“We just went through a portal,” I said to Chuck, after an unusual weekend about a month ago when everything seemed strange and different, when we’d lost all energy and all we could do was lie around in a daze, moaning about our inertia. Suddenly, everything became clear. “This is just what we asked for!” I said. “This is exactly what we need!”
Indeed, we had set the intent to shift. With spring on the horizon and so much left undone, it was time to rev up and face the truth: we were bored. We were suffering from the winter blues. Boredom became our catalyst, but there was something even deeper that was stirring, our spirits calling out to us from beyond the veils of everyday life, calling us to keep going, to not forget that we are beings who are going to die.
“Make this time in this world extraordinary,” Carlos Castaneda said to his audience on August 7, 1995 at a workshop in Culver City, California. “Make this time in this world extraordinary.” Such simple and yet such provocative words! What more could we need to jolt us back into truly living!
Just what was it that had gotten us into such a bored state to begin with? The answer is: “The encumbering weight of Me,” wise words also spoken by Castaneda at that same workshop. “We have let something win by default and we will never actualize our possibilities,” he went on to say. “It’s worthwhile to get rid of this encumbering weight.”
And so began a great unencumbering. Weighed down by all we carry within, recapitulation was the necessary and effective antidote. In the weeks that followed our portal weekend, the portal itself seemed to narrow. Holding us in its tight embrace, we faced what we needed to face. Such were the inner workings of our intent to shift, while on the outside our lives flowed along, the energy of our intent and the honed energy of being in the portal keeping us focused and alert. Suddenly it was time to shift again.
We spent the weekend in Manhattan. Quickly planned for, almost spur of the moment, we arranged for a couple of key events. The rest of our time there was spent on the Upper West Side, in the dream that is New York City, in the vastness of energy that only a big city can provide. We entered the flow of that energy for the time we were there. By the time we were heading home on Sunday night, our energy had honed to accomplish the return. With little attachment, we left the city and all of our experiences behind. We entered the next dream. Chuck drove us out of the city and then I took over the wheel. My intent now was to seamlessly flow northward along the energy lines that led back to Red Hook where we live. The empty Taconic Parkway stretched before me. We were the only car on the road.
I made the decision to speed up. I have a perfect driving record. I’ve never gotten a ticket, not even a parking ticket. Well, maybe one $10 parking ticket back when I lived in Brooklyn in 1983. I thought St. Patrick’s Day was a federal holiday, and so I decided not to put a coin in the meter. It was only a ten cent fee, and something told me to do it anyway, but I didn’t. When I came back to my car there was a ticket stuck to the windshield. But on Sunday night there was no uncomfortable feeling to accompany my decision.
“I don’t want to get a speeding ticket, but I just cannot let this opportunity go by,” I thought. “There’s no one on the road. This could be fun!” And so I sped up, not enough to risk being pulled over, but certainly enough to enjoy the ride, the thrill of the open road.
After a while, I noticed my mind starting to wander, thoughts of the weekend seeping in, one dream overlapping another. I had to stay focused. “Okay,” I said to myself. “You are in a new dream. You have to wake up and stay awake in this dream.” And so I dreamed within my dream. I entered a video game dream, with the intent to maneuver past all obstacles. Keeping my attention honed, I played to perfection. Following the narrow beam of the headlights, I sped along, into the ever-narrowing portal of the night.
The next morning arrived, the intent of my video game dream still operative as we began our week with a similar intent: to flow seamlessly and without distraction, to make each moment important and fruitful, to, as Castaneda said, “Make this time in this world extraordinary!”
The week progressed. Energy and attention honed to work. By the middle of the week I began to feel as if I were in a vise; my energy felt like it was being squeezed out of me. “Oh my God, I never left the video game; I’m still driving down the Taconic!” I thought. “I have to wake myself up and dream a new dream!”
With that intent, a new dream began. Instantly things shifted. I felt myself pop right out of the video game and land with a plop, my energy released, my mind suddenly clear. “I just escaped the wormhole I’ve been in all week,” I said to Chuck. “You were there too! We were dreaming the same dream. We were stuck on the Taconic, still driving in my video game dream. Welcome to our new dream!”
And what is the new dream? Well, it’s really pretty simple. It’s just what Carlos Castaneda said to his audience that day in Culver City: “Make this time in this world extraordinary!” Keep dreaming a new dream. Set the intent and let it happen. It really works!
Dreaming all the time,