The Fifth Dimension of Heaven

“You attract what you are.” This is what Groom announced to me the other day. He read it in a book. “Therefore,” say Confucius-husband, “You must become what you desire.”

Now how does this make a lick of sense? If I’m hungry, I want to attract food to put into my belly, not become food. If my bank account needs an infusion of cash, I want to attract money. If I’m feeling unlovable, I want love.

I mean, like, duh. Haven’t you ever heard of opposites attracting? The sick need healing, not the well. The poor need alms, not the wealthy. The nakedy need clothes not the Emperor. Okay, he actually does, but you get my drift.

I am a bead. What, that’s rather disjointing, you say? An article in the newspaper once defined a bead as “anything with a hole in it.”

I have a hole in me.

This hole has inspired me to fill it in. Years ago, it began as a leak in my pocketbook. I sought two different financial counselors and when they groomed my expenditures with a fine-teethed comb, neither discovered a single penny of unnecessary outgo. I did not have what the money gurus labeled “the latte factor.”

Their analysis? I needed to increase my income. Gee, thanks, I already knew that. But it seemed that no matter what I did, no matter how frugal I became, tightened the belt, lived on a shoestring, there never was enough to cover basic expenses.

So I set my course on a journey to discover a remedy. I went on a reading rampage. I checked out every book on money, wealth, and increasing one’s income the library had on its shelves.

And boy, was I disappointed. These books hooked me in with their titles about creating what I needed, yet none of them actually gave me the secret to prosperity. I wanted to know how to get rich quick and all those stupid books did was ramble on about how money was energy and how we have to change our awareness and-- next. I kept reading, one right after the other, hoping that the next book would actually tell me something useful, but they all said the same thing, that I should meditate, get quiet and go within and observe my thoughts. %#$@&*(*&!!!

I didn’t give a flippertyjibbit about my thoughts, my energy field, my vibrational offering for crying out loud, I just wanted quick and easy steps to take so I could become more than a hundred-aire. I wanted clear and precise actions that would give me an extra zero or two on the correct side of my balance sheet.

I’ve heard of slow learners and in this area, I think the guides of heaven had to create a new sub-category of emotional retardation just for me. It has taken me years and years to finally open my mind to what the masters have been saying.

We get what we focus on, that which we appreciate, appreciates. We live in an electromagnetic universe and one of the laws of physics governing our physical reality is “like attracts like,” or “that which is like unto itself is drawn.” Paper attracts ink, a magnet attracts little metal things and trailer parks attract tornadoes. Just your basic facts of life stuff.

I resisted this for a looooooooong time (for a more accurate picture, keeping adding more o’s to the word “long,” no keep going, a few more, almost there…). Bottom line is that I wanted, needed, desired more money. I could not wrap my head around the idea that I had to start feeling and becoming prosperous to attract prosperity.

If I was reading the words right, poverty consciousness attracts MORE poverty and prosperity consciousness attracts MORE prosperity. Okay, but sputter sputter... It’s the folks who are feeling poor that need more prosperity!!!! Isn’t anybody listening?

Oops, apparently I wasn’t listening, or couldn’t understand this simple, yet profound concept.

Let’s skip ahead, shall we? A gentleman recently surprised us with a book and several downloads of a particular author he wanted us to check out. Not understanding we were supposed to read the book first, we listened to the audio files.

Oh my.

Groom and I have a fairly broad spectrum of things we are interested in, but this was a giant step out of our comfort zone.

The info on the mp3 was a guided meditation leading us up through the “10 Dimensions of Heaven.” There were things on each floor we were to see, do, clear out and receive in order to ascend to the next level.

At one point, I asked Groom if this was like a spiritual video game or a version of dungeons and dragons? In the Fourth Dimension of Heaven we were given a cloak so that we could conduct our business without being seen and in the Fifth Dimension of Heaven we were to receive a spiritual gift, perhaps a harp or a jewel-encrusted staff.

My apologies to the gentleman who sent us this stuff, but we couldn’t help giggling. Throughout the next couple of days, we’d tease each other. Groom would say, “I can see you,” and I would answer, “No you can’t, I’m invisible, can’t you see that I’m wearing my cloak?” Or, “Watch out, I’ll pop you with my jewel encrusted staff if you don’t do exactly as I say.”

Two days later, on Saturday after the Market, we took our daily perambulation around the neighborhood. We were drawn right instead of left by a handmade sign that said “Love Him Her It Them Us Yourself.” Love and inclusion, we were groovin’ on the sentiment.

Two people were sitting on the sidewalk and welcomed us. Stepping beyond the sign to stand underneath a canopy of trees, we saw a little bit of magic. “Did you notice our money tree?” they asked, pointing up. Sure enough, there were many dollar bills hanging from the branches.

