As anyone who has had an “awakening experience” can tell you, the cosmic 2 x 4 is tailor-made to get your attention. It comes in all shapes and sizes. In fact, I believe that where you put your attention is where the Universe will plop the thing in your lap. I also believe it comes as a cosmic 2 x 4 because we missed the hints, nudges and even potholes along the way. Rarely do we miss the big one.
Such was the case for Eben Alexander, M.D., a successful neurosurgeon who suffered a week long coma and near death experience that rocked his world. His left-brained scientific background studying the brain did not prepare him for other worldly connections that forced him to think about the nature of consciousness in a very different way. His journey to understand the ramifications of his experience unfolds in his latest book, Living in a Mindful Universe. Thankfully, during his explorations he discovered that one does not have to have a near death experience to tap into ones higher consciousness. Enter Karen Newell, co-founder of Sacred Acoustics. Her innovative work in brainwave entrainment audio meditations not only mirrors Alexander’s experience on the other side but also demonstrates key practices of consciousness exploration: heart awareness, intention, and more.
If you have become aware of the hints, nudges, and potholes dancing around in your life, you will not want to miss the two-day event with Alexander and Newell: Living in a Mindful Universe/Into the Heart of Consciousness. I hope you will join us.
Even if you are not able to join us, be mindful of those hints in your life that call to you to “Wake up.”
What if amid the turmoil we see going on in our world we could create a beautiful life? What if despite the negative reports of economic downturn we could live in a prosperous world? What if we could live in a peaceful place when all around us there is chaos? In other words, what does it truly mean to be spiritually prosperous?
Those are some of the what ifs we will explore in the Spiritual Prosperity Consciousness workshop. Sign up here.
Many people search for purpose in their life. Others plow through life as if driven by the challenge to “grab the brass ring,” and then there are those folks who have accomplished much – success, fortune, recognition, and power – but feel as if something is missing. To make matters worse, they do not know what’s missing; just that there is a void in their lives that success and money cannot fill.
I call this “divine discontent.” Divine because I believe it is one’s Soul tugging at one’s conscious awareness as if to say, “Is that all there is? Surely, there’s more to life, but what?”
I believe it is the first call to awaken to one’s true self. In other words, to listen to the still small voice within, the Soul’s voice, because we are more than mere mortals, mere physical beings. However, just as physical beings must crawl before they walk, I believe one must attain a certain level of evolution before awareness of one’s Soul occurs. Just as crawling/walking/running is a process, so too is awakening to Self/Soul. Just as many other experiences are possible when we learn to walk, so too when we accept that we are more than physical beings. And then, Divine Discontent leads us to our true purpose, the reason why we chose this incarnation.
For me, the path from Divine Discontent to understanding my life’s purpose also means understanding my life’s purpose for many lives, to witness lesson learned in one life or not learned in another. I can no longer look at my current life from a one life perspective because I see the connections that show me clearly how impossible it would be to fulfill one’s life purpose in one incarnation. By understanding that there is a bigger picture, even if I do not yet see it completely, I now feel the excitement of anticipation about where Divine Discontent will lead me.
I now know to push through the divine discontent like pushing through a door to a room I never saw before. I know that something awaits me on the other side of that door. I shall embrace it with all my heart and soul as a child cherishes a new toy, or a scientist stands in awe of a new discovery, or an artist beholds his creation and wonders “Did I do that?”
I now know that my life can be magical as I accept my purpose as a Soul who chose this body, this incarnation and I am divinely content.
Thanks to Central VA IONS Community for inviting me to share my stories and some fun meditation exercises today. What a fantastic group! If you are not familiar with the Institute of Noetic Science, you should check it out: IONS
I am reluctant no more!
In celebration, I am offering a FREE e-book of Conversations with a Hungry Ghost:Memoir of a Reluctant Medium now through Monday. Click on the photo to go directly to Amazon and then, join the conversation.
There is a Chinese proverb about a red thread of fate that connects us. I felt that red thread pull me to my ancestral villages in China, and through the veil that separates most folks from the spirit world. It played such a huge part in my life even before I knew anything about anything. So, naturally, it graces the cover of my book that I just released on Amazon. I hope you’ll check it out.
Until my father died, I did not know where he was born. No matter how many times I had asked him when he was alive, he evaded my question. Consequently, the only think I knew about Dad’s life in China was that he was afraid of water because his father threw him into the river.
My Caucasian mother ran away from Dad when I was nine and took me, my younger brother and sister with her. We were raised in the South and the only Chinese words I remember from my childhood were多謝 duōxiè “Many thanks,” and some words that sounded like “ki doy” and “ki nui” that I thought meant “bad boy” and “bad girl.” I have not found the correct transliteration in any Chinese/English dictionary.
Even though my exposure to the Chinese culture was limited, I was drawn to all things Chinese. I look less Asian than my brother or sister, but I feel Chinese. I feel drawn to China by an inexplicable force.
