The Trickster is everywhere, waiting to draw us in. Even in moments of deep contemplation and worthy endeavor the Trickster may appear, throwing a mighty chink in the works of our deepest inner process. Today, I write one more story related to the day my aunt died, as it seems relevant to the message channeled from infinity on Monday: Show me Something.

As I have written of in several blogs over the past few weeks, my aunt’s dying was a process that spanned years. Together we had spoken of her death, read numerous books about the dying process together, and in her last few weeks spent many hours talking until she could do little more than utter a few words at a time. Finally, in full awareness, she set her intent. She was done with this life. She was ready. She asked me to be with her, to see her through the dying process.

I set out early in the morning to sit with her. On the drive to the hospital, I threw out a plea to the universe: “Please give me a sign,” I pleaded, “just one sign to show me what to do. I’ve never done this before. I’m nervous about being all that she needs me to be on this most important day.”

At the first stoplight I came to, I noticed a red and black bumper sticker on the car ahead of me. I inched closer, trying to read the small print. Here is what I read: Gandalf Murphy’s S……… Circus of Dreams. I couldn’t make out the word beginning with the letter S, but I was struck. Circus of Dreams! That must be meaningful, I thought.

At the next stoplight, I inched even closer, still trying to read the word beginning with the letter S. It’s then that I noticed the picture on the bumper sticker, a magician in a top hat, a big leer beneath a large curling mustache. A Trickster! Now I was wary, but I was still drawn to try and read the word beginning with the letter S. Could it be Sensational? Stupendous? What does all this mean? It must be significant or why else would I be so drawn to it?

There were no stoplights for a long stretch. “Focus on the road ahead,” I heard a voice say, “don’t get distracted.” Okay, but I still wondered what that word was that I couldn’t read clearly.

I came into Rhinebeck and stopped behind the same car at the light. Something told me, very firmly, not to look at the bumper sticker anymore. It wasn’t important. I turned my gaze to the left and then I got it. I spotted the Tibetan store and I knew that, indeed, I must not get distracted from the mission at hand.

The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying by Sogyal Rinpoche, and the writings of Tulku Thondup are instrumental in my own evolutionary process and were major players in my aunt’s process of dying. We had been waiting for this day for a long time. Now I understood what the message of the bumper sticker was: Don’t let anything distract you from the mission of the day. Your aunt’s intent is all that matters. You will be fine. That bumper sticker is nothing compared to how much preparation you have already done for this moment in your life. Stay focused on the mission.

From that moment on I never glanced at the bumper sticker again. My eyes were focused on the road ahead of me, which turned into a tunnel without further distraction, leading me to whatever dream would unfold as the day progressed. I let myself become part of the transformational process that was already in progress without attachment to fear or self-consciousness. I arrived at my destination having fully detached from all that was going on in the world outside me. All that mattered was the intent of the day. I shrugged off everything except what my aunt asked of me: to become what she needed; an energetic presence guiding and guarding her own energy as she took her final breath and swam into the light.

In being open to the process of asking for guidance, in asking infinity to “Show me something!” as Monday’s message guides us to do, I was also confronted with correctly interpreting the message I received that day. Had I gotten caught in my endeavor to look too closely at the bumper sticker, any number of outcomes could have resulted. But as soon as I turned away, listening to another voice telling me to let it go, I clearly understood that nothing else mattered but the mission at hand.

The Trickster pulls us constantly away from the real mission at hand: to evolve, to rid ourselves of our attachments, our agendas, our angers and selfishness, to be fully open and present for others, so that their journeys may be smoothed by our true and selfless presence in their lives. This is what I strove for on that day when I drove to the hospital to be with my aunt. The mission was not only her smooth dying process, but also my own letting go to the process. And that is what happened, we both let go, she of this life in her body and me of my self-consciousness and fear.

As I went with the flow, aligning with her needs and intent, I became—without thought really—energetically available. That is what I believe we are all prompted to do every day, to learn how to flow through our lives, making choices that matter, dismissing what in not in alignment with our greater mission. That is what the message on Monday asked us to consider when it said: Challenge infinity and dare yourself to experience something that will lead you to greater understanding.

It takes baby steps. Oh, and learning to identify the Trickster and then reject its intent to usurp our energy. And remember: the Trickster is not human, but energy that wants what it wants for its own selfish purposes. Watch out how it comes into your life. Just as the good signs of guidance come in many forms, so does the Trickster. It can be very tricky just trying to figure out the message we are supposed to learn.

I never did read that last word on that bumper sticker that day. I let it go, until I thought about writing this blog. Through a little Internet research, I discovered that the bumper sticker referred to a band: Gandalf Murphy’s Slambovian Circus of Dreams. In knowing that, I see that it’s relevance to the mission of that day was exactly what I needed.

It let me know, in one sense, that I was about to enter my own dream world and to not get caught up in someone else’s. It let me know that nothing was as uniquely and magically attractive as the mission at hand. I was being asked to stay attuned, aligned with what I was being asked to do: to guide another human being through her last hours on earth, to see her through to new life. Isn’t that what we’re all here to do: see ourselves through to new life?

Thanks for reading. Here’s hoping my experiences of the Trickster help in the unfolding of everyday life, tricky or otherwise.

Jan