Cyndi Dale is a guest in the upcoming Evolver Learning Lab course, "Bioenergetic Healing Demystified: Energy Modalities for Mind, Body and Soul." Reality Sandwich's Talat Jonathan Phillips hosts this 5-part live, interactive video course that covers the wide range of health and spiritual benefits available to you through the power of energy healing. Also joining Talat as guests will be Anodea Judith, Richard Gordon, and Leslie Berman. It all starts on June 27.
My father built airplanes in our garage. These skeletal husks, unloaded from a huge truck and deposited onto our front lawn, would gawk like gigantic insects missing their innards. Composed only of frame and sheathing, they were frightening. I imagined them as contemptible bugs that would eat me, once their brains were inserted.
My father would grin ear to ear before grabbing a few neighborhood men, who would start chatting about ribs and wires, airspeed and instruments. Attaching a few ropes, they would haul the airplane into the garage, where it would cocoon for months, before it was time to connect the wings. This would be done in the backyard, for the entire world to see, as our house backed up on a highway.
Consequently, I grew up being called the girl with the airplane in her yard. I imagine I could have cashed this statement in like a stock amongst boys, who are universally predisposed toward all things mechanical, but I didn’t know how to capitalize on my reputation. I only knew it made me weird, and different wasn’t a commodity in my hometown. So I ignored the airplanes and my father, when he was indulging in his project, until much later in my life.
That was a choice I made. Had I known that airplanes would make an even more powerful impression on me later in my life, I would have devoted days upon end to my father’s projects, to being his “airplane devotee.” But as a young girl, I lacked the tools I needed to negotiate this choice point in a loving way.
A crossing point or choice point is like a crosswalk. We all look back to the junctions that made a concrete difference in our lives. We remember the thrill, but also the hardship involved, in turning a 90-degree corner or taking the truly extraordinary path. We might not have known the exact outcome–and we most certainly wouldn’t have predicted, nor wanted to have seen, all the twists and turns. But we can pinpoint much of our life goodness to the successful negotiating of these crossing points.
In my work, I often have to help clients determine the nature of a choice point and support them in making the highest decision. There are several tools that lift us above the everyday and enable us to see beyond the horizons. And who among us doesn’t want to do our best when negotiating the crosscurrents of life (or at the very least, find a way to stay afloat long enough to figure out what is going on)? These tools encompass our clairvoyance and energetic boundaries.
Clairvoyance is the spiritual gift of seeing. With our clairvoyance we can envision the potential future, the already occurred past, and even concurrent events. We can peer into the soul of another or lift the veil of the universe’s mysteries. We can see.
For some, the images are psychic. They appear as colors, symbols, shapes, and even slide shows on our mental screen. These pictures might flash when we’re in a supermarket or during our dreamtime. For others, clairvoyance is more literal. We perceive three license plates in a row that steer us a certain direction or walk into a room and follow our eyes to a person whom ends up answering a burning question.
Still others of us access our clairvoyance through other intuitive skills. We “smell” a rose or “sense” another’s mood. We might simply “know” what an image looks like or what healing is needed for self or other.
What might have happened if I could have seen my dad’s heart instead of through the lens of my own insecurity?
This question calls forth the second major tool, so useful for assessing the moment and planning for the future. It is energetic boundaries.
Fields of light surround each of us. These are energetic boundaries that emanate from each cell, organ, and energy center, or chakra. Programmed by our inner cell, these fields decide what of the outside world we’re going to let in–or keep out.
If we’re heart-centered, we’re going to notice what is good in the world. We are going to receive the support and love (and yes, life lessons) we need to fulfill our spiritual mission. We will refuse the situations, people, and traumatic events that don’t align with our true self. We’ll also “tune out” the messages that fail to match what is truly for our own and others’ higher good.
And what might have happened if my boundaries were sufficiently able to align me, as a youngster, with what was really important? Did the opinions of the “cool kids” need to outweigh my relationship with my father?
Using our clairvoyance, in our own special and unique way, is key to seeing what’s really going on and deciding what to do (or not to do) about it. Sometimes we have to switch the lens through which we see life to make different–and potentially healthier choices.
Establishing and maintaining truth-centered energetic boundaries assures us of the strength and power we need to select a path and stay on it. Together, these are two mechanisms important for just plain living a love-based life, one in which a tiny ripple in a lake can produce as huge a result as a magnificent wave in the ocean. Together, these two factors can enable us to direct ourselves clearly through all crossing points.
And isn’t every moment in life a choice point? Isn’t every decision a choice between remaining as we are versus becoming even more of the spirit we already are?
Such was the second choice point that involved an airplane and my father.
Years after I had left home, my father was diagnosed with lung cancer. He had just undergone both surgery and radiation when I visited him in the hospital, expecting to hear that the procedures had been successful. I had been given reason to believe that they were. Instead, he sat in the bed and stared at me, until we both heard the drone of an airplane outside the room.
“That’s an airplane, dad,” I remarked, not too intelligently. I was hoping he would light up; describe it as a Cessna or Piper, a two- or four-seater. Instead he asked me to close the drapes. That’s when I knew that he was dying.
That moment presented me with a life altering decision. My teacher was regret. I recognized how selfish I had previously been, to view his hobby only through my own viewfinder. Too late, I comprehended the real meaning of his love of flight. I saw that it represented his ideas about life, the desire for the skies, a hidden, free wheeling style, and a compelling drive to reach the horizon. I saw the death of hope in his acceptance of mortality. And I vowed to let my own soul fly as long as I was alive, for truly, we are only here to progress our soul.
After that day, I decided to fly more, in my own way. I stopped being afraid of the lessons life handed me and instead, ripped into them with my teeth and savored their juices.
We constantly stand at the corner of yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Where we are, there is our soul. Where our soul is, is Spirit. And there is the breeze of change that can fly us into life, carry us to the heavens, and fan us while we walk this earth. There is hope.
Image by Fabio Ricco, courtesy of Creative Commons license.
