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serindeSo. Passport. Quite, quite missing.
Simultaneous with this, I have been reading (on![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nedlnthred's earnest and, in the event, utterly accurate recommendation) Eat, Pray, Love; which I'm halfway through the "pray" part, and one of the consistent themes is about the author's learning to open herself to what abundance the universe/God/whatever you want to call it is prepared to give her to answer her needs. This is also, of course, a consistent theme in yoga (which the author practices; well duh), and it's entirely in tune with some central ideas in the Artist's Way, and if you squint a bit it's pretty close to a lot of aikido concepts too.
If I'm trying to follow these paths, perhaps I should listen to the points where they all seem to be in agreement, yes? No matter how tree-hugging hippie nonsense it may seem to my corn-fed superego. So as I lay in bed last night, I stopped racking my brain for Where Could The Goddamn Thing Be, and relaxed both body and mind (yoga people: aiming for the kind of head-state you get during shivasana) and just peopled it with a wishing/wanting/desiring to receive the location of my passport.
Three minutes later, a picture came in, which was of the black tote bag with the shiny embroidery thatsweh brought me back from London, which was still at the house (or inna box, but I thought it was at the house {which it was}). Um, okay. We'll try it. It's plausible.
So here I am in Fair Lawn, and there is the tote bag in the library closet, and THERE IS THE FUCKING PASSPORT.
Thank you, O universe. Or O subconscious. Or whatever combination of influences led me here.
Simultaneous with this, I have been reading (on
nedlnthred's earnest and, in the event, utterly accurate recommendation) Eat, Pray, Love; which I'm halfway through the "pray" part, and one of the consistent themes is about the author's learning to open herself to what abundance the universe/God/whatever you want to call it is prepared to give her to answer her needs. This is also, of course, a consistent theme in yoga (which the author practices; well duh), and it's entirely in tune with some central ideas in the Artist's Way, and if you squint a bit it's pretty close to a lot of aikido concepts too. If I'm trying to follow these paths, perhaps I should listen to the points where they all seem to be in agreement, yes? No matter how tree-hugging hippie nonsense it may seem to my corn-fed superego. So as I lay in bed last night, I stopped racking my brain for Where Could The Goddamn Thing Be, and relaxed both body and mind (yoga people: aiming for the kind of head-state you get during shivasana) and just peopled it with a wishing/wanting/desiring to receive the location of my passport.
Three minutes later, a picture came in, which was of the black tote bag with the shiny embroidery that
sweh brought me back from London, which was still at the house (or inna box, but I thought it was at the house {which it was}). Um, okay. We'll try it. It's plausible. So here I am in Fair Lawn, and there is the tote bag in the library closet, and THERE IS THE FUCKING PASSPORT.
Thank you, O universe. Or O subconscious. Or whatever combination of influences led me here.
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Date: 2008-11-30 04:33 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2008-12-01 05:15 pm (UTC)Have a wonderful trip!
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Date: 2008-12-01 06:22 pm (UTC)