Читать книгу Active Dreaming - Robert Moss A. - Страница 9

Today is the first day of your new life. When you opened this book, you put yourself on a road that will lead you to manifest your life dreams. To follow this road, you’ll want to define who you are and what your life project is all about. This is essential, because the human being is an animal that must define itself or else be defined by others. Let others tell you who you are, and you can find yourself trapped in the cage of other people’s needs and expectations rather quickly. You can find yourself stuck inside a frame and required to forever remain the same. You might be bent double under the weight of a past history you want to let go of but can’t because others keep strapping it on your back. You might find it hard to breathe under the low ceilings of the little box houses of other people’s limiting beliefs about the world and your role in it.

This book will help you get out of those cages and frames and chart your own course in life, to a place of wild creative freedom I call the Place of the Lion. To get there, you need to find your essential life story and tell it and live it so that others can receive it. If you don’t know that your life has an essential story, then you have probably been trapped in a little story, one of those confining stories spun by others that crush your ribs and pinch your throat so you can’t breathe, let alone speak up. You have come to this book because you are ready to break out and claim your bigger story, and to learn to tell it so well that others will not only hear you but also welcome what is most alive and creative in you. When the lion speaks, everyone listens.

You are going to learn an approach to life that I call Active Dreaming. This approach includes paying attention to night dreams, but it is not only, or even essentially, about what happens at night. It is a method for conscious living. When you become an active dreamer, you’ll notice that the world speaks to you in a different way.

As I write these lines, I am poked by a friend on Facebook with a quote from Henry David Thoreau: “Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined.”

This quote is hardly obscure; there’s a whole industry devoted to reproducing it on T-shirts, aprons, posters, bangles, and fridge magnets. Maybe you have it on a coffee mug, as I do.

Thoreau’s words are brilliant, practical advice for conscious living, but only if we can brush off the cliché dust that settles when something is quoted so often that it loses its punch.

So try this, right now, with the words in front of you. Say them out loud. Now make them your own by saying something like: “I go confidently in the direction of my dreams. I am living the life I’ve imagined.”

Are you feeling some forward movement? It requires a next step. You now want to decide on one thing you’ll do today (or tonight) to act on what is now your living, personal affirmation that you are following your dreams (present tense) and you are living the life you’ve imagined. Don’t be vague, and for goodness’ sake don’t try to be spiritually correct. You’ll do one thing to get a great life plan working. Could be as simple as filling that Thoreau mug with another jolt of java to make sure you’re wired for some fabulous problem-solving or creative effort — or some chamomile tea to make you sweet and mellow.

This little plan for brushing the cliché dust off Thoreau is an example of the practice of Active Dreaming as a way of conscious living. We receive what the world gives us as a prompt to turn in a certain direction and make a creative choice.

Active dreamers are choosers. We learn to recognize that, whatever situation we are in, we always have a choice. We choose to stop running away from the monster in our dreams — who may turn out to be our own power hunting us — when we brave up and turn around to confront it. We choose not to buy into self-limiting beliefs or the limited models of reality suggested by others. We learn from Viktor Frankl, an exemplary active dreamer, that we can grow a dream of possibility even inside a Nazi death camp — and that when we can grow that dream strong enough it takes us beyond terror and despair to a place of freedom and delight.

In Persian tradition, there is a knightly order of spiritual warriors known as the Fravartis. They choose to enter this world to fight the good fight. They move in this world with the knowledge of a higher world. They are attuned to a secret order of events beyond the facts recorded in the media and our day planners.

Active dreamers engage with this world in a similar way. We are choosers. We know who we are, where we come from, and that our lives have meaning and purpose. And that part of this purpose is to generate meaning and help others to find meaning in their lives at every opportunity. As Viktor Frankl taught us, rising from the hell of Auschwitz, humans require meaning just as they require air and food and water.

Stories are better teachers than theories. This book will help you find your bigger and braver story — the one that can give you the heart and guts to get through the darkest day — and have that story heard and received by others. So let’s start with a story from the road, to give you a sense of what it means to be an active dreamer on an ordinary day.

MY FIRST FLIGHT OF THE DAY IS DELAYED, and when we land at Chicago’s O’Hare airport a voice mail from the airline informs me that I have missed my connection and have been rebooked, on a combination of flights that will get me to my destination seven hours late, much too late for the dinner and evening event I have planned. Oh joy. But wait — my watch tells me I may just have time to dash from one end of the vast airport complex to the other and make my connection after all.

When I arrive, breathless, at the departure gate, the plane is still on the ground but the doors were closed one minute ago, and no, there’s no way they’ll open them. “But you might be able to catch our other flight to Seattle,” the gate agent tells me. “It’s leaving in thirty minutes.” How can this be? The other flight has been delayed more than three hours. Another run, to the other end of the C concourse, where things don’t look promising. Above the press of anxious, long-delayed faces, I see on the announcements screen that a dozen people are on standby.

I size up the three gate agents at the desk. One has dressed with slightly more sartorial flair than the others and has a rather exotic name: Valerio. I pick him as the man to consult.

