To the best of my knowledge, all of us have guides. They may be relatives on the Fourth Dimension, or spirit guides, or galactic or terrestrial ascended masters, or angels and archangels. But all of us have them.
Therefore we can all honestly say that we are guided, led, inspired, fed wisdom.
Recently a guide, in a reading with Linda Dillon, said that he was talking to me often these days and I seemed to hear him more. I said I had no awareness of it and he replied that nevertheless it was so. What I saw yesterday gives me a little more insight into how this process works.
Yesterday I was strongly guided to think of peace as “profound relaxation.”
Ordinarily I’d simply sit down at the computer and write about a subject that comes to mind and think to myself that everything I’m saying is somehow my idea. But because of what occurred yesterday, I became aware of being guided by knowing a thought I had was not mine (at least not per se. More on that later.)
I initially balked at the suggestion that peace could be understood as profound relaxation. I struggled with it. The reason I did was that our society doesn’t seem to value peace as profound relaxation.
Or perhaps it’s more accurate to say our society doesn’t seem to value relaxation very much at all. If anything it seems to aspire to getting busier and busier.
We willingly let go of white space by talking on our cellphones when we walk or listening to music on our iPods when we ride a bus. We use computers and software that annihilate downtime. And our employers willingly seem to oblige us by requiring more and more work from us with fewer and fewer breaks.
And so for me to assert that peace is “profound relaxation” seemed like condemning myself to a hard sell. I found myself reacting to the idea with: “Excuse me?” (1)
But then the guidance persisted. No, no, it said; assert as an hypothesis that at least one aspect of peace, that can be tested out, is its aspect as “profound relaxation.”
Boy, am I ever going to get myself in trouble with this one, I thought. But the notion wouldn’t go away.
My resistance gradually melted and I looked at this thing. Peace can be thought of and encountered as “profound relaxation.” Hmmmm….
So I asserted as an hypothesis, just for the sake of testing this thing out, that peace could be encountered and understood as “profound relaxation.” I went along with the guidance provisionally and I began testing it out.
I was at that moment acting like a spiritual scientist, explorer or interpreter, looking and reporting what I found.
I allowed myself to profoundly relax. And what did I find? I thought of relaxing on a warm beach at Kovalam, India. I saw myself lying down in the waves, watching a little sand creature pop its antenna above the sand when the water retreated, and then I saw myself getting up and going for kalimari and a coffee milkshake (died and went to heaven) at the restaurant at the top of the beach, just a few meters away, and then going lazily back again into the surf. Profoundly relaxing.
Or I saw myself after a ten-day meditation course. Or in a cabin on a lake in the woods.
I’ve known profound relaxation and I felt it again and this time I did see its usefulness in allowing me to connect with a notion of peace.
And, yes, I do see now how it certainly fits my own pre-existing ideas. I realized: Hey, I’ve have had this idea before of peace being the same as profound relaxation. I just forgot I once had it in mind.
So this test allowed me to retrieve a way of seeing peace that I had had myself. Perhaps that’s one of the purposes of guidance.
And then I realized in a flash how all of this was operating.
An aspect of peace that I myself had seen and understood in some distant past and then forgot about was just fed back to me as an assertion: peace is profound relaxation. My guidance brought it to my attention again, inducing me to test it out and arrive anew at the same conclusion I had back then.
The reminder, which I at first resisted, irritated me enough to have me break through the years of forgetting and bring to the forefront of my attention a useful idea which I never would have recovered without being led to do so.
Most guidance I go with and so it remains invisible. But this instance, which I resisted, came to the forefront of my attention. That’s one aspect of it.
But the other aspect of it is this supremely clever matter of putting the guidance in the form of thoughts I’d already had. Guidance fools me on so many occasions to think that I arrived at this thought. But in this particular instance, even though it drew on my own stock of thoughts, I had still been guided to it. The thought, even if my own, was still implanted by my guides.
A day later, I’m still amazed at how this process seems to work. It’s moved me now to watch my thoughts more carefully and discern more about the process by which we’re guided or inspired to new/old thoughts, led by “outside,” invisible sources.
(1) The reason I became aware of it as guidance was because of this sense that it was not something I myself would say.