In 2009 I was on a commuter flight from North Carolina to Florida. As we were preparing for take-off, the pilot speaking in a charming southern drawl, informed the passengers of our flying conditions. There would be, he stated, “. . . a few bumps on the climb-out.” Nobody seemed to notice this declaration but me. I do not like turbulence and this was certainly a benign way of preparing us for the stormy flight conditions we were about to experience.
We are born into this human experience unwittingly acquiescing to whatever the karmic weather conditions might be. The journey of cause and effect is neither good nor bad. It is a sometimes baffling combination of positive movement in our lives as well as frustrating challenges. Accepting this undisclosed karmic agenda can be hard. We resent our circumstances; blame our parents or other authority figure, feel sad and hopeless, or any other form of subconscious resistance. I know these resistances first hand and yet, still often find myself either resenting or feeling sad about the most challenging hardships that I have faced my whole life. That is how I know it is karmic. Same issue, different circumstances. It follows me everywhere I go, forcing me to deal with it over and over again. I surmount it, become free, only to have life hand me another episode in a new form.
We all suffer these karmic ‘bumps’ that knock us about on ‘the climb-out’ to awakening. It is easy to see the patterns in others, but mine, although unchanging in their essence, still disrupt my serenity like mischievous elves determined to trip me up. Invariably, when I finally rise up above my personal turbulence, there is a sense of regret that I once again fell for the trickery of the mind. How could I not see this so clearly?
Most people think, however, that this letting go process is a sign of failure, defeat, or powerlessness. It is not. To walk the high road of consciousness, we need to walk in harmony with Source. Along the way life’s turbulence can throw us off balance. One of my first experiences of a California earthquake left me feeling dizzy and ungrounded. The seemingly solid earth shook my heavy platform bed with a roar that sounded like a freight train charging through my bedroom. There wasn’t an advance warning. I had no choice but to ride that uncomfortable earth-wave for its’ short, but terrifying duration.
Living for two decades in a hurricane-prone climate helped me to psychologically prepare for an unpredictable weather season. I figured out that if I called on the spiritual energy that symbolizes storms, acquiescing to its’ power, that I was then ostensibly under its’ care. I could ride out even the most dangerous tempest knowing I was being protected. This is a form of surrender. When I did this, I felt empowered and safe. Did that make a hurricane less intense? No, but I was on the other side of fear, and could then witness the journey from a place of respect and awe. Like the charming pilot declared, there will be “some bumps on the climb-out,” but it doesn’t mean that we won’t arrive safely at our destination. Bumpy ride or not.
© Asandra 2013