Archive for October 10th, 2010

There was an Abraham workshop held in Colorado a few weeks ago.  For those of you who don’t already know, Abraham is channeled by Esther Hicks and Jerry Hicks is her husband and side kick.  They frequently drive to workshops all over the country in what they affectionately have dubbed their “monster bus”.  The following was noted by a Denver workshop participant, Kathy G. :

Jerry and Esther came over the mountains on Hwy 70.  They stopped at every viewpoint.  Esther had tears from the incredible beauty and said, [powerfully, from her soul, brought us to tears in the audience], “Thank you for my life.”  Reading this, for a moment, I was right there knowing what it’s like to feel that from the depth of my being.

Out here in the Puget Sound area, they sometimes use the phrase “the mountain is out”.  The mountain they refer to is Mount Rainier.  Due to clouds surrounding her, she’s not always out.  Even when she is “out”, I’m not always in a position to see her, hence it’s never a predictable moment when I do see her.  I might round a bend and suddenly there she is, this huge volcanic snow covered mountain eclipsing everything surrounding it.  It’s take-your-breath-away gorgeous and something I’ve never grown to take for granted.  I’ve often joked that there aren’t more people losing control of their vehicles as we gape in awe or throw our hands up and off the steering wheel, in pure astonishment.

These are the extraordinary moments where it’s easy to feel: thank you for my life.  I am also a connoisseur of the ordinary, the so-called unexceptional, and the common place.  The window to my right is open as I write here today.  I can hear the quiet song of birds, the pitter patter of rain drops falling on crisp, dried leaves.  Next to me, I feel the warmth of my dog Issie, pressing her little 20 pound body as close to me as she can.  I watch the steady rise and fall of her abdomen.  She breathes peacefully, I breathe, too.  I can breathe a conscious breath right now.  I send that breath to the very grounded center of my being.

I’m typing on a computer keyboard and soon will press a button, “magically” I will communicate with people all over the world.  I live in a generation that’s invented a completely new way of being in relationship with each other.

I inhabit this day.  I take a moment to really reflect on those words: I. Inhabit. This. Day.  And now, how I inhabit it, is entirely up to me.  I feel the verb-ness and the is-ness of what it means to inhabit this day, this life, this body, this perspective.  What a gift, what freedom that is!  I can spend my moments getting to know more deeply every nuance of anything I choose today.

As I approach the completion of this writing, clouds part momentarily as the sun peeks out.  We are having, as they say in the Pacific Northwest, a sun break.  The whole of nature favors me with a radiant, shining wink.  Yes.  Yes, indeed.  Thank you for my life!

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