Line Your Yes up with Magic

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My Dad showed up at my home this fall in the final hours of a massive (100+hour) decluttering project I’d been working on with my spiritual friend and mentor Peggy Fitzsimmons.

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for some time now,” he said. “Thanks for finally moving enough noise out of your space to hear.”

He’d been leaving me clues scattered throughout the forest Lily and I roam in for some time now in the form of heart-shaped rocks. Every time I wandered across one I’d add it to my collection and declare, “Gettin’ closer to my wingman.”

I was conjuring an intimate partner to share adventures with, a trusted ally to lean into for support and counsel as I pursued my life’s work. I was focusing on a “live” someone, not putting together that it was him.

 
 

My Dad left planet earth 30 years ago, with our relationship in a fractured state, and it’s been a fascinating journey finding my way through my ‘stories’ of him and back into true connection. When Peggy and I partnered to clear out what I no longer needed to carry around with me, it set off an incredible synchronicity of events (much longer story) that left no doubt he’s very much present with me now.

The message he shared that day was: “Meet me at the trailhead of love. Look for me when you’re outside in the natural world. I’m right here, on the adventure with you.”

 
 
 

ask for what you want - create from what shows up

Shortly after that encounter, I sat with one of my favourite heart shaped rocks and did a Shamanic divination, asking, “What does my Dad most want me to know?” Several beautiful images and answers came in, and then this invitation: “Open to everything that comes. It’s ALL love.”

The rock now felt evocative of his wisdom and guidance, so I placed it at the trailhead of the path I walk and ride every day.

It felt risky; someone else might spot it and feel compelled to take it home. In a moment of second-guessing, I trotted out the next day with a less favourite heart-shaped rock to leave in it’s place, but it immediately felt wrong.

Downgrading magic for certainty is a crappy strategy.

The rock that wanted to live in this space had spoken, the feedback was clear. I swapped it back.

It’s been there for 8 months now. Each day when I pass I call out “Hi Dad!”, now and then taking a moment to rest a hand on it and connect with his presence. I’ve come to love this secret game in the forest with my father.

A couple of days ago I cruised past on my bike, tossing out my usual greeting as I glanced over, “Hi D…”.

And there it was, gone.

 
 
 
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My brain hit the brakes, demanding time to process the vacancy.

Wtf?

Someone had just upended the game board and stolen off with the game.

 
 
 

Parachuting into Yes

First stop: Victim (a.k.a.—hell fucking no)

‘The universe is out of order’ script launched, running mental laps on repeat as I battled away.

“Is it not obvious that rock was put there with care and intention? Do you think it just landed there in perfect position all on it’s own? I found it, I put it there. It’s not just there for the taking because you decided you like it. It’s my rock, fucker. Give it back.”

 
 
 

Second stop: Spiritual bypass (Looks like yes. Isn’t.)

“Ok, ok. It isn’t MY rock. It wasn’t mine when I found it and moved it from wherever it was then. It wasn’t mine when I had it in my possession, or when I put it out here in the forest. And it’s definitely not mine now that someone else has moved it somewhere else.

It’s a rock for godsake, it doesn’t belong to anyone. Get over yourself.”

This seemed like a way to get right with the situation, but I knew it was a head fake.

Anything that doesn’t include and create from what’s here right now is an attempt to peace out that skips over a deeply authentic response. Something is wanting to emerge through you when you come up against a confronting experience.

 
 
 

Landing in the sweet spot: Curious engagement.

The somebody-done-me-wrong game is endlessly unsatisfying. My role is to rail against the offense and seek to control the offender. It leads to brief moments of ease when I think I’ve got the world lined back up according to plan, but just give it 5 minutes.

And the transcend-all-discomfort game is an attempt to live in an alternate universe where nothing bothers me. Not gonna happen. As long as I’m human and have an ego installed in my operating system, I’m going to have strong reactions to anything unwanted that life rolls into my court.

Conjuring magic requires imagining there’s an order that’s much more complex and interconnected than what we can see from our limited vantage point in the universe, then getting ourselves lined up with that energy.

I wrote a note. Ran it past a couple of friends for blind spots—was I blaming, criticizing, demanding, controlling? (I’m an expert at dressing that shit up to look like I’m not.)

Once it felt clean, I pinned it to the spot where the rock used to live.

 
 
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It’s a volley with ‘what is’ that feels curious, authentic and open to possibility. Will see what happens next.


Attaching to what you want is short-sighted—and diminishing what you want takes you out of the game.

Both positions limit creativity, and disconnect you from the resiliency and resourcefulness you have in spades.

You get to honour your inner wanting. The trick is to know where the wanting is coming from.

Ego wanting is fear driven, and guided by the energy of, “I won’t be okay without it.” Joyful wanting comes from your creative nature, you can tell you’re in it when you know you’ll be fine either way.

Asking clearly for what you want, and being open to create with what shows up, is a headlong dive into the mystery that trusts you’re fully equipped to play.