“Valerio,” I tell him, “I suspect that you are a magician. And that it will be your pleasure to magic up a seat for me that doesn’t currently exist on this flight.” He receives this statement matter-of-factly, with just the slightest twitch of the laugh lines around his eyes and mouth. It doesn’t look good, he regrets to inform me. I now pull rank, just a little, by mentioning that I fly a lot and therefore have priority status. Okay, that could help, but he can’t promise anything. I’ll need to check back later.

Twenty minutes later, everyone has boarded the plane except for the standby passengers, who now include me. They are closing the door when suddenly I am slipped a boarding pass, the one that shouldn’t exist. Soon I am in a middle seat at the back of the bus, my knees jammed uncomfortably against the back of the seat in front of me. And I’m feeling celebratory.

Maybe picking up on my mood, the fellow sitting to my left initiates a conversation. Soon he’s telling me his life story. Stan is a salt-of-the earth, blue-collar guy. He’s worked for thirty-three years for the same company, making and marketing fire prevention equipment, and they have treated him well and he feels confident that his pension will be there when he retires. It’s the thought of retirement that scares him. Three of his male friends dropped dead within six months of retirement. He’d like some help with this, and asks me, quite directly, what I would suggest.

“Tell me what you love to do,” I respond. “Tell me what you like to do for the sheer pleasure of doing it.”

He thinks about this for a bit. Then he says, “I love the water. I used to go scuba diving. I grew up near the water, on Rhode Island, where there’s a beach down the block whichever direction you take.”

“Are those the beaches you think of when you picture yourself at the water?”

He tells me he’s relocated to North Carolina because of his job, and there’s a beach he likes there as well.

What else does he like?

“I like being with family, with community.” He grew up in a big family, one of twelve siblings. They didn’t have much, but they had each other. “And I like giving back.” He explains that he and some of his brothers banded together recently to buy their parents a house. As I said, this guy is salt of the earth.

What else does he like? “I like the perfect martini,” he says with a naughty grin. “None of them sissy fruit drinks.”

I turn the discussion to skills. What is he really good at?

“Cooking breakfast.”

I’m surprised by his immediate, unconsidered reply. He recalls that as a kid he was often the one who took charge of getting breakfast on the table for his enormous family. “And I loved doing it. I liked the sense of looking after everybody. And I didn’t have to wash the dishes after cooking the bacon.”

What else is he good at? He knows a lot about preventing, containing, and putting out fires. He’s great in the water and behind a wheel on the road. He’s a team player and a connector.

After a while, I say, “I’m going to say a few things to you, and I want you to pretend you are listening to a description of a man you don’t know. Would that be okay?”

He’s intrigued. I start telling him a story about the passions and skills of a certain man, and his need to bring the two together. As I talk, I raise and lower my cupped hands, as if I’m juggling. As I raise my left hand, closer to the heart, I talk of passions, ranging from giving back and looking after a big family to drinking the perfect martini. As I raise my right hand, I talk of skills, from putting out fires to cooking breakfast.

“So what can you see that guy, who has this combination of passions and skills, doing in the second half of his life?”

Stan thinks for a moment, then says, “Owning and running a diner on the beach in North Carolina.”

“A diner. Really?”

“Yes, an old-fashioned family diner.”

“Where you cook three hundred breakfasts.”

“At least. And where they can mix up one mean martini.” There’s that naughty grin. “Hey,” Stan says, clapping me on the shoulder, “I gotta thank you. I’m feeling more juiced and mobilized than I’ve felt since I started dating. I’m already working out a business plan for the diner in my head, and I think I know the perfect location for it. I guess you’re in the wrong seat on the wrong plane all for me.”

He takes a pull on his beer and asks, “What are you going to do when you retire, Robert?”

“You know the answer.”

I wait for him to find it. “Oh — right — you’re never going to retire, because you love what you do.”

“That’s right. I think the great trick in life, wherever you are in the journey, is to do what you love and let the universe support it. When we do what we love, every day is a holiday.”

I was happy I was in the wrong seat on the wrong plane that day. The wrong plane got me to Seattle airport at the time the right plane was supposed to arrive, though my bag took another twelve hours to catch up with me.

I’ll put up with just about anything that has story value, and there was a great story here, one that I retold with gusto at dinner with my students at a training for teachers of Active Dreaming that night.

The story of the man whose dream turned out to be a diner by the beach is a taste of what you are going to find in this book. We do better when we are willing to meet the unexpected and improvise when our plans are screwed up. We do better still when we wake up to the fact that we go through life as synchronicity magnets, attracting to ourselves people and events according to the attitudes and energy we are carrying. When we are charged with purpose, our magnetism increases. When we are following our calling, we move in a natural field of dreams. We draw new allies, events, and resources to us. Chance encounters and benign coincidences support us and ease our passage in ways that are inexplicable to those from whom the spiritual laws of human existence are hidden.

What Stan and I did together on the plane is an everyday example of how we can help each other to grow dreams for life. At the end of that flight, he had his retirement plan, and I had the pleasure of helping him create it. Cooking breakfast for three hundred people in a diner might not be my dream for later life, or yours, but we must never judge how other people follow their chosen callings (as long as they do no harm to others or the earth). The trick is to do what you love and let the world support it. Active dreamers seek to turn all work into play, so that every day is a holiday.