Living Las Vegas

“That was a bad throw!”

“Don’t you mean that was a poor catch?” John laughed as he watched his son chase the ball which had tipped off the end of his mitt. He hadn’t missed it by much. That gave John a small sense of pride – maybe his lessons were catching on. His son already had a better throwing arm than John had when he was that age, but catching the ball – that had some risk associated with it – the chance that if missed, the ball might hit the body behind the mitt, and that would hurt. ‘It doesn’t hurt if you catch the ball,’ John had advised him many times. John had used similar words when he had tried to teach his son to ride a bike. ‘If the horse throws you, get up and get back on it.’ John knew that these words were not his own, that they had been handed down, generation to generation – most of what John thought he knew had been handed to him by the world. John was still sorting through the advice of the world that he had taken on as he grew up, discarding what did not seem useful, and keeping only what aligned with his current view of himself. He was careful what he repeated to his son – at least most of the time. John didn’t want to pass on any of his own adopted fears to his son – he wanted to give him as clean a slate as possible on which to write his life.

“Catch this one, Dad!”

Before the ball left his son’s hand, John knew that it would fall short – he was too far away for the young arm. John swooped his mitt into the path of the ball and scooped it up on the first bounce.

“Not bad, little man.” John waited until his son trotted a bit closer. Range was important when learning to overcome fear. “I think your timing was a bit off. Practice throwing the ball hard into your mitt to get the feel of it.” John demonstrated, slapping the ball hard into his own mitt. He noticed how his hand responded to the cue of the ball striking the mitt, closing on it in reaction to the imposed force. “Here, you try it.” John tossed the ball lazily towards his son’s mitt. He caught it, barely.

“Keep your eye on the ball until it hits the mitt. Watch it go right into the pocket. Now, toss it hard to yourself and feel the impact before closing your hand and mitt around it.”

As his son complied, John reviewed his words. ‘Whose words are these? Who had taught him to catch a ball, or throw it, for that matter? A brother? A friend?’ John didn’t recall these words coming from his Dad. There were some things that he remembered that his Dad had taught him – how to change the tire on a car; how to light charcoal on the grill; how to drive a stick shift – but not much about sports. His Dad had been at work most of the time, it seemed. John had learned that from his Dad, he knew – ‘Money doesn’t grow on trees.’ That was one lesson that John was trying to unlearn even now. John’s ideas of what worked in the world had shifted as he had grown up.

There were many “lessons” that John had chosen to discard as no longer useful. While it seemed that the world was trying to teach John how things were, John had discovered that there were fear thoughts associated with much of it – maybe all of it! Even the words ‘Be careful’ were no longer serving John – he had let go of that farewell phrase long ago – replaced it with “Be present!” John had learned that what he feared, he actually attracted into his life. This was one lesson that he wanted to pass on into the future world of his son and anyone else close enough to listen. “What you resist, persists.” Who had shown these new truths to John? He didn’t remember, but he had discovered the truth of them for himself – often the hard way. John was still replacing reaction with observation, checking the thoughts in his mind against a new ‘scoreboard’ that measured success by peace of mind instead of acquisition.

“Throw the ball!” John readied himself for the catch, relaxing his body, softening his gaze, and slowing his breathing. His son wound his arm like a major league pitcher and whipped the ball directly at John’s face. Without thought, John stepped aside a bit, hand raising mitt simultaneously, eyes not focused on the ball but rather aware of the entire field in front of him and then of the object hurtling towards him. The ball slapped hard into the mitt. “Nice throw!” John reached into the mitt for the ball and started to cock his arm for the toss back – stopping when he realized that his son wasn’t looking at him, but was instead watching something on the street. His son stepped forward abruptly and stomped his foot, twisting his shoe as though to erase something under it.

“Gotcha!”

“You killing ants, again? What’d those ants ever do to you?”

