Beautiful things to come
Ever wondered what your own daily experience of life might be like, in the new world made of love?
Hey there. In these newsletters, you and I usually look at how best to pick our way through the strange transition from the world made of fear (which is rapidly dissolving) to the world made of love (which is rapidly replacing it).
But hey. The weather’s hot and the days are long, at least in this hemisphere. So I thought: This time, it might be nice to focus instead, on what comes after the transition. Placing our attention on what the world made of love might actually mean, for you and me. At ground level, I mean. Daily life level.
Because we can already sort of imagine what the big, high-concept stuff will be, right? We will know ourselves in all our true glory; we’ll be one with all that is.
Yeah, okay. Sure. But what will that actually be LIKE?
Preview of coming attractions
I had a dream a few weeks ago that gives some pretty interesting clues as to what it might actually be like, to inhabit this beautiful new world.
It wasn’t a prophetic dream, or anything like that. Nothing grand. No angel choirs. Much more ordinary than extraordinary, in fact.
Nevertheless despite its simplicity, this dream came in full Sensurround; I felt it throughout my mind, body and spirit. And it was unforgettable…
In the dream, I was just walking.
I’d been visiting with my parents (both deceased in real life) when the time came for me to go somewhere that would’ve taken a few hours by car. On the spur of the moment, I decided to walk there instead, estimating that it would take me around two and a half days.
A bit of background info here:
Fallen arches—and a refusal to wear the deeply uncool corrective saddle oxfords prescribed for the condition—have meant foot pain ever since childhood. Even at peak fitness in my twenties, I couldn’t hike for more than five miles or so, tops, without feeling the podiatric consequences.
Plus, peak fitness is a number of decades behind me now. I can still do plenty of strenuous things, but I need breaks. Lots of breaks.
In short, I would not ever, for any reason, randomly decide to embark on a two and a half day journey by foot, simply because it sounded like fun.
But in the dream, I was strong and completely confident of my stamina. And foot pain wasn’t even a thing.
And yes, it sounded like tremendous fun. Light, and free, and easy. So incredibly liberating, this taking for granted of my fully fit physicality.
But there’s also much more to this.
Not only did the possibility of physical limitation not cross my mind at all…NO fears, reservations or anxieties about the adventure itself, arose either.
I did not worry for my safety as a woman traveling alone. I did not worry about getting lost. I did not worry about the possibility of inclement weather. I did not worry, full stop.
In fact, fear of any type, simply didn’t exist.
Fear is so deeply woven into our minds and the societies we live in; even if you consider yourself a pretty fearless person, every breath you take is still laced with it.
So, to suddenly experience myself entirely beyond its influence was both eye opening, and extremely beautiful. I felt light as a feather, physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually.
It was incredible. Pure joy.
I was not in bliss, just to be clear. Bliss is a bit of a drug; a brain-chemical high that guarantees you’ll have to come down at some point. This definitely wasn’t that.
It also wasn’t a joyous mood. THIS kind of joy felt more like an underlying identity. Part of who I am. And far from being a temporary or changeable state, it felt strong, natural and constant, untouched by any of life’s ups and downs.
Anyway. I planned nothing for my journey, setting out spontaneously. I didn’t even grab a jacket. No handbag, no money. No nothing.
After several hours of wonderful walking, I reached in my pocket, and surprisingly, there was a phone in there. A very small dumbphone.
More background:
I hate phones. I have always hated phones, whether the bakelite kind of my childhood with curly cord attached; the swanky office phones I graduated to later on (can I put you on hold? There’s a client on the other line); or the parade of iPhones I reluctantly carried before technology started to seriously not be fun anymore.
I despised them all. Maybe I knew without knowing, even back then, of the personal entrapment devices they would someday become. Or maybe it’s just a strange random hatred for no reason. In any case, my current smartphone spends most of its lonely life turned off and nestled inside a metal box where it can’t send or receive anything.
So it’s pretty interesting that the only thing I carried with me in the dream (albeit unintentionally) was a phone.
I used it to call my (dead) parents. Because I realized suddenly, with dismay, that I left without saying goodbye.
