nearest bridge, I finally concluded I would provide a much better parental example by going in search of lice shampoo. Sure enough, on an aisle at Walmart I’d walked down dozens, probably hundreds of times was a complete selection of lice shampoo. Why had I never noticed it before?
Because it wasn’t what I was looking for.
The Chains That Bind Us
“Your wildest misperceptions, your weird imaginings, your blackest nightmares all mean nothing.”
— A C OURSE IN M IRACLES
A few years ago, a sweepstakes agency gave away 100 free trips, to anywhere winners wanted to go. That meant lucky winners could fly to Paris to see the Eiffel Tower or jet to Australia and climb Ayers Rock or lounge on a beach in the Caribbean islands. And you know what? Ninety-five percent of the winners picked a destination within four hours of their home. Four hours.
That pretty much sums up the human condition. So much is out there, but most of us choose to stay within four hours of our “comfort zones.” We refuse to budge, even when there’s ample evidence we’re missing out on big things. Without being truly conscious of it, we spend the lion’s share of our waking hours immersed in the comfort zone of negativity. The pull of the negative is so strong that many of us navigate our entire days jumping from one depressing thought to another: I overslept again, This war is unconscionable, The economy is in shambles, Gas is expensive, My boss [or my kid or my ______] is driving me crazy .
Negativity and fear start the minute we’re born: “It’s a scary world out there, Jimmy. Don’t you dare talk to strangers. Don’t you dare sing that silly song at the grocery store. Someone might hear.”
We learn to limit. We learn to believe in scarcity. We learn that our natural inclination to love and to create and to dance is impractical and crazy.
Our parents think it’s their sworn duty to teach us to be careful, to be responsible, to act like adults. And if for some reason we’re lucky enough to get parents who don’t dispense these lessons, our culture quickly indoctrinates us into believing that collecting material things is our purpose in life and that the only way to get those goodies is to put our proverbial noses to the grindstone. By the time we’re in grade school, we’re already masters at competition, old pros at living in scarcity and fear.
But guess what? It’s all a big ruse, a bad habit. As A Course in Miracles clearly states, “Once you develop a thought system of any kind, you live by it and teach it.” Once you form a belief, you attach all your senses and all your life to its survival.
Physicists call this phenomenon “collapse of the wave.” Infinite numbers of quantum particles are out in the universal field dancing around, spreading out in waves. The moment someone looks at these energy waves they solidify like gelatin in the refrigerator. Your observing is what makes them appear solid, real, material.
Remember in Disney’s Snow White when she’s lying on the forest floor crying? She feels as if all these eyes are staring at her. And indeed, dozens of forest creatures are skittering and scampering about. But the moment she raises her head to look, all the cute little birds, squirrels, and deer dive behind trees. All she can see is a solid, unmoving forest.
In reality, our universe is a moving, scampering energy field with infinite possibilities, but because our eyes have locked in on problem mode, that’s what appears to be reality.
It Sure Looks Like Reality (or You’ll See It When You Believe It)
“You will not break loose until you realize that you yourself forge the chains that bind you.”
—A RTEN IN T HE D ISAPPEARANCE OF THE U NIVERSE , BY G ARY R ENARD
In 1970, Colin Blakemore and G. F. Cooper, scientists at Cambridge University, did a fascinating experiment with kittens. This must have been before animal rights activists got vocal, because what they did was take a litter of kittens and
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