Raveling

Andrea ChilcoteIn anticipation of the holiday season, we thought we would share Andrea’s ‘Raveling’ metaphor from 2013. While it’s a bit early yet, here’s a reminder to give yourself ample time to focus and reflect alongside the flurry of upcoming activities that will lead you into 2018.

by Andrea Chilcote

It was early evening on a Friday night. I replied to an email from a client, stating that I had been traveling all week and would get her what she was requesting on Monday. Shortly after hitting send, I glanced at the preview pane and noticed a typo. I had told her I had been “raveling” all week.


Raveling. Fraying. Becoming separated from the woven fabric. The truth is, I felt as if I had been slowly raveling all week, but it didn’t feel so bad. The threads of this year 2013 had been making themselves visible as lone fibers.

 

Still, the word bothered me – until I found this anonymous comment on Yahoo! answers.

“When a thread is loose, as in a novel or something complex, it’s isolated and lets you see how it works. In this case it’s good; it clarifies things. But if a loose thread leads to a tangled mess, say, in a shoelace or sweater, it complicates and confuses everything.”

I was (and still am) slowly unwinding, parsing out the priorities for the remainder of the year, looking back only to see where they fit in with the commitments that mattered, and looking ahead to determine which threads to weave and which to snip.

Oddly, that same evening my metaphor played out in an interaction with an airport store clerk. As I was hurriedly paying for my purchase, he asked: “Would you like me to clip that for you?”

“Clip what?” I replied, knowing that there were no tags attached to my water purchase.

“The string on your coat,” he said, pointing to a loose thread hanging from my sleeve.

“Sure,” I said. I handed him my arm and he neatly snipped the rogue strand of fiber.

Loose threads lead to tangled messes only when they ravel unattended. And it’s so easy to allow the many loose ends of the busy holiday season, year-end duties and 2018 plans to become a confused flurry of unfocused activities.

We have a choice. We can examine the tapestries we’ve woven and leave them to rest in their simple perfection, or snip the loose threads. We can decide what colors and fibers we’ll use to weave the art of 2018.

For me, the next two weeks will be a time of reflection, a time to ravel and examine, untangle and clarify. I’m looking forward to the peace of it. —[Originally written 20-DEC-2013]

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Release

 

Given all the flooding of late, we thought we would reflect back to August 2014 when flash floods gushed through Cave Creek, AZ. It is our hope that in a world that sometimes looks bleak, new consciousness is being revealed.

by Andrea  Chilcote

Did you hear about the rain in the Arizona desert? On Tuesday, a rapid-onset, torrential downpour wreaked havoc, as Mother Nature released a fury of energy in the form of flooding rains. It made the national news, and it made for yet another lesson in the form of a weather adventure.

On Monday of this week, I felt out of sorts. All day long. And “out of sorts” is not a usual state of being for this, um-mm, in-control sort of person. At any given time I might feel driven and productive or driven and agitated, but it’s not common for me to feel unclear, uncertain and a little bit sad. (At one point I teared up when I learned about the work anniversary of a mere acquaintance. Go figure). At the end of the day, it felt as though something was about to release – not just in me, but all around me.

The next morning, despite predictions of rain, I rose at 4:30 am to hike the dogs with my buddy Beth, before the temperatures rose. The atmosphere was heavier than I recall in 14 years of living in the desert. It was as if one could squeeze water from the air.

Beth and I cut our hike short as rain began to fall. Not long after arriving home, the deluge began, flooding the wash that crosses our road. No one was going anywhere – and I had to leave mid-morning for a flight.

Desert flash floods are so named because they seemingly come on in an instant. They also disappear quickly, as water seeps rapidly into the parched earth. So as expected, the 20 minute downpour was quickly a passing threat. But I sped up my preparations to leave, as another dark wall of rain was forming in the mountains to the north.

I don’t know if I should credit clear thinking, intuition, or luck, but we managed to leave the house, bound for the airport, just five minutes before the next enormous release in the Cave Creek area where I live.

Arthur still waiting to get through the wash and home three hours after taking me to the airport. Finally took off. Dogs and horse reportedly fine, thanks to Tracy. –Aug 19, 2014

This time, the flooding grew into rushing rapids that caused evacuations of people and animals from nearby homes. Thankfully, my family was safe and our home was spared of damage. My husband was stranded for five hours trying to cross the wash to get home, and my flight was delayed for hours. It was all a minor inconvenience compared to those who spent the night in Red Cross shelters.

Somehow, despite the stress of the day texting and emailing friends and family while traveling across the country, I breathed a sigh of relief as night came on. Release. I felt a release of pent-up energy that was both personal and shared. I slept soundly that night (albeit too short given my late arrival), knowing that the people and animals I love were safe and accounted for. I was safe too, with a renewed sense of calm.

Do you feel a release coming on? Have you recently let go of some belief or habit that no longer serves you? I have, and this week’s rain served as a symbol of its departure, grounding it in the depths of the earth where it will transform as all energy does. Judging from the fury of nature, we are undergoing collective transmutation.