John knew that he had killed many an ant in his day, and that his Mom had probably used these same words many times as she attempted to instill respect for life in him. John also knew that the life of one ant was inconsequential in the “big picture.” He also knew that he had sprayed his house for bugs again and again, not particularly wanting to share his domain with them. John had no use for spiders and cockroaches. No fondness for snakes, either, to take it one step further. The day before, John’s son had stepped on an ant and John’s friend, standing close by observing had said “What if you were an ant and someone did that to you?” John hadn’t known exactly what to interject then, either, although he didn’t think those words were particularly helpful, either. And what to say, now?

“Hey, son – focus your energy on the game at hand.”

‘Hmm,’ John thought, ‘ those words seemed to have some “rightness” about them – and they seem to come from a place within – some place on the path of peace that John had seemed to adopt along the way of life. John’s son looked up without acknowledging that he had heard anything, but did ready himself for the next throw.

“Keep your eye on the ball. Watch it go into the mitt.” John noticed that he hadn’t exactly kept his eye on the ball for the last catch, but still found the words useful. They fit the moment that was imminent, anyway. He tossed the ball crisply to his son, focusing on his son’s mitt, and the pocket of it, in particular. The ball traced a slight arc through the air; his son’s arm extended towards it, and the ball hit the mitt with a thud.

“Great catch! Fire it back in here!”

John was grinning. The game was still on, and he was winning.

“Every time you are tempted to react in the same old way, ask if you want to be a prisoner of the past or a pioneer of the future.” ~ Deepak Chopra

“If you yourself are at peace, then there is at least some peace in the world.” ~Thomas Merton

“You never know the effect of a word or a thought – watch what you think.” ~Brian

 “It certainly seems as if all of life is a conversation, doesn’t it?”

            John didn’t have to think much before responding. He even noticed that this was something so typical about his relationship with this person – there was no need to think before speaking – she never took offense, never seemed to judge what he was saying – instead listening intently in the moment. He found that he did the same.

            “I’m either talking with myself or with somebody!”         They both laughed at that. “But seriously, or as serious as I can be in any given moment” – laughter, again – “even my thoughts seem to be a conversation that I am having – as if one part of me is talking to another part of me!”

            “Exactly what I was saying!”

            “Of course it is! Doesn’t it even seem as if when you are talking to me that you are really talking to yourself?”

            “Yes! That’s it! I guess you really are me!

            “And you are me!” John gestured with his index finger as he spoke, pointing to her heart and then to his own. “It is the same with all perception, really. How we see the person in front of us is a reflection of how we see ourselves. There is no separation.”

            “So anytime I am aggravated by someone in front of me, I need to step back and see what it is that I don’t particularly like about myself?”

            John nodded in agreement.

            “That’s a bit scary, isn’t it? What if I am watching CSI Las Vegas and I am seeing dead bodies and evil perpetrators?”

            John paused to allow words to bubble up through his awareness. He didn’t shape the words, except with his lips, and spoke them to himself as much as to her.

            “We’d like to believe that there is no murderer within our mind, wouldn’t we – that there was no way that we could ever be so callous or intentionally cruel – but if we dared to look deep within – to that place from which our greatest irritation arises – we might not like what we see there.” John paused to consider the words that he had spoken into the space. “I can easily see that when I am truly angry with someone – even the guy who cuts me off in traffic – I ‘wish’ the worst for them! I know that I have even imagined the person getting in a wreck, and feeling rather self-satisfied with the idea that justice will be perpetrated.”

            “You sure do have a thing about traffic, don’t you? You seem to attract just that sort of situation into your life all the time.”

            “You’ve noticed, eh?” They laughed together, the cadence of their laughter almost perfectly aligned. “You bet I doo doo!” When their laughter subsided, more words arose. “There is definitely some deep intention that I have to release judgment of what is in front of me. Every time someone pulls in front of me and isn’t doing the speed limit, or whatever I seem to perceive as “wronging” me, I am giving myself the choice, once again, to release my perception from its continual habit of judging. Notice that I have to first take responsibility for what appears to be occurring. From this perspective, then, I am able to be at choice. The world isn’t happening to me, it is happening for me.”

