatively well, but not from his end.
We share office space, and during the past months I’ve overheard many calls like that one. It had been a long time since dad made a placement, and my parent’s finances were getting desperate.
Seated at my desk, I sat up straight and moved into my heart.
From the heart, I aligned upward with the deva of the New Economy, and via that deva with the Divine Plan.
Then I aligned outward, with my parents and through my parents with all of their inner and outer patterns related to finance.
Holding that alignment, I silently sounded the following:
“I hereby demand, in Divine Law and Order, and with the assistance of Pan and of the Ashram of Synthesis …sufficient income for my mom and dad to meet their regular needs, including a place to live, food, clothing, healthcare, transportation, recreation, and work, with enough left over to give something to others, all to appear as soon as possible.
“I demand this in Divine Law and Order and in service to The Plan. Thank you.”
I sounded a silent OM, and after a few moments returned my attention to my computer.
Namaste,
Glen
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Good Friday
I speared another chunk of omelet with my fork as Brad said, “We should nuke ‘em all.”
Brad looks like he was a linebacker in high school – large, heavyset, and immovable. A former member of my parent’s Episcopal church, he’d left when the denomination elected its first openly-gay Bishop.
He’d shown up unexpectedly that morning, we’d invited him to share our breakfast, and he launched into a conversation with dad on the Somali pirates.
I moved into my heart as my dad said, “Remember Christ’s compassion in forgiving the men who arrested him and in replacing Malchus’ ear after Peter cut it off.”*
Brad frowned in incomprehension as he stared at dad. He did not get the point at all. The idea of compassion to those who would do you harm seemed beyond his understanding.
I aligned outward from the Heart to Brad’s aura, and found it dark and murky – full of sticky old patterns of thought and feeling. It was little wonder that the light of compassion could not penetrate.
There was, of course, another light that would be there. If I could find it, I’d have a place to start.
I aligned upward from the heart, with the Light of Christ, and holding that alignment, silently sounded the OM.
A tiny point of purplish brown glowed within his heart – blue veiled by murky reds – the Light of Christ within.
I aligned that Light upward, directly to its source, and sounded another OM invoking the compassion of Christ, the World Teacher.
Holding that note, I continued my breakfast as Dad and Brad talked.
Namaste,
Glen
*See: John 18:10-11
Brad looks like he was a linebacker in high school – large, heavyset, and immovable. A former member of my parent’s Episcopal church, he’d left when the denomination elected its first openly-gay Bishop.
He’d shown up unexpectedly that morning, we’d invited him to share our breakfast, and he launched into a conversation with dad on the Somali pirates.
I moved into my heart as my dad said, “Remember Christ’s compassion in forgiving the men who arrested him and in replacing Malchus’ ear after Peter cut it off.”*
Brad frowned in incomprehension as he stared at dad. He did not get the point at all. The idea of compassion to those who would do you harm seemed beyond his understanding.
I aligned outward from the Heart to Brad’s aura, and found it dark and murky – full of sticky old patterns of thought and feeling. It was little wonder that the light of compassion could not penetrate.
There was, of course, another light that would be there. If I could find it, I’d have a place to start.
I aligned upward from the heart, with the Light of Christ, and holding that alignment, silently sounded the OM.
A tiny point of purplish brown glowed within his heart – blue veiled by murky reds – the Light of Christ within.
I aligned that Light upward, directly to its source, and sounded another OM invoking the compassion of Christ, the World Teacher.
Holding that note, I continued my breakfast as Dad and Brad talked.
Namaste,
Glen
*See: John 18:10-11
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Americans Only
I gazed uphill, past the grass and through the trees to the tumbled line of mossy granite boulders. I imagined a gazebo and a lotus pond in the flat area beyond the boulders. Isolated and quiet, it would be an excellent meditation spot.
The 5 acres were beautiful, with a gorgeous view of the valley’s oaks and wildflowers. The double-wide mobile home was in superb condition. The previous owner had refurbished and redecorated before her sudden passing. Everything was new, and the add-on in back made it almost as big as a triple wide.
The only sounds breaking the silence were the songs of birds, the wind in the trees, and the roar of the rider-mower passing back and forth in front of the double-wide. The most beautiful plot I’d seen so far, I was sure my brother and his fiancé would love it.
The mower finished his task, drove up the driveway, and stopped next to our truck. He was an older man, with gray hair in a military cut under a jungle-camouflage military cap. His face had sagged with the years, softening the hard lines.
“Beautiful country!”
“What?” He asked, deafened by time or the mower.
“It’s beautiful country!”
“Too damn many Asians and other foreigners. They should all just go home and leave it to us real Americans.”
I lifted my left eyebrow in response (a facial expression learned long ago in mirror imitation of Mr. Spock) and moved into my heart.
From the heart, I aligned upward to the overshadowing soul of humanity, and outward to the soul of the mower.
Then I recognized that everyone is soul, and all soul is one.
And recognizing the soul of the mower, I continued the conversation.
Namaste,
Glen Knape
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