Just then, a third person popped up and said in a very lovely and theatrical voice, “Welcome. You have made it to the Fifth Dimension of Heaven. You can see me now.”

Say what? You’ve got to be freakin’ kidding me.

I looked at Groom and Groom was already staring at me to confirm we each just heard what we thought we heard. I felt my head soften into a cartoon, becoming all rubbery as I pretend shook it from side to side, jowls and saliva swinging in slow-mo like a basset hound as I mentally cleared any possible cobwebs.

Did he just say the Fifth Dimension of Heaven? I glance around. A red carpet rolled out before us, silver, gold and copper coins piled high and thick and generously all over the place.

The man “who we could now see,” disappeared (he bee-bopped into the house for a minute) and the two people sitting on the sidewalk offered us coins from the ground and suggested we toss them into a red bowl filled with water. We were instructed to gather up all of our fears and send them into the water along with the coins. As we did this, they clapped simultaneously and shouted “NO FEAR!”

Trying to take in the scene and get a grip that we had just listened to a meditation describing the Fifth Dimension of Heaven and less than 48 hours later we walked into somebody’s little play about it, well, it was trippy!

These three people put effort into creating a sacred space. There were candles burning, incense wafting, fruit in colorful bowls and a toy dinosaur wearing booties amongst many other curious artifacts.

The third man, who had announced our arrival, reappeared and was holding, can you guess? A jewel-encrusted staff! He said something very special to us (Yeah, I think I’ll keep that part private) and then he touched us on each shoulder with the jewel-encrusted staff, much like a monarch dubbing a knight.

We were standing on a red carpet of money with dollar bills dripping overhead. In addition to the fabulous playfulness and the Technicolor alignment, there was a joyful lesson to be learned.

Turns out the two people sitting on the sidewalk, well, their “van broke down in the Third Dimension.” If you did not just laugh, there’s something wrong. Instead of whining, complaining or freaking out, they took what they had and created something enchanting out of it.

Instead of hording their last bit of cash, they rolled out the red carpet and let it loose. They tied dollar bills to the tree. In other words, they became what they wanted to attract. It worked. Groom and I were so delighted by this spectacle that we asked if we could tie some money to their tree. They asked for nothing, they just were.

All this week, I’ve been drawn back there. I’ve seen them continuing to sit outside, soaking in the late summer weather, sipping wine and visiting with passersby. On one evening stroll, I said to the man who had “knighted” us, “Hello, I can see you now.”

The look on his face was priceless. He said, “I’m so glad, I like to be seen.”

Again, he had an inner need to be visible, but instead of becoming obnoxious to get attention, he gave a gift. He created the feeling that seeing him was an honor, that one had to shift into another state of consciousness to be able to see him.

It worked. I noticed him. I remember him. He became visible.

When we have a need, we all become something in order to get that need met. Perhaps we become angry, petulant, sick, demanding, fearful; we all have our modus operandi. Since we’re going to become something anyway, why not become something that is in harmony with what we desire rather than its repelling opposite?

I just have to say, this was one of the best moments of alignment and learning. George Bernard Shaw explains why it’s good to be lighthearted about things. “People don’t stop playing because they grow old. They grow old because they stop playing.”

The Queen of Hearts

This is embarrassing. For those of you who have been reading along (and thank you by the way, for the lovely feedback), you’ll remember that I spent all last week at the beach. Everything about the trip was ideal. No, I take that back. The time careened so wildly, that to remain truthful, I’d swear I was only gone for a day. The morning after I returned, the vacation felt like a beautiful dream, sweet but brief.

That’s not the embarrassing part. Oh, I don’t really want to tell you. No, I shouldn’t have brought it up, never mind. Okay, fine, I will.

The trip was bliss. The sweeping view of the ocean afforded by the house, the expanse of blue skies, mouth-watering food, the weather warm enough to sit nake- oops, I mean sit outside without, oh, you know, hats and gloves and stuff. Anyway, never you mind. The point is every single detail about the vacation was perfect.

And yet…

I managed to find something to crab about. Oh, why did you make me say it?

I mean, for crying out loud, when a chill came, there was a beautifully built fire in the wood stove. First thing I saw in the morning was the moon taking a bath in the ocean. I have the best companion. We cozily sipped coffee, nibbled on pumpkin bread, read interesting books, combed the beach, didn’t have a care in the world, but I still invented something to grouse about.

About what, you ask? About freakin’ nothing, that’s what. Okay, it was about something, but nothing is by far the better answer.