This was the only moment of the dream that held anything other than pure, clear joy. I felt some regret, a bit of shame that I might’ve caused them needless worry. And yet the underlying joy was unmistakably still there: I strongly knew I was doing something I was meant to be doing. I was on the right road.
My mom answered. As soon as she said hello, I could feel that their world, their house, their life was no longer mine—it all felt so musty and heavy.
It wasn’t me, anymore. I was walking a different path now.
She was worried for me, chiding me for not planning ahead. I understood where she was coming from, but I knew better. I knew my behavior was neither foolish nor irresponsible—although there would be no convincing my parents of that.
We said our goodbyes.
So, let’s pause here for a minute to talk about planning, versus foolish irresponsibility.
Although the dream did not address this, I’m pretty sure that, had it been raining outside at the time, I would’ve grabbed a jacket before leaving. Because that would be prudent. That would be spontaneous right action, based on what was occurring in the moment.
But to plan ahead and worry about the possibility of rain in the future, so I’d better be prepared just in case…that’s the sort of behavior that was completely absent. (And in regular daily life, incidentally, I’m pretty classically Capricornian. Meaning, I’m well versed in planning for the just in cases.)
But this absence of forward planning is NOT foolishness, is my point. Anything but. It’s a measured, discerning response to life as it’s actually arising, in the present moment. Instead of a hedge against a fictitious future that hasn’t arrived yet.
Anyway. Phone call completed, I walked on in open-hearted joy, until eventually I saw a roadside log cabin restaurant. Next thing I knew, I was inside this cozy eatery, seated at a long bench and trestle table with several strangers, all of us waiting comfortably together for our meal.
How, you may ask, was I going to eat in a restaurant when I had no money?
Incredible as it may seem, lack of money just wasn’t an issue.
Because money didn’t matter. Money truly, simply didn’t matter. It probably still existed as a basic means of exchange—but it held none of the hypnotic power and importance it currently enjoys in the world made of fear.
Furthermore, my arrival in an eatery without means to pay for my meal said nothing whatsoever about me as a person. No one judged me or made assumptions about my character or my inherent value as a human being. No one (including me) thought anything of it, actually.
Because everyone understood the true power of gift. And this is such an important point, let’s give it its own boldface title heading:
The true power of gift
When giving is spontaneous and utterly natural in the moment, the giver’s heart blossoms open and their mind, body and energy field are instantly flooded with wellbeing. The giver also immediately enters the flow of true universal abundance (which is always operating in truth), in which the action of giving is only the first half of a full natural cycle: Receiving is the other half.
Giving and receiving, when aligned with this natural divine flow, are essentially all the same one thing. Thus, giving is a process that is designed to benefit the giver and receiver equally.
It’s a principle that can be experienced for oneself, even here in the fear-based world. But it usually takes conscious effort, and no small amount of trust—because it’s never clear where, or when, or from whom, we’ll receive. And of course, the flow of abundance stops abruptly the moment we revert to ‘normal’ fears and limiting behaviors.
But in this cozy restaurant, none of that fear-based interference was operating. Everyone at the table was equally open-hearted. Everyone dwelt in the same state of inner freedom as I was experiencing.
And because of this, there was a clear knowing shared by all those present, that a meal offered with joy to a hungry stranger was a rich delight in and of itself.
Because, y’know, oneness.
They also knew it would bring the same sort of abundant generosity flowing back to each of them, in times when they are the hungry stranger.
And really, what more is needed than that?
So.
In all that I’ve described here, can you put yourself in my [uncool saddle oxfords]? Can you imagine what your own life might be like, when your mind and spirit are clear, your heart is open and your body is effortlessly strong?
When money means little, and lack of it is no barrier to anything?
What incredible possibilities might then open up for you: The daily miracles, both big and small. The new friendships, the new adventures. The new collaborations, and the deep satisfactions they might hold.
Yes, you’ll need to say goodbye to some things along the way. No doubt about that.
But your road, although less crowded with musty memories from the past, will be filled with radiant joy.