The Perfect Storm

I’m back from retreat where all I thought about all week was the nature of reality. I wrote a bit about how life is a balance of accepting what is and assigning meaning to things and thereby co-creating reality. I immersed myself in a full out psychological exploration of that age old question about the meaning of life and the tools for living our best life.

Coming down off the mountains and back to civilization, I’ve had several people ask me how I’m doing. I can’t seem to answer without going into a long dialogue about the insights and realizations I had about life and all that is. Not exactly party conversation.

I have a friend who has suggested perhaps I might benefit from Overthinkers Anonymous. I can’t argue with her much on this one as I am a prolific thinker. There are no shallow ends when it comes to me.

So, I’m pretty much talking about nothing else since I’ve been back. I assume most people get what I’m talking about as they smile and nod their heads in agreement. I am pretty sure, however, that when they asked me how I’ve been doing, they didn’t expect me to launch into a discourse of my spiritual insights.

And so it was I found myself out kayaking on a lake today with a friend, talking about how since life is all perception, we can make it anything we want. It was a beautiful afternoon, the sun was shining, we had gone for a swim, and were sitting on the far end of the cove taking a break from paddling.

One of the interesting things about the whole “you create your own reality” philosophy is when things happen which simply feel like grace. Today that grace was a text from my friends boyfriend mentioning how dark the sky looked. She tells this to me and I pull up my nifty accuweather app on my smart phone which predicts the rain will start in about six minutes.

Looking out across the lake, it was calm, clear and beautiful. Sure, there were a few dark clouds in the sky to the west, but still loads of sunshine where we were. But there on my phone was the radar showing a nasty storm headed our direction.

We decided we’d better head back before it arrived so got back in our boats and started the long paddle back. I could tell from the way my friend kept glancing at the sky she is getting pretty nervous about this coming storm. We both had shared stories about getting caught on the water in the middle of one and neither of us wanted to relive that experience.

So, I’m still in my waxing philosophical mode and I said “we’re going to make it back and the first drops won’t fall until you’re tying the boats to the back of the truck.” She sort of laughs and says, “yeah, okay, I’ll go along with that.” I said, “no, seriously, we can create this anyway we want. Believe it. See us back right before the storm hits. Can you feel it?”

We both played the little game I initiated and made the picture in our minds really clear and strong. The first fat drops wouldn’t fall until the last knot was tied. Taste it, smell it, hear it, feel it. We described the scene with all of our senses.

The sky kept getting darker and we kept going. I’ve paddled all out and fast in storms before and it’s hard work. We were paddling steady but not at a frantic pace. I kept repeating our agreement that the first drops were not going to fall until we were tying up the boats.

Almost there and a few drops of rain start to fall. I looked up and said “Hey, wait a minute, it’s not suppose to fall until we get back.” She laughed and replied: “No, you said the first FAT drops aren’t going to fall until then.” I laughed too, and then the sprinkling actually stopped.

It happened exactly like we had described it from the other side of the lake. The first fat drops came as the last knot was tied and the minute both truck doors were closed, the sky opened up. I think my friend thought it was all a coincidence … but was it? I’m thinking not …