Holy cow – in the homestretch of the course. I say ‘of the course’ because this kind of process never really ends. I’m interested to hear about Mark and Davene’s exit strategy; myself, personally, I’m going to start all over at the beginning, read the master keys again week by week – I’m sure I’ve missed lots of the nuances, kind of like how Jeff Olson explains it in The Slight Edge: “I can read a book like As a Man Thinketh, return it to my bookshelf, then come back a year later to read it again – and it feels like somebody sneaked into my room while I was sleeping and completely rewrote the book!” I’m looking forward to seeing things I didn’t see the first time through. Hopefully we’ll still have access to the webinars, but even if we don’t, maybe some mastermind partners and I can get together and have discussion sessions. (My favorite uncle, who passed away a couple years ago, read The Divine Comedy by Dante every year in the original Italian with a group of friends and then they would discuss the passages and each relate what new wisdom they had gained. This process has been seriously rough in patches, but why invest so much time and effort only to stop after the twenty-sixth week? That’s just silly.)
Lotsa thoughts buzzing around in my head this week.
When reading Master Key 19, that scene from the first Men In Black keeps occuring to me. You know the one. Where Agent K (Tommy Lee Jones) is recruiting James Edwards, who becomes Agent J (Will Smith) and says, “Fifteen hundred years ago everybody knew the Earth was the center of the universe. Five hundred years ago everybody knew the Earth was flat, and fifteen minutes ago you knew that humans were alone on this planet.” And his voice drops to that gravelly, impressive Tommy Lee tone – “Imagine what you’ll know tomorrow.”
Appearances are deceptive because we don’t know all there is to know yet. Everything new that we learn, once we’ve developed the neurons necessary to be able to think about it, changes how we perceive what is. Myself, personally, I’m not sure we ever will know everything – at least not while we’re still physical beings. The mind might be unlimited, but the meat brain can only hold just so much and Universal Truth is so… Very… All-Encompassing… that at our stage of evolution our brains would fry if we tried to comprehend it all, all at once. So we get glimmers. Flashes of insight. Flickers of intuition. And we keep asking questions, pushing boundaries, developing new neurons, and eventually learn and accept enough to change what is “common knowledge.”
(You know, learning that really explained a lot for me. I’d wondered throughout my life why it was I would grasp some things so quickly and yet require time to mull over others that seemed so much simpler.)
Hey – do you remember when Mark was talking about the compound in Kauai, about how he had envisioned himself and Davene, and Davene had envisioned the entire family, and turned out The Fab D’s vision was the stronger of the two? So one of the thoughts kicking around my head this week is wondering what determines that stronger vision. Emotion, determination, certainty? (I know, I know – “Unbridled enthusiasm.”)
Trouble is, I can be enthusiastic, but I just don’t do ‘unbridled’ enthusiasm. Even when I’m excited about something, there’s a measure of deliberate control involved, and there’s always a part of my mind watching and evaluating. So how does strength of vision work under those circumstances?
Rather well, apparently. It’s been four weeks since Jerry’s hip replacement surgery; he was scheduled to go back for a checkup and he was less than confident about it. I told him, “We will go, the doctor will give you a look-see and be pleased, he will give you a clean bill of recovery and then you can drive home.” (That’s what’s bothered him the most while he’s been recovering – not the driving so much, but that temporary loss of independence associated with not being allowed to drive.) And Jerry’s response was, “Oh, I don’t know. I think maybe he’ll have seen a lot better, and want me to come back in a couple more weeks, because I’m really not that good. But it could go like that, I guess.” Completely overlooking the fact that he doesn’t even use the walker anymore, and never went through the intermediate stages of crutches or cane. And I said, “It will go like that, I have decreed it.”
Doc Maybry said of Jerry’s new X-rays that they were “perfect” and Jerry’s recovery “couldn’t be better.” He cleared Jerry to drive and start resuming side-to-side motion of the leg, though with the proviso that the restriction “If it hurts, stop” is still in effect. Still more healing to be done over the next several months, with the first three being the period when the major mending happens. But unless Jerry or I have questions or concerns, he doesn’t need to be seen for his hip until the one-year mark.
I never exercised any concsious enthusiasm toward the outcome, but I was absolutely confident it would work out the way I envisioned; Jerry was less certain and more pessimistic, but his overall emotion was stronger than mine – it always is, always has been; he’s a far more emotional being than I am. So what’s the defining line? How does it work?
Looking forward to exploring more and finding out… even after the course ends.