            “Wow. So whether I am irritated by a mosquito or perceiving a war, the “wrongness” of it is something that I made up?”

            “Yes and no. You are not responsible for the war in Iraq, obviously, nor for Hitler having killed a million POW’s – these ideas, which are thoughts in our minds, arise from the One Mind which our ‘thinkers’ are all a part of. That is why it is so important to watch what we think – what we hold in our minds either diffuses or strengthens the ideas in the One Mind. Like John Lennon said: “Imagine there’s no countries, it isn’t hard to do; nothing to kill or die for, and no religion too…” She joined him in singing the rest of the lyric – “Imagine all the people, living life in peace… You may say I’m a dreamer…”

            “But it’s a great dream, isn’t it? It’s like in the Sixties – ‘Make peace, not war” – the characters held onto a dream of peace and love, and although it didn’t seem to manifest immediately, the consciousness of the planet did seem to shift. And it is the same no matter what ‘time’ it is – what we hold in our minds as ‘true’ is what we will experience.”

            “That is so true! It’s like being afraid that I don’t have enough money – then I don’t! It seems to be especially true about anything that I fear. It’s like fear attracts exactly what I am fearing into my life!”

            “Even spiders!” They laughed at this ‘private joke’ that the spiders that seemed to be in the house, which definitely bothered her, weren’t about to leave the premises until she released her fear of them.

            “Oooooh, even spiders? Can’t I make an exception there, at least?”

            “There are no degrees of ‘upset’ in the Mind. Judgment is judgment. And you can forget the whole ‘jury of my peers’ concept – it is always us judging ourselves by judging the world. The beauty of it is that if we can hold onto thoughts of love and peace and joy and come from that place all the time, then the world does shift! And all we really have to do is to change our mind about what it seems to perceive. The Berlin Wall seemed to suddenly fall, didn’t it? I can make up a story of why it fell, and add all sorts of characters to the story, but in the end it fell because it was no longer useful in the dream.”

            “I like the way you think!”

            “I made you up that way!”

            They laughed loudly at that, until tears of joy rolled down their cheeks.

            “And I attracted you into my life to say all of the things that I already knew but seemed to need someone else to say so that I could release my own ideas about the world!”

            “You may say I’m a dreamer….”

            “But I’m not the only one….”

“My heart expands every time I look at you, for my perfect sight looks only upon what is real. This is the only true gift I can give myself because it is the only gift I can truly receive. Do you understand what I mean by this? Your ego believed that it could receive things that do not belong to it. What I AM saying is that the only thing you can truly receive is what belongs to you now and always – that which could never be taken away. Accept this and it’s yours. Your acceptance is the only thing I’ve been waiting for.” ~ I Am (JamesTwymanAdmin@BelovedCommunity.org)

It was 2:00 a.m. when John hit “send” on his computer. An image of his e-mail flying out into cyberspace came up in his mind, evoking a small grin. His mind kept looking at this image, noticing what thoughts accompanied it.

‘Cyberspace looks the same in my mind as the idea that there is only “One Mind,” he noticed. ‘My e-mail is like my voice in the “One Mind” – what I am thinking or saying resonating not only with those I happen to include in the address line of the e-mail, but also with all “parts” of the collective consciousness. It is as though what I say and do and think becomes part of the “all of it.”’

The next image that arose was of the Earth, turning slowly, and his e-mailed thoughts spreading out across the space around the Earth – the Earth turning towards his thoughts, absorbing them into the collective, and making them accessible to anyone who happened to be on the same wavelength. ‘It is already 5:00 a.m. on the East Coast,’ he continued the line of thought, ‘and people are waking up and maybe reading their e-mails’ Another image, a morphing of the previous one, looked like lights coming on as the Earth turned – first on the East Coast, and then following the great revolution of the planet, lights blinking on in the Midwest, and then the Plains, the Mountains, and finally the West Coast, where John sat in Las Vegas, in what seemed to be a particular time and place. ‘Yet somehow what I am thinking and saying and doing is spreading out across the entire consciousness – and not just in the United States, either.’