The rushing water is, for me, a symbol of power. Energy is freed upon its release, and much is revealed once it has passed over. In a world that sometimes looks bleak, new consciousness is being revealed. And that realization fuels me on.

Good morning friends. Look what last night’s rain left us… –Aug 22, 2014

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Intuition’s Subtle Nudge

Andrea Chilcote, Erik's Hope This is an everyday story that’s not “important” on the surface. But I’m sharing it for one very important reason: Life’s big lessons often come to me in very subtle ways. I bet the same is true for you.

The following true story took place one year ago. It’s about trusting (or not) my intuition. It’s about how my thoughts create my reality, and how the energy of negativity and annoyance beget more of the same.

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I was actually looking forward to my hotel stay on Monday night. It turns out that the hotel my client suggested was the same one in which I stayed three years ago with my two good friends and my precious pup Kairos, when we drove him across the country at seven weeks of age. When I think of that time and trip, my sweetest memory is snuggling with him that first night together, and getting up every two hours to ride the elevator downstairs to take him outside. Returning to that special place and remembering that special trip would be a small pleasure.

When I arrived in Dallas and retrieved my rental car, I asked Siri to route me to the Embassy Suites DFW airport. I could have looked up the address on the detailed itinerary Laura always provides – but I was unaware that there happened to be two of these hotels, one north of and one south of the Dallas/Ft. Worth airport, so I didn’t bother to check it. When Siri asked me to choose from a list of several, I quickly decided on the south location. Even though my choice was quick, I felt a strange incongruence, but the address looked right. In another century (the 1980’s), I worked for the company that owned this property and I visited it frequently – so the address probably struck a chord on some level. At the same time, I lingered a second or two extra on the second location listed, as it brought a memory too – a fleeting but sweet one. Why hadn’t I checked my itinerary?

My mistake was revealed when I tried to check in, and the clerk found no reservation. I briefly entertained leaving for the correct hotel, but the clerk grudgingly offered to change my reservation. The other hotel was 11 miles away and it was after 11 pm. I stayed put, though once again I felt a subtle yet clear “no.” His haughty attitude was contagious. But why didn’t I choose peace, even if it meant driving another 11 miles?

When I reached my room, it was obvious that this was not the hotel where Kairos, Suzanne, Barbara and I stayed. The decor was dark and dreary – reflective of the “other century” when it was in its heyday. More importantly, the AC was set on 65 – and was blowing – but hot. That should have been my third clue that I was in the wrong place, but now I was even more determined to settle in and get some sleep.

The front desk manager found me a cooler but still not completely comfortable room. I shared my displeasure with him, to which he just replied, “It’s been a long day.” I unpacked and went to bed.

I don’t recall the exact dream I had, but I kept hearing an annoying sound that I tried to quiet but could not. In the dream state, I must have thought I had remedied the problem but as these kinds of dreams go, I could not. Eventually it penetrated my consciousness sufficiently enough to fully wake me. At 3:30 am, I discovered the smoke detector chirping. You’ve heard it, the sound they make when the battery needs to be replaced. Were my subtle signals getting louder?

The unit was within reach. I dragged a chair below it, climbed up and removed the battery. It kept chirping. Hotel staff came and removed the unit.

After that, it felt as though I didn’t sleep at all until my 6 am alarm, but my recollection of odd travel-style dreams confirmed I had. (I dreamed a tedious script that included plans for shower order, timing of breakfast and walking of the dogs, one that was clearly a dream but closely enough related to my actual experience that I questioned the amount of rest I had obtained).

As if all of this was not enough, I had a disturbing encounter when I went downstairs for coffee just after waking. Recalling it now, it seems surreal after the night of interrupted sleep and odd dreams. At the coffee dispenser, another hotel guest made a jaw-dropping remark (to me) about a man at the breakfast bar who he presumed was Muslim. To my disappointment, he joined me on the elevator and unbelievably, despite my dismissal, he continued bantering about his fear of the “enemy.”

After battling heavy traffic to get to my morning destination, I decided that I would go to the trouble of moving to the originally intended hotel. There was nothing inherently bad about the one I left – but its mojo and mine were surely not aligned.

Andrea and Kairos ChilcoteI had to smile as I entered my room in the second hotel – I did recall that sweet memory of a fun trip and the joy of my new pup. And I slept comfortably, without waking even once.

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While my minor travel inconveniences are unimportant in the larger scheme of things, how many subtle signals are we dismissing about the things that really matter? How many chain reactions are we igniting with our thoughts, thoughts that seem inconsequential but are far from that as they impact each next step we take?

The energy field in which we operate is objective. It does not judge the gravity of consequences. It just operates in a reliable manner. It supports our intentions – positive or negative – but we have to listen.

My friend Debbie says the inner voice gets louder and more persistent the more we allow it and give it power. I’m grateful for this subtle voice, and respectful of the awesome power of the energy my intentional thoughts create.