Yesterday I wrote about some little miracles that happened to me last evening. I wasn't even finished before I was thinking of lots others. I could literally write a book about all of them, but highlights from a pilgrimage a few years ago simply tell the story of what can happen if we just get out of the way and allow ourselves to be led.
In June 1998, I was given very clear guidance about some things that I was supposed to do before fall. I had been in Greece to speak at a conference. On the short flight from Athens to a different meeting on Rhodes, I decided to meditate. With great force strong guidance came to me. In the preceding year, I had written my book Choice Point, and, in retrospect, I felt that following this guidance was my "training." I was going to be asked to do everything I'd written. Just totally surrender and allow myself to be led.
I was told to come back to Greece for a month long pilgrimage, but before I did, I was to travel from my home in North Carolina back to my old home towns in Oregon. I was specifically told to see three aging women, all of whom had been important to me "for they are not long for this world." I was puzzled, but followed as guided.
In July, I headed first to Eugene and then south to Medford and Prospect. I saw all three women, and while it was great to see them, quite frankly, they all seemed fine. At the end of August I left for a month in Greece. I had no itinerary, was told to take no credit cards, and very little cash. I was supposed to listen for guidance. The only guidance I received other than that was to "make my way to Thessaloniki," where I was to ask for the English-speaking priest for additional direction and to take four copies of the book. The guidance continued that it would be clear to me who was to receive them.
It was quite a journey, staying in what was then one of Europe's most expensive tourist destinations with $25/day for room, board, and everything else. Yet at every turn, someone would show up on my path with a place to stay or a good, but inexpensive place to stay or eat. I walked a lot and met remarkable people on the journey. About a week into my journey, I had guidance to call my house sitter. He told me that one of the three woman had been diagnosed with advance stage abdominal cancer and had died in just a few days. The second one would be gone in just a few months. The third began to be consumed by Alzheimer's disease. If I hadn't followed where I was led, I would have missed rich last time with each of them.
I made my way to Thessaloniki where I had an amazing experience with an English-speaking priest. Along the way, I had wonderful connections with people each of which taught me something for my spiritual journey. And, I travelled around the country with my four books for over three weeks. I have to say, I was beginning to have doubts, but everything else had gone so perfectly, that in my heart, I knew I would still be guided. With the first three copies, each time I just knew in the moment when it was the right person to receive a book.
The remarkable part of the "book distribution," however, came the last day of the trip. I was to lunch with a Greek-American business woman with whom I'd become acquainted when speaking at a business conference in the US the year before. That summer there had been a series of one-day strikes, and on my last day in Athens, the train operators were striking. The trains had been my way of getting around. Athens was in gridlock. Between buses and walking, I made my appointment. After lunch, I told her about my remaining book.
Loula was not a timid woman and seemed to know everyone in Athens intimately. She was one of those people who is "in charge," and nothing will get in her way when she is intent upon something. Loula directed me to the senior editor at a Greek women's magazine. She told me that he would be expecting me; however, she warned that the Rolling Stones were playing Athens for the first time in over two decades, and he had tickets. I must go there directly, and, oh, by the way, the publishing house was in a neighboring town outside of Athens. OK. The trains aren't running, and I still have to get my book. This is clearly out of my hands.
Loula walked out on the street where hundreds of people, abandoned by their trains, were fighting for an available taxi. She just walked up to one that was occupied, opened the door, said something to the driver and the other passengers, shoved me in, threw money at the driver, and slammed the door. I have no clue where I am going. My Greek wasn't good enough to communicate, so I just sheepishly slid back on the seat with a timid smile.
In 15 to 20 minutes, the taxi pulled up in front of the hostel where I was staying and let me out. As the button says, "That was easy!" It was about 4:30, and my contact would be leaving the office at 6. The man at the front desk had been very helpful previously about helping me with train connections. I told him what I needed to do. He looked at the clock skeptically, and said, "You know the trains are on strike." I smiled. He whispered, "There is a rumor that the trains will start running again at 5 because the train operators don't want to infuriate all the people who would miss the Stones concert if the trains aren't running." I was about 15 minutes from the station.
Bolting up the steps to my room two at a time, I headed for the book and a fast refresh. I was out the door in just a few minutes. I walked into the station at 4:58. At 5 p.m., the gates opened, and I jumped on the first train. I arrived at the small town where the publishing house was located and found my way about two blocks to the office. I had a lovely interview with the editor who gave me a nice goodie bag, and promptly at 6 p.m., he announced that he needed to leave for the concert.
While I can relate the events that occurred that afternoon in September 1998, I cannot find words to describe the experience. It was literally like being carried on an invisible flow with the ease of any unfolding miracle intent on me getting my book into this man's hands. There was quite literally no effort on my part. I just went where I was led. If any of these transition points hadn't gone perfectly, I wouldn't have had my interview, announcing Leading from the Heart to Greece. It happened with the ease of a miracle. Actually, the whole month in Greece happened with the ease of dozens of miracles.
Einstein once wrote, "There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle." When I get out of the way and allow myself to be led, everything is a miracle.
No comments:
Post a Comment