(Now I know I can't really do anything wrong in the illusion. But believing that you can screw up is part of the game and that's one role I have embraced in the past.)
As those of you who follow this blog know, it's been kind of a busy month for me. I celebrated my birthday in Las Vegas a couple of weekends ago, then came back to Albuquerque to find out that I had until the end of September to find another place to live.
That was somewhat complicated by the fact that I had already planned to go visit my son, Teo, in Japan for 10 days this month, leaving me very little time to accomplish everything I needed to do.
Instead of being a welcome chance to reunite with my son in an exotic locale, the trip was now becoming a nuisance that was getting in the way of my life here in New Mexico. I was already wondering whether I could really afford to go. Now I had to think about a bunch of other nonsense, like where would I live when I got back? What about the paying work I might miss out on while I was gone? How much would my rent get jacked up? Who would help me move shit, and when? And would I have to take a chance at "roommate roulette?"
As I sorted through my options for living arrangements -- all fairly dismal to this point -- and agonized about how I could carefully stretch my money to the end of the year until the rest of my abundance (at least a paying job) miraculously showed up, I finally gave up. I realized that I was contracting by the minute, creating stories about my lack of abundance and choices and freedom faster than Obama switches positions on health care. And the judgment about it all wasn't helping.
That's when my Expanded Self decided to throw another option my way.
As I assessed the current state of my life, I thought to myself, what's keeping me here? Why not travel for a while? I already had a place to stay in Japan. A friend had offered to put me up in India. I have friends in Africa, Europe, South America. I could cash out what was left of my piddly 401K to get started.
Then I had my 7-11 moment. The Big Gulp.
The idea of chucking everything was both exhilarating and scary, of course. It brought up a batch of eggs around safety, survival, money and responsibility like nothing I've ever experienced before. Yet, I knew it was the right thing to do. Maybe not travel all around the world just yet, but get way out of my comfort zone and have an adventure.
Now on the scale of things in my hologram, I'm not sure where to rate this. Friends of mine travel all of the time, all over the world, doing amazing things. It's no big deal.
But the reaction to my decision was astounding.
Even as I internally agonized over every possible reason not to do this, friends, family and even strangers were cheering me on like I was a runner in mile 25 of a marathon.
It reminded me of Arnold Patent's "Mirror Principle." Arnold is one of Robert Scheinfeld's mentors. In effect, he says that what we see and experience "out there" in our illusion is really a reflection of our consciousness. Robert's version is a little more expanded, but almost the same thing. The point being, if we want to get a look at where we are consciousness-wise, just pay attention to our environment.
Now, in many other practices -- ones that I have experienced previously -- we are taught to look inward for the answers. The challenge is then to discern the mindless chatter from the voice of truth. Because of my addiction to listening to the voices in my head, I'm finding the Patent/Scheinfeld method a much easier way to gauge the state of my consciousness.
That could all change in an instant in a Zen monastery in Japan. But from the reaction, I'm guessing my consciousness is in pretty good shape. Thank you all (and me) for the support. I feel truly blessed to be able to embark on this journey.
I now get to mull over two more big questions.
We all know Expanded Self has a sense of humor. But does it have a sense of boredom? I think it does and it's much more dangerous than the sense of humor. I mean, let Expanded Self sit around with too much time on its hands and you might be guided to do something really insane like spend the last of your illusory money traveling around the world.
Secondly, do guests, like fish, really begin to smell within three days? I'm hoping in the land of sushi, they won't notice.