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One

The young man sat on the edge of a limestone pavement in a forest glade facing the early afternoon sun. Not summer but warm and comfortable enough to wear shorts and a T-shirt. He grounded himself to the earth and connected with the cosmic energy. His aura glowed a brilliant orange as he focused on a bulbous knot on the trunk of an ancient oak at the edge of the glade.

A long breath in through the nose filled his lungs, he closed his eyes gently, releasing the breath. His focus behind the eyes strong, he shifted his attention to the third eye. Locked to the earth with a thundering waterfall from his root chakra, thoughts of past, present and future faded away.

“I am one with my body. One with the earth.”

He repeated the mantra as though following a guide. Allowing the final word to drift away when his attention shifted to a tiny pebble on the palm of his left hand. The column of cosmic energy mingled with earth energy and warmed the pebble, moving it slightly. His right hand moved across and palm-down, hovered over the left palm, enclosing the pebble in a ball of dynamic energy.

In that moment he connected and smiled; he sent the energy to somebody in need, opened his eyes and saw his old friend leaning against the ancient oak.

“Hello my old friend. What is it today? Something always presents when we meet.”

“Tell me the story of when you met your love.”

The young man smiled, his look far away in a happy place.

“Lost in a crowd, she noticed me and directed me to where I needed to be.”

“Where was that place?”

“Well, it was a simple dining hall on a university campus. I didn’t realise that it was far more until our hands unintentionally touched. A spark of energy exploded through my body and in the instant it lasted, I knew I must never let her go.”

“It was a profound moment my young friend.”

“That was only the beginning. Within a few hours I met another woman who told the same family history story as my own and we share the same family name. That was special, but nothing compared to what followed.

My love and I sat on a hill later that night. We watched a spectacular show of shooting stars. During that show we opened our hearts and shared our deepest feelings, hopes and desires. Despite present circumstances, we both understood our meeting was absolutely right.”

“What about the other woman? The one with who you share a name.”

“Born on the opposite side of the world and raised in a culture completely different from my own. Yet we came to know one another as though we had always been friends. I can’t explain what brought us together and how, despite living far away and in completely different lives, our connection remains unshakable after more than twenty years.”

“Synchronicity; sometimes the universe conspires to synchronise events such as meeting your friend and your ‘love.’ There is nothing to explain.”

“On this I agree without reservation.”

Drawers Full of Memories

“There’s an image of an old dresser on my mind.”

The older man walked along the footpath a few metres below a high mountain ridge. The younger man followed. They enjoyed companionable solitude, but the young man couldn’t shake the image and asked the wise man for his opinion.

“You are going through a period of great change in your life my young friend. Are things stored in the dresser that need throwing out?”

“My mind is full of memories.”

“Secrets?”

“No, I wouldn’t say that.”

“Yet your response was curt.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound abrupt. I’m not particularly proud of everything in my memory and some things are best not disturbed.”

“Why?”

“Embarrassing, not experiences I wish to share. Others are painful.”

“Yet you store them in the drawers of your dresser.”

Another great mountain came into view as they rounded a large erratic boulder. The young man stopped and leaned, short of breath. The older man looked at him, a slight smile, an obvious concern on his wind-worn face.

“Thinking about the clutter in your dresser is not going to help with anything except draw you back to past events. Why go there? What purpose might it serve?”

The young man still leaned against the boulder but had caught his breath.

“You may as well put your energy into moving the boulder as revisiting those memories.”

“Even if I could move this boulder, it serves no purpose.”

“Quite true my friend. Just as resurrecting those memories serves none. Let this wind in our faces take away your clutter. Leave the drawers open until it’s gone. Make space for new experiences.”

Having done that, they continued along their route with the younger man in the lead. His higher-self took hold of his imagination, expanding his thoughts. His step light, he seemed to float above the path.

“Now work those imaginations into reality but don’t forget to tidy away the clutter occasionally.”

The young man laughed and followed the thread of a great idea. When the path offered two routes, he knew precisely which to follow. He hadn’t allowed all the clutter to blow away, he knew of an audience who may appreciate and learn from his past.

Competition

Walking across a vast grassy plain at the height of summer, a young man met his old friend.

“You look tired my young companion.”

“Yes, I am. Work is difficult. I want promotion because it would pay for the new car.”

“So, chase the promotion.”

“That is precisely what I’m doing, but the competition is great.”

“There is no competition my young friend.”

“Yes, there is. As far as I know, I am one of five internal candidates and I don’t know how many externals.”

“No, you are the only competition. What do you wish to prove?”

The young man glanced at his friend. “Is it not obvious? I have to show them I am the best.”

“Indeed, you can show them that you are great at what you do. But, what if they seek to expand the team with somebody who has complimentary skills to yours? Or, they want a woman instead of a man. These are things outside your control. As I said, you are the competition, and that is only if you aim to be better. Then I agree, there is much competition.”

“Other people who want the job see me as their competition.”

“Yes, I am sure they do and that is because you make them feel insecure. They wish to eclipse your sun because they’re jealous of your daylight. They compare themselves to you, but you are not their competition, nor them yours.”

Time

Sat by a campfire in the wilderness, the young man and his old friend talked beneath a blanket of stars.

“What time is it?” The old man asked.

“I don’t know, I don’t own a watch.” The younger man looked at his wrist.

“Why did you do that? You don’t own a time-piece.

“I used to; habit I guess.”

“You clearly think about time my young friend.”

“Yes, I must. Everything I do is geared to time. Preparing for work in the morning. Going to appointments. Knowing when it will be the weekend.”

“So, time is subjective; a tool used to measure events?”

“Yes, I suppose so, but if I try to live outside time, I will be at odds with the world.”

“Very well; forget about the world and consider this. There is no such thing as time; it’s a human construct. When you think about your past, you experience present memories of things that were or still are if you dwell upon them. Now consider your future. If you harbour those dwelled upon memories your mind may then predict or expect things to come.”

“What’s your point?”

“Simple my young friend. By confining yourself to your own limited slice of existence you waste the brief space of life you have.

Assimilate memories into experience if they are useful. If not, use them as warning flags or discard them. Do the things you must do and create steps to carry you forward. Don’t be wasteful, if you are, you squander your life. Heaven knows so many complain that life is too short.

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