In September of 2018, I made a two-year commitment to a study called “The Dharma Path,” with Barbara Brodsky and Aaron. I have once again been amazed at how your intention creates your experience. In Buddhism, dharma means “cosmic law and order,” and is also applied to the teachings of the Buddha. In Buddhist philosophy, dhamma/dharma is also the term for “phenomena.”
About ten days ago, one of the board members of Deep Spring (the organization Barbara Brodsky founded) asked for my help with marketing and communication. While we were talking, a woman kept coming to mind. I made contact with this woman asking if she might be willing to help. Her reply was, “God no! I hate that stuff. I don’t even do my own. I pay tens of thousands so I don’t have to.” I thanked her for knowing what was true for her, and asked if she might know of anyone who would work with us pro bono.
Several days later, just as I was mentioning some of this to my husband, I received a text from this woman, saying she had made contact with a marketing person who was willing!
Wow. Can you feel the timing?
A few days later, I had a consult with the marketing person. We had a good connection, one made even more precious for me because the woman’s voice took me to my heart. Her voice sounded exactly like the voice of a woman I was blessed to work with years ago. The story of that woman is in my book of stories: Falling Together in Love.
I asked if she knew Barbara’s story; did she know Barbara is deaf. No, she did not. I shared how Barbara had lost her hearing (and her equilibrium!) at the birth of her first child. The loving non-physical being, Aaron, who teaches through Barbara, came forth in spirit to help her find peace from the suffering. I mentioned how people sign the first letter of each word to help Barbara read lips.
Chills ran up and down my spine when the woman told me she had attended an ASL elementary school. American sign language! The marketing woman knows and can sign the entire alphabet…
What are the odds? Right.
We agreed to another call and were excited to proceed with discovering how she could help the Deep Springs board meet growth goals.
I spoke with my friend who had made the connection, told her about the sign language connection and that the reason she was able to say yes to working pro bono was because she is creating an agency, and has an intern starting after the first of the year. It would be a great opportunity for her to develop skill working with a board, and possible because of the intern.
My friend who connected me to the marketing person is looking for a new marketing agency….
This morning I opened an email message from the marketing person. She found out that the intern can only work with local businesses, so she is unable to help us.
Can you feel the waves of up and down? This is how life rolls. The entire point of the two-year study is stabilizing the heavy emotions so we are not tossed around by our grasping at things we want and our pushing against the unwanted.
We do not know what is best, but we can trust.
While the rest of the story unfolds, you can choose to stay present with your breath, remembering that it is the nature of life for conditions to change. Recently I have used the metaphor of a kaleidoscope—you cannot move just one single piece of glass. Everything is connected to everything, and god is good.
Years ago I read a story about an old man with a white horse. It has come to be “Say Only” in my mind, and many of you have heard it over the years. Several online versions exist, but since I read it first in Max Lucado’s book, In the Eye of the Storm, below is that version.
Max Lucado (In the Eye of the Storm)
The Old Man and the White Horse
Once there was an old man who lived in a tiny village. Although poor, he was envied by all, for he owned a beautiful white horse. Even the king coveted his treasure. A horse like this had never been seen before – such was its splendor, its majesty, its strength.
People offered fabulous prices for the steed, but the old man always refused. “This horse is not a horse to me,” he would tell them. “It is a person. How could you sell a person? He is a friend, not a possession. How could you sell a friend.” The man was poor and the temptation was great. But he never sold the horse.
One morning he found that the horse was not in his stable. All the village came to see him. “You old fool,” they scoffed, “we told you that someone would steal your horse. We warned you that you would be robbed. You are so poor. How could you ever protect such a valuable animal? It would have been better to have sold him. You could have gotten whatever price you wanted. No amount would have been to high. Now the horse is gone and you’ve been cursed with misfortune.”
The old man responded, “Don’t speak too quickly. Say only that the horse is not in the stable. That is all we know; the rest is judgment. If I’ve been cursed or not, how can you know? How can you judge?”
The people contested, “Don’t make us out to be fools! We may not be philosophers, but great philosophy is not needed. The simple fact that your horse is gone is a curse.”
The old man spoke again. “All I know is that the stable is empty, and the horse is gone. The rest I don’t know. Whether it be a curse or a blessing, I can’t say. All we can see is a fragment. Who can say what will come next?”
The people of the village laughed. They thought that the man was crazy. They had always thought he was a fool; if he wasn’t, he would have sold the horse and lived off the money. But instead, he was a poor woodcutter, and old man still cutting firewood and dragging it out of the forest and selling it. He lived hand to mouth in the misery of poverty. Now he had proven that he was, indeed, a fool.
After fifteen days, the horse returned. He hadn’t been stolen; he had run away into the forest. Not only had he returned, he had brought a dozen wild horses with him. Once again, the village people gathered around the woodcutter and spoke. “Old man, you were right and we were wrong. What we thought was a curse was a blessing. Please forgive us.”
The man responded, “Once again, you go too far. Say only that the horse is back. State only that a dozen horses returned with him, but don’t judge. How do you know if this is a blessing or not? You see only a fragment. Unless you know the whole story, how can you judge? You read only one page of a book. Can you judge the whole book? You read only one word of one phrase. Can you understand the entire phrase?”
“Life is so vast, yet you judge all of life with one page or one word. All you have is one fragment! Don’t say that this is a blessing. No one knows. I am content with what I know. I am not perturbed by what I don’t.”
“Maybe the old man is right,” they said to one another. So they said little. But down deep, they knew he was wrong. They knew it was a blessing. Twelve wild horses had returned. With a little work, the animals could be broken and trained and sold for much money.
The old man had a son, an only son. The young man began to break the wild horses. After a few days, he fell from one of the horses and broke both legs. Once again the villagers gathered around the old man and cast their judgments.
“You were right,” they said. “You proved you were right. The dozen horses were not a blessing. They were a curse. Your only son has broken both his legs, and now in your old age you have no one to help you. Now you are poorer than ever.”
The old man spoke again. “You people are obsessed with judging. Don’t go so far. Say only that my son broke his legs. Who knows if it is a blessing or a curse? No one knows. We only have a fragment. Life comes in fragments.”
It so happened that a few weeks later the country engaged in war against a neighboring country. All the young men of the village were required to join the army. Only the son of the old man was excluded, because he was injured. Once again the people gathered around the old man, crying and screaming because their sons had been taken. There was little chance that they would return. The enemy was strong, and the war would be a losing struggle. They would never see their sons again.
“You were right, old man,” They wept. “God knows you were right. This proves it. Your son’s accident was a blessing. His legs may be broken, but at least he is with you. Our sons are gone forever.”
The old man spoke again. “It is impossible to talk with you. You always draw conclusions. No one knows. Say only this. Your sons had to go to war, and mine did not. No one knows if it is a blessing or a curse. No one is wise enough to know. Only God knows.”
