(Part 6, Rabbit In The Grass) Making Magic Happen

In Part 5, I left off with a description of the second component of 'flowing': "Following The Line Of Least Resistance". In this installment I'm going to discuss the third component, which involves spending time alone in nature. Everyday, at dawn, before going to work, or attending to the various practical, and social items on my agenda, I took a walk in the marshland on the west end of town. While I was in the marshes I navigated by intuition - following the line of least resistance wherever it took me. Whatever the set of operations may be that enables the psyche to influence matter, whether it be in the case of synchronicity, those meaningful coincidences talked about by Jung, or the ability of the mind to work in concert with the universe to manifest the things we desire, contact with nature seems to pump up the process. Perhaps, a combination of the absence of stimuli associated with civilization, and moving in sync with the primal rhythms of nature, opens up whichever channel it is that links us to the rest of life on an energetic level. In any case, rather than continue to speculate on matters better left to saints and scientists, I'll simply share with you a most amazing experience I had on one of my morning treks.

One day when I was threading my way through the serpentine paths of the tidal creeks at low tide, I had a transcendental experience. Rounding the soft curves of the narrow channel I felt myself becoming one with sensuous pattern of its contours. I observed the marsh grass blowing in the wind, and noted that the blades were bending in the same direction as the scudding clouds above. Everything around me, including myself, seemed to be part of a larger, dynamic unity. Then, a remarkable thing happened. I looked down at the sandy bottom of the creek, and was shocked to see a stream of glistening energy - the ghostly residue of the water that had been there just a few hours earlier. The energy was rushing along in the same pattern as that of the other elements in the landscape. If that weren't enough, I looked at the back of my hand, which I had bent to mimic the curve of the channel, and saw the blood coursing through my veins. The blood was moving in the same direction as the grass, and the clouds, and the phantom water in the channel.

I'm going to end this episode with an example of how the art of 'flowing' worked its magic in my life. Once, when the summer season had come to an end, I found myself dangerously low on money and food. That night, on the eve of sleep, I told myself that when tomorrow came I was going to find a good job, and have a delicious meal. The next day, a fellow shopkeeper who had made a couple of big sales that afternoon, invited me to go out to dinner with him to celebrate his good fortune - his treat. The restaurant he chose was one I had always wanted to go to but couldn't afford. As I was eating, someone I met earlier that week spotted me through the restaurant window, and walked in to where I was seated. A mutual friend had told the man I was an excellent cook. It turns out he had just opened up a restaurant in town and needed a chef. He asked me if I wanted the job, and I accepted. It ended up being one of the most enjoyable work experiences of my life.

This story illustrates just one of numerous times when practicing the art of 'flowing' allowed me to tap into the power of the universe. Here is a recap of the steps involved in flowing: First, figure out what it is you desire. Next, tell yourself succinctly, and with authority, that you will obtain such and such. Follow this up by spending meaningful time alone in nature - navigating, intuitively, and allowing yourself to merge with rhythms of the earth. Then, all that is left to do is to continue to follow the line of least resistance as you go about your daily business. If you don't have easy access to nature, substitute meditation and/or yoga. If you really want a kick-ass experience, try all three: nature, meditation, and yoga, and combine them with the other steps. I have, and the results have been astounding.

'Flowing' is a process that can work for everyone. Give it a try. You just might be pleasantly surprised by the results. Until next time, good luck, and stay in the flow. Glen

(Part 1), Rabbit In The Grass: My Secret Life Revealed

Rabbit In The Grass is a new section I'm adding to my blog. It contains gleanings from the magical side of my life - a life, which, until now, I've kept secret from everyone, except my close friends. Rabbit is about true magic - not fantasy. Everything I will write about actually happened, although certain names, and other identifying details will be changed for the sake of privacy. It's important to note that there is an inextricable link between my creativity, and my spiritual life, especially my painting. That connection, however, will not be elaborated on here, but only on the sites where my art is being shown.

When I began this venture, I took a casual tally of all the mystical experiences I've had, and the knowledge I've gained about navigating in the spiritual realm, and I soon realized I had a lot of material. So much, in fact, that I wondered if my mundane life were ,merely, a footnote on my spiritual life, and not the other way around.

Rabbit In The Grass refers to one of my childhood past times. When I was around ten years old I used to spend whole afternoons exploring a huge field of tall grass across the street from my home. One day while I was threading my way through grass as tall as me, I spotted a rabbit. It was in a little, circular clearing - a grass-less oasis, created by a shallow outcropping of rock. Every day, thereafter, I set off in pursuit of that rabbit, which, to my child's mind, was a mysterious being from a world about which I had no knowledge. What I didn't know at the time, was that I was really chasing my magical self. The story I'm going to tell you, took place twelve years later, during the first year I lived on Cape Cod. (Again - This is not fiction. It really happened.)

During summers on the Cape you work your butt off. When winter comes, there's no work available, so you have plenty of time to drift, and dream. I developed the habit of getting up in time to catch the sunrise over the bay, and with only a little cloth sack filled with nuts and dried fruit, set off from there on a day long trek. My journey encompassed the entire town at its outermost points. The area through which I walked is called the Provincelands. It's comprised of vast stretches of sand dunes, dotted with sunken forests, that have small, fresh water ponds, where turtles clamber over floating logs. Along the way, the sea is visible from the tops of the taller dunes.

One warm sunny day in late September, after the tourists had gone home, I was out in the middle of the dunes, when I spotted some rabbit tracks. Falling back into my childhood habit, I decided I would find the rabbit to whom the tracks belonged. As I climbed up and down the sun bleached dunes, under a brilliant blue sky, I had the odd sensation that I was connecting with a part of me that had once lived in ancient Greece. [That connection to ancient Greece is something I'll discuss in future blogs.] Suffice it to say, that day on the dunes, I knew I was on a spirit quest.

I spent the whole day in the Provincelands and didn't find the rabbit. At dusk, I was back in our quaint, little downtown, walking into a health food store. I went there to talk with my friend Jeannie. When I entered the store she was standing on a step ladder with her back to me, reaching for a jar of dried herbs, set on a high shelf. Standing next to me was the customer on whom Jeannie was waiting. She was an exceptionally tall woman. For some reason unknown to me, I never looked up at her face. However, I knew she was a woman, and very tall, because, a.) There was a pocketbook on the counter in front of her. And, b.) When I turned toward her, my nose was even with the bottom of her shoulder.

While I stood there waiting for Jeannie, I saw the woman's hand retrieve something from her pocketbook, and place it on the counter in front of me. She said: "Would you like this?" I picked it up. It was the blank side of a postcard. When I turned it over, I saw a photograph of the famous painting of a rabbit by Albrecht Durer. It's the picture I now use above each installment of this series. I got my rabbit, after all.

I know I should have been awestruck, but I wasn't. I just remember feeling very complacent as I pocketted the picture, and walked out the door. This incident was one of several similar experiences I had that were related to rabbits. I expect I'll talk about them, also, in future installments. You might find it interesting to know what a Native American medicine woman at Lake George had to say about the story I just told you. Well, that's all for now. Until we meet again. Good luck, and stay in the flow. Glen