Again, the image in John’s mind morphed – becoming an image of the Earth with lines of light connecting dots of lights – each point of light (“A thousand points of light” – smile) representing a mind, an awareness. The lines of light looked like an airline route map, but with many more destinations. “Fiber optic communication lines” came as a thought in John’s awareness. ‘The lines of light are connecting all thoughts, everywhere. All communication is simultaneous. That is why someone in Timbuktu can have the same idea that I am having at the same time in a different place. It is all just thought in the One Mind!’ Even in his mind, this thought carried an exclamation point. It was like a revelation – a light coming on in his mind. This thought, too, evoked a smile in John’s mind, even though the smile wasn’t actually on his face. ‘As I light up in my mind, I become part of the light of the planet, the “Light of the World!”’ Again, a smile. ‘My thoughts, my words, my voice – where I hold my attention or awareness – may just be affecting the One Awareness of the planet. In effect, my story becomes part of “The Story” – lighting up some part of the One Mind, carrying a vibration of thought and light with it, spreading out across the Mind as the world turns in its sleep – ever turning towards the Light.’

The smile was evident on his face now, as John rolled these thoughts in his mind, continuing to look at them in his mind’s eye, watching the lines of light coursing with energy and vibration as they carried awareness to awareness, as ideas went from one bright city to another. ‘What message is being sent from the light of Las Vegas?’ This thought took the smile from John’s face, as he realized that in some way he represented the light of Las Vegas. It was sobering to think that his own thoughts could have an effect on thoughts everywhere – that what he looked at – what he gave attention and awareness to was somehow reflected in all awareness. ‘Too much responsibility, there.’ John tried to blank his mind, to find a peaceful place in it, a place of quiet and solitude. There was some small peace to be found in the stillness of his mind, but the idea of “solitude” wouldn’t take hold – immediately he saw the stillness in his mind radiating out across the planet. Then he noticed that the feeling of “smileness” had returned of its own accord, connected somehow with the idea of “stillness” of the mind. ‘I am at choice in what I look at, but not necessarily at choice in the effects of any thought I hold.’ The stillness in John’s mind was being disturbed by new thoughts, like pebbles being dropped into still water, the ripples radiating out from the source of thought. ‘My purpose in this life is to radiate peace and joy and love.’ This was a large pebble, but it didn’t splash into the surface of his mind so much as it seemed to come up from the depths of the pool, breaking to the surface of awareness like a bubble, then “popping” to release its energy, the energy of an idea riding out across the ripples of thought in John’s mind, in the One Mind.

Smiling, John turned to look once again at the keyboard of the laptop computer on the table. ‘Every letter is just a symbol of an idea in my mind, rising to the surface to be shaped, type-cast, imagined – an image of thought rising like feeling from some unknown source. ‘I am a conduit,’ John thought, ‘a channel of awareness, allowing the Source of What IS to flow through me, shaping it as it flows, making “sense” of it – energy becoming sensation – sensation becoming thought – thought becoming word, ‘and the Word was made flesh.’ “Smileness” was rising again. The idea of “responsibility” for his choice of thought brought not retraction this time but instead a sense of expansion, of desiring to join with the “All of it” – to acknowledge being part of the One, giving “smileness” by his very noticing of the idea – spreading the idea by his expression of it in his experience. ‘And it IS good!’

Peace of mind returned unannounced. John sat quietly in the dark, unaware of the time, no longer concerned with that concept, unaware even of the turning of the Earth. He was at peace in the world. His hand reached up and pulled the laptop screen down, closing the computer. He didn’t need it at this moment – he was communicating his message without using words. ‘I am the message,’ John smiled, ‘and I am the messenger. The message and the messenger are One.’

He rose from the table, then, and walked to his bed, knowing that he would dream, and that his dream would connect him to every dream being dreamed.

“Destiny is no matter of chance. It is a matter of choice. It is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be achieved.” ~William Jennings Bryan