I allowed my mellow mood to shift into stormy seas over a card game. Yes, a stupid, meaningless bad hand or two, or nineteen. And before you psychoanalyze the whole affair, there wasn’t anything underlying it. No hidden emotions or agenda. That’s what is so embarrassing. I’d love to give you all sorts of reasons why I allowed a few kings, queens and jokers to pin me to the floor and give me a good thrashing, but that’s just it, the card game was the reason.

No, I am not a gambler. I’ve been to Las Vegas and Monte Carlo and have had the opportunity to see if I am. I’m not. Neither am I particularly athletic. Okay, not at all, so sports don’t get me all crazy wound up, and I’m a semi-gracious board game player, so I don’t become all in-your-face competitive.

It’s the ding dang cards. Once in awhile, when I play, I feel like I’m inflicted with a fever, channeling some beastly intoxicated gunslinger from the west of yester-yore. Simply put, I’m a sorry sport when it comes to the pasteboards, they just don’t suit me. I’ve been known to throw a tanty, sprinkled with a few choice words, as I fling the Bicycles to the floor. Yes, I realize I am not painting a very flattering portrait of my card playing self, but it’s not my proudest moment.

I’m supposed to be enlightened, growing, self-actualizing. What’s the deal?

On my last day, when the week sped by in five minutes, I snapped out of my card-coma and asked myself why I didn’t choose to meditate on the beach, or acknowledge the wonderful God-given beauty and offer up gratitude, or tap into the revitalizing energy of the place and visualize a few dreams?

Why didn’t I play with the ideal conditions that I had immediate access to and build upon them, continuing the creative cycle? Instead, I lowered my vibrational offering by getting into a ridiculous snit over a game and had to see the disappointment on Companion’s face and feel the onslaught of nasty chemicals circling my heart.

As I continue to ask questions, I’m gifted with possible answers. The one that landed ker-plunk into my energy system, made my face feel warm. Again, kind of embarrassing. I was shown how my happiness is rather situationally dependent. If the outer conditions in my world are in order, then I tend to be much happier. Because my snarky emotions are convincing, demanding a perfect environment, I’m often in pursuit of external soothing.

The term “control freak” might have been tossed in my direction once or twice, but one person astutely observed, “You seem to be far more interested in controlling your environment than other people.” Yep, I’m always looking for the outer circumstances to be neat, tidy and calm.

And this week I had a taste of my dream. There was not one thing to complain about. A slice of heaven everywhere I turned. No problems at home, no problems brewing with Companion, a week of insular perfection. And I still managed to create one. Those stupid stupid cards.

The lesson for me was humbling. I was blessed with the experience of having everything in my outer world finally reflect perfection and yet, I still found something to whinge about. The issue was coming from me and only me. I had to face that I was the source of my unhappiness. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky to blame it on. Not a single blemish in my 7-day realm to accuse. The discord was all from me.

Why is it easier to slip into negative thinking, even in the midst of perfection? Of course, as soon as I formed the question, I read this paragraph in Shogun by James Clavell on page 98.

“As she waited patiently, she forced herself to think of pleasant things. ‘Always remember, child,’ her first teacher had impressed on her, ‘that to think bad thoughts is really the easiest thing in the world. If you leave your mind to itself it will spiral you down into ever-increasing unhappiness. To think good thoughts, however, requires effort. This is one of the things that discipline—training—is all about.’”

Yes, before you ask, I have tried meditation. In fact, I attempt it almost every morning. I sit in the lotus position, or maybe it’s the dandelion, and close my eyes, paying attention to my breath. Inhale, exhale, aaaah.

And then my mind starts wiggling and dancing and bouncing off the walls like a jumping bean. I’d say “Mexican,” but perhaps the brincador has no country of origin and that might be considered profiling or even racist. Yet is stripping the hopper of its identity any more dignified and acceptable? Okay, do you see where my mind races off to? Oh yeah, I was meditating.

Breathe in, breathe out. Uh-oh, my nose itches. Alrighty Almighty, how long have I been sitting here with my eyes closed? (One eye opens and sneaks a peek at the clock). Two minutes, that’s it? Back to breathing. This is torture. It feels like when I was four and made to take naps that I didn’t want. Worse than that, it feels like I’m being forced to sit in the corner for a time out.

At this point in my journey, meditation is simply an opportunity for my mind to take inventory of its grievances, to meander the hushed museum of grudge antiquities, to polish my trophies in the rejection Hall of Fame.

Do you suppose I could check my emails, fold some laundry and do a few other tasks I need to complete while meditating without Companion noticing?

I don’t really have an ending, and no, I still don’t know why I continued to play hand after hand of the cards. Okay, go on ahead, psychoanalyze away.