After I reunited with Dad in 1969, he did not share his story – our roots. Everything changed in 1990 when Dad died, and his ghost stood at his tombstone and wondered “What happens next?” I was aware of him at his funeral but after years of blocking the ghosts I saw as a child, I could not see or hear him clearly until I learned how to meditate and studied metaphysics.
Long story short, through my conversations with my father’s ghost, I began to piece together a crazy quilt about him, about his life in China and his life in the United States. I began to understand why he was so secretive. And I discovered the name and location of his village along the Pearl River. There’s just one hitch. It took twenty-six years to draw his story out. He would be one hundred six if he were still alive. I will be lucky to find anyone in the village who remembers the 华侨 wah que, the young man who went overseas. It doesn’t matter because now Dad knows that I was sincere about wanting to know our history and that I will go back to the village to honor my ancestors, and then I will write his story, our story.
The take-away is this: if at all possible, do not wait too long to learn your family’s story. Gently pry open those shells to find the pearls of your family’s story. Sometimes the shell will be empty, but when you find a pearl, it will be precious. Like the grain of sand inside the oyster, some aspects of our lives are irritating and yet can develop into something quite beautiful.
Being a rooter is akin to an archaeologist, searching for signs about one’s history by studying the remains, looking for clues wherever they can be found. Instead of bones and artifacts excavated out of the ground, I am digging through archival files of my ancestors who traveled between China and the U.S. On one hand, the way they were treated seems inhuman. However, on the other hand, the pages of interrogations and witness’ statements paint a picture for me of what my ancestors experienced as sojourners to the Gold Mountain (the Chinese name for the U.S.)
Pouring over the files from the National Archives feels like Louis Leaky picking through bone fragments. One piece, although incomplete, sheds light on the history of mankind, or at least several generations of my ancestors. For instance, there is a phrase indicating a business established in San Francisco in 1865, the year the Civil War ended on the other side of the country.
Then, there is the witness statement from G.T. Marsh, which when you do the math meant that he knew my great-grandfather when they were both in their twenties. Further digging showed the extent both men were affected by the 1906 earthquake. Marsh & Co., housed in the Palace Hotel on Market Street, was demolished. Fung Sang Lung & Co., located on Bush Street, near Van Ness and Post, fared somewhat better than the stores in Chinatown. By 1909, the store’s name was changed to Wah Sang Lung & Co. and relocated to the corner of Dupont (now, Grant Avenue) and Sacramento Streets.
Photos of the shop on Dupont back-in-the-day show horse drawn carriages and pig-tailed men clad in pajama-looking clothes going about their business. My great-grandfather and grandfather’s photos show their shaved foreheads and hair pulled back into queues in obeisance for the Qing emperors of their times. Letter clues (TC for Tung Chee/Tongzhi, KS for Kwong Sui/Guangxu, ST for Sun Tung/Xuantong), showed me three different emperors during generations from my great-grandfather to my father, who was born during the reign of the last emperor of China.
For the Chinese, dress codes were mandatory, whether they were in a foreign country or not, and disobedience to the two-hundred-year-old rule of Manchu hairstyle and chángshān; literally: “long shirt,” could result in execution. The high-collared silk chángshāns may have looked like pajamas to San Francisco’s Caucasians, but to the Chinese they indicated merchant class sojourners “going out” to create a better life for his families back home.
When I gleaned a list of my great-grandfather’s twelve trips between the U.S. and China from the files, I discovered that he had a cabin in 1906. It was probably the last voyage of the first SS Doric, a White Star Line steel ship, which was known for carrying a large cargo of opium as well as tea. He traveled as a Merchant, which made him exempt from discrimination by the Exclusion Act of 1882. He probably traveled in second class accommodations, which may not be as luxurious as first class, but was a far cry from the steerage conditions of so many immigrant travelers. My ancestors did not consider themselves immigrants but rather sojourners.
In spite of their strong ties to the homeland, Chinese immigrants did not establish a miniature replica of traditional Chinese society in America. They lived in an abnormal society full of young males, wandering Sojourners, whose dream was to put in a few years of hard labor and to return home wealthy and respected “Gold Mountain Guests.” This “sojourner’s mentality” had deep roots in Chinese cultural tradition. Nineteenth-century China was an unsophisticated agrarian society. The great majority of the Chinese people still embraced both Confucianism and Taoism, religious systems which, to a great extent, reflected the inspirations and aspirations of peasants.
Emigration was generally looked upon as banishment, a severe punishment next only to death. Out of these beliefs grew the concept of sojourning, an idea that stressed the temporary nature of one’s absence from home.
Every answer unearths another question, or a hundred. The question that pesters me now like a burr under my saddle is this: was my great-great-grandfather (whose name I do not know yet) the first Louie in my family to venture thirty-five hundred miles across the Pacific Ocean? Were there others before him? And, if so, how and why? Back to the digs, I mean files. This “archivalologist” found another clue.