It’s October 7. I am still waiting. Things are supposed to be happening. NOW.
The elastic property of time renders this lack of events extraordinarily frustrating for me. We’re only a few days into the October that is supposed to be history-making, but I feel as if a month, not a week, has gone by and it seems nothing monumental has occurred.
I do realize that events will no doubt happen as and when they are meant to. Pretty sure there’s some spiritual law or other about that.
The enforced waiting is irrelevant to the lofty persona that earnestly believes it is a higher self and seeks to dwell in states like serenity and equanimity. That higher self is supposed to know better than to allow impatience or any of those other low-vibration states.
When my immediate surroundings affect me negatively, though, equanimity and serenity get buried under the rubble of worry and despair. The headline in the local paper notes that Santa Barbara County has extended its mask mandate “at least through the first week of November.”
In my mind I substitute “at least through Christmas,” because if nothing momentous occurs in the wider world, I expect the mandates to expand like those grow-your-own-crystals experiments, layering themselves atop each other till they fill all available space.
It seems every day some new class of humans is being threatened with loss of livelihood, or worse, if they don’t submit to receiving the vaccine, never mind the growing number of deaths and adverse events.
Isn’t anything ever, really, going to change?
I’m not a very happy camper at the moment. Time is not my friend. Every day that I get older and creakier surely adds one more day to the time it will take to remove the achiness and return me to better functioning.
What I really want is radiant well-being, but I feel I must settle for the more mundane better functioning.
With world-changing events not happening on a timeline that I can discern, the hope that I can stop struggling to achieve optimal functionality, and benefit from those sequestered technologies like med beds that we’ve heard so much about, fades away.
I’m left with dealing in the here and now with my physical self exactly as it is, and on a wider scale, the world of chaos exactly as it is.
How can I turn what feels like time, the enemy, into a friend or an ally? Or at least something neutral that I don’t feel like I have to pummel into submission so I can be more comfortable and serene, less afraid and worried.
Of course it’s an inside job, how could it be otherwise? But the externals of life, including this thing called time, often feel like tricksters and beguilers, showing one thing but stealthily exchanging it for another in some kind of cosmic bait and switch.
How can I transform this agonizing, endless waiting into being peacefully in the present?
I have spent many years in the company of people with severe short-term memory loss.
This exact second in time is really all there is for these individuals. While the ability to remember may still be present, the events of a day or a week ago are often obliterated. It’s an ambiguous kaleidoscope, a hopscotch of time, yesterday and fifty years ago adjacent and the lines between them blurred.
That state of ambiguity looks pretty good to me from where I now stand. Who cares if something hasn’t happened yet? There’s no expectation of a future or reliable memory of a past.
Since I don’t desire the cognitive decline that usually accompanies this ability to remove oneself from the dictates of time, it seems I will have to manufacture peacefulness with temporality all on my own.
In the enormous pantheon of higher vibrational beings, surely there is a Transformer of Time I can call upon.
And since it seems that higher vibrational beings are in fact aspects of self that we have access to—because we are them—surcease from my struggle with time can be as imminent as my very next thought.
I can be my own transformer of time and bringer of peace. With a little help from my Higher Friends.