Hello, sweeties. It’s the eve of the new year, and I have a couple things to share with you today. The first is an imagination exercise that has been immeasurably helpful to me over the past however-longs. It’s an appropriate accompaniment to New Year’s, actually, as it’s all about putting old things away.
It came to me while I was meditating one day. I was letting my mind rest, gently nudging away pesky thoughts, when I suddenly envisioned myself seated on the floor before a fireplace in a warm, amber-lit, bookshelf-lined study, holding a slim volume in my hands. I realized that the book I was holding contained the particular story that had been trying to intrude on my thoughts at that moment, and that all I had to do to let the story go was to close the book and place it on the shelf in its proper place. I envisioned myself doing that, and as soon as I did, the story lost its power over me.
A warm, dark, firelit study lined with shelves is one of the visions that comforts me most, and because I love books, it makes the most sense to me to see my letting-go process in this way. But maybe you love movies, in which case you’d see your stories in DVDs or film reels lined in a row. Maybe you prefer to see your stories in paintings hanging on a gallery wall, or if you’re a collector of kitsch, in a series of display plates or salt and pepper shakers. It doesn’t matter! The idea is to acknowledge the beauty and importance our stories have been to us over our lives, but to know when it’s time to put them down and live the immediate story happening to us at the moment.
I know that many of you feel differently from me when it comes to reincarnation, but oh, I feel such comfort when I’m in my imaginary study and can see the vast shelves filled with stories, my stories, from over the centuries. This short life as Kelly is a jewel, but it’s only one in the midst of a treasure chest that never stops expanding. I’m not yet ready to give up the ghost for the next adventure, because I feel I have a few more things to learn in this body, but lately I’ve been taking a gander back at the events of my life and seeing them as practice for the next. I’ve done a lot of wonderful things pretty well, but really, have never mastered any of them. I’m looking forward to mastery some day. I’ve been recognizing the people in my life as fellow travelers with whom I’ve contracted, in order for us to help each other grow, before each incarnation. This has deepened my respect and appreciation for my friends and family, for my teachers and spiritual mentors, and even for those I don’t like but who are in my life anyway. Each one has a purpose for my benefit, and I have a purpose for their benefit.
Just now I’m remembering something kind of funny. On Christmas day, when we were over at Peri’s and I was watching Van and Jesse play Rock Band – Van on the guitar and Jesse on the drums – I said, “Hey, let’s meet up after this life and decide to be a family again, only next time we’ll do it right and be a family band, instead of a bunch of individual musicians. We’ll make a mint.” Van said, “Maybe that’s what we were supposed to do THIS time.” His comment took me by surprise, and we all laughed a little ruefully, but I was warmed by the idea that we have as many chances as it takes to get things ‘right.’ So look for us again around, say, 2060. I’ll be lead guitar. I’ve tried three times to learn that thing and can’t seem to make it very far past the callus point, but I’m telling you, in my heart I’m a guitarist.
Which reminds me of something else! During the only past-life regression I’ve done for myself, which was very short but very cool, one of the people I saw I’d been was a minstrel, you know, a bard. I was a young man and hoo-boy, did I love the ladies, and I wasn’t really too much into God, but when I played my guitar and sang, I went to a different place, a very spiritual place.
Life is so amazing. So amazing. I’m filled with gratitude toward God, the Source of everything, of provision and comfort and protection and guidance, all given generously to us if we only ask. I’m grateful that now, at this time in my life, I’m reopening my spiritual eyes and ears, able to glean help from invaluable resources I’d ignored before. I’m on my knees with gratitude for my family, that knot of souls who have been with me for longer than I know, and for this quiet, peaceful time in which I can rest and study and grow without external stresses hammering at me. I don’t know how long it’ll last, but it’s a soft nest for now, and I don’t take it for granted.
And I’m grateful for all of you, for those with whom I’ve shared meals and laughter, and for others I’ve never met but have joined hearts with in moments of authentic connection. I think of all of you at various times; you’ve made a difference, have added to my experience here in ways both tangible and invisible, and I hope I’ve done the same for you. (Twila, I’ve thought of you so often during the past weeks, as you’ve struggled, I’m sure, to come to grips with the loss of beautiful little Lennon.) We’re all connected, we’re all chips off the old Block, we rise and fall and rise again without end. And I’m happy, to the core of my being, to know you. May you all have a wonderful, truly transporting, next year. The Mayans predicted some pretty great stuff for us, after all. :) Love, more love, and infinite love!