Knowing that Earth is no Eden, that those who venture here are subject to the dark as well as the light, the Great Yes sends healing. It comes in countless forms— in gentle smiles, in skillful hands, in words and music. It flows in the veins of trees and of plants. And today it dances the dance of the legendary yarrow, its white blossoms filling the fields, lining the roadsides. The sight of it alone holds the magic to heal your spirit. Leaf, blossom, stem, all can heal, comforting, soothing ailments and wounds, chasing the no away. May you be whole. May you be blessed. May you know that you are loved.
I fall asleep at night with flowers dancing through my head. Tonight the scene is bordered with oceans of blue petals tumbling around centers of gold, wave after wave of them washing up against the wild roses, surrounding the stand of water iris, lapping the feet of the holly and the fern. Their song is a lullaby of tiny bells chiming ever so softly: “Remember. Remember.” I sleep well, smiling.
Stick your neck out. Even if you think that what you have to show ain’t pretty, climb out of the dark of the swamp. Bathe in the warmth, in the light, in the sun. Breathe the fresh air through your nose. Let it dance through your toes. It’s sun time, fellah. Let it all hang out.
On this spring day, as the earth sings its joy, let there be gladness in your heart. Let there be thanksgiving for all that lives, for breath and fragrant breezes, for blossoming peonies and deep blue skies, and for the eyes that see them. Praise the trilling birdsong and the peeping of wee frogs, and let there be thanksgiving for the ears that so merrily hear them. For all the friends who touch your heart, and for the heart that loves them, let there be joyous thanks. For the priceless gift of being, for the journey and all it brings, on this spring day, when the earth sings its joy, let there be gladness in your heart; let there be thanksgiving.
What if you were to breathe this serenity into your heart? What if, before you spoke, before you formed a judgment or opinion, its green calm flooded your mind? What if its harmony revealed the way to peace? What if you spent this day enveloped in its sacred song, letting go. letting go?
Back in the middle of the last century, writings about the amazing powers of the subconscious mind were all the rage. It was, as I understood it, this vast, shapeless, inner world that held more or less clear impressions of everything you ever experienced or learned. Not only that, but it somehow filed everything in organized, wholly cross-referenced files. And that gave it the power to find–or lead you to find–the answers to any questions or puzzles you presented to it. That’s what made it amazing.
But the part of the subconscious that holds all your personal experiences was only one layer of it. There was another, deeper layer below it that held the experiences of everybody everywhere who ever lived, back through eons of time. At their edges, the personal subconscious and the collective subconscious intermingled, and you could, with proper discipline, guidance and effort, travel into the depths of the collective to access even more data. Some people were able to dive even deeper than the collective. But that’s another story, for another time.
What got me to thinking about this was a simple question a friend asked me this morning. “Have you started on your Sunday Letter yet?” I told him I hadn’t, but that I could tell that the Boys in the Back Room were kicking around an idea. I depend on them. And they never disappoint, although I sometimes have to knock pretty loudly on their door before they slip their notions to me.
The Boys in the Back Room is a compartment I built in my personal subconscious. Up until I realized I could do that, I thought of the subconscious mind as a vast, maybe bottomless, ever-swirling bowl of soup. “The Cosmic Soup,” I called it. When you wanted to know something, you’d bait a line with your question, drop it into the soup and wait until something tugged on your line. That process was called “Fishing in the Cosmic Soup.”
Then one day I was walking by local trout stream and it dawned on me that different bodies of water held different kinds of fish. Maybe the Cosmic Soup was the same way. So I swam around in it for a while and found this sun-dappled pool that was bubbling with ideas. It was surrounded by some kind of transparent energy field, and I knocked on its outer edges and a laughing young fellow appeared, opening a kind of door. Behind him was a big, bright room filled with school desks and a riotous, laughing crew of boys and girls, maybe in their late teens, early 20’s, turning somersaults and throwing balls of crumpled paper at each other.
The guy at the door told me they were my Creatives. They fabricated my ideas and dreams. I could call them, he said, the Boys in the Back Room—“boys,” in this case, being a word like “guys” that referred in a casual, friendly kind of way to both genders. They were right next door to the Research Clan, he said, who aided them immensely in their creations. (The Research Clan, by the way, is the group that helps you figure out where you left your car keys, among other things. They travel freely through the huge data bases of the entire subconscious in search of answers and report to many other inner pools besides that of the Boys in the Back Room. But that, too, is another story.)
It was this whole experience that showed me why Positive Affirmative Questions work. And that’s really what the Boys suggested that I write about today. Here it is in a nutshell, since I’ve rambled for quite a while already: Instead of using affirmations to reprogram a behavior or install a different one, you turn the affirmation into a question. For instance, instead of saying, “I am eating healthy, nutritious foods now,” you ask yourself, “Why am I so drawn to eating healthy, nutritious foods now?” Then the Researches go to collect data and collaborate with the Boys in the Back Room who fabricate ways for you to discover that you are, amazingly, drawn to nutritious foods.
While they’re searching, the negative part of you that knows you’re still stuffing Oreos in there might say something nasty to you, like “You’re not eating good stuff, fool.” Just tell it that it’s not up to speed on things and trust that the Boys will be back any second now with reams of ways to nudge you into hankering for a crisp, juicy apple or a maybe a piece of salmon, fresh off the grill.
Instead of saying “I no longer spend money impulsively,” you ask yourself, “Why am I managing my money so wisely now?” Then see what happens the next time you’re out shopping or leafing through an inviting catalog that came in the mail.
That’s the gist of it. “Why am I feeling so motivated today?” Why am I getting so many good ideas about this thing I want to do?” “Why am I feeling so peaceful today?” Play with it.
There’s no plush carpet here, no beige walls or polished surfaces. No sir. What you have before you is a virtual riot of gladness, an unrestrained jubilee, sprung to life all of its own accord. Kinda wild you say? Exactly. No committees, no policies, no locks, or clocks or alarms, no written plan, no codes, no outlined parking spaces. It’s nothing but rampant joy set loose and bursting with freedom. Sorta makes you want to let out a holler, kick up your heels, don’t it?
Here, in the world where time flows, not everything happens at once. The symphony has its movements, its measures. It has its rhythms and moods. Each thing unfolds according to its nature, coming when it is meant to come, leaving when it is meant to go. Trust that. It may not always seem so, given the limitations of our view. But after sufficient seasons have passed, your heart begins to know that time has a way of doing things in the right order.
Everything is possible. The rain-dreams of trees, for example, can summon rain on a summer day. The wishes of butterflies can open flowers. Send a loving thought anywhere; it will find its way. Dream of peace, and you will feel it unfold, spacious and free, in your own heart. Ask anything of the dawn. Then follow where it leads you, and believe.
June blows in, all vivid and warm, and flying the colors of summer. In her sky, hawks soar in great circles beneath huge whipped cream clouds. Iridescent damsel flies and butterflies flit through the irises and peonies. Leaves dance. The grass sings. Everything’s in motion. Children bare their feet and run across the lawns, whooping the sounds of freedom. June laughs at the boisterous welcome, sends a quick, loud thunderstorm as if in response. Then she smiles, unfolds her green wings and settles in, her gossamer gown swirling around her, hiding gifts in every fold.
