You Have to Ask

Andrea Chilcoteby Andrea Chilcote

I was standing on a ledge just wide enough to clear the length of my feet. It had those wrought iron bars you might find around a window box, and they stopped midpoint between my ankles and knees.

Perched many stories high with my back against the brick of the building, I cautiously looked down to the right, then to the left. There was only a thin strip of concrete on either side of my perch, and nothing to hold onto. No windows to escape into. I held my breath as I realized there was no way down.

Back to center, I straightened my head and thought hard. There was vague realization in the recesses of my consciousness: “This isn’t really happening. It’s just a dream.” Yet I couldn’t force my mind to wake.

“Pray!” The thought came to me clearly and just as I formed the words, “please help me,” my tiny platform began to descend. It was as if it had suddenly attached itself to a hydraulic lift and I was descending rapidly, feet firmly planted.

I hit the ground with a soft thud, exhaled and whispered “Thank you.” And then added: “A little slower next time, but really, thank you.”

Ask and you shall receive.

I can recite the verse, yet one difficult day (or year) can cause me to lose faith. And it seems that just about the time I begin to doubt, I get a powerful reminder. With my waking mind out of the way, I’m able to connect with the part of me that knows I’m always safe.

Several years ago I had a different but vivid dream that confirmed the same. I wrote about it in my post What Is Your Anchor? The lesson then and still today is to confront my fears, but not allow them to consume me. One of those simple messages, but not one that’s always easy to hear.

My belief is that the part of me that creates these dreams is the part I can and should trust. My waking mind is useful, but it sure can cloud the truth. In my dream state, I assessed a dangerous situation, saw that my human capability was of no use, and called upon the superpowers.

Let’s see if I can remember that lesson over the next few days. How about you?

A Happy Visit

I gave the incident little more thought – until that afternoon…

Arthur's beloved rescue horse Duke, a victim of tripping, passed away over year ago. That evening, Arthur said Duke had joined the great white horse in the sky. For Christmas, I asked local artist and friend Jan Taylor to create a memory.

Arthur’s beloved rescue horse Duke, a victim of tripping, passed away over year ago. That evening, Arthur said Duke had joined the great white horse in the sky. For Christmas this year, I asked local artist and friend Jan Taylor to create a memory.

by Andrea Chilcote

Did you have any unexpected visitors this holiday week? We did.

One night last week I was away in Atlanta on business, looking forward to going home the next day to enjoy the Christmas weekend. After I had gone to bed but was not yet fully asleep, I heard the “ding” of a text message. I had spoken a “good night” to my husband Arthur so I knew all was well at home, but I rose anyway and checked my phone.

There I found a photo of Arthur’s beloved horse Duke, who had passed away in August. The message, from Arthur, said: “Why did you send this to me??” (Two question marks).

I quickly replied that I had not sent it, that I had nearly been asleep, and wished to resume that state. He texted back.

“Well, I can see that you texted this photo! It came from you.” He persisted.

“It’s a mystery then,” I replied. “I’ll have a look when I get there tomorrow.” Arthur is not the most tech savvy person, and I assumed he somehow texted himself that photo from those in his phone. The fact that I had never seen that shot before was a bit mysterious, but I assumed all would make sense by the light of day.

When I arrived home the next evening, I asked to see the original text. Arthur told me, disappointed, that it had disappeared on its own. Thinking he had deleted it, I checked my own phone. Mine had vanished too! Yet I had seen the image he forwarded with my own eyes the night before.

I gave the incident little more thought – until that afternoon. I was sitting at my desk when Arthur ran down the hall. “Andrea, look!” he shouted. “Roxy just texted me the same photo!” I looked at his phone, and sure enough he had a text from Roxy, the loving woman who helps him care for the horses. She was at the barn, so I immediately walked there with Arthur’s phone in hand.

“Did you just send Arthur a text?” I asked, calmly. “No,” Roxy replied. “Why?”

I showed her the text, from her. Wide eyed, she pulled out her phone. “I don’t even have that picture,” she said. To be sure, she checked her sent texts (none) and her photos of the horses. None matched that shot.

I returned to the house, one part shaken and one part excited. How had this happened? Was there a tangible explanation, or – had Duke found a way (using sophisticated technology mind you) to say hello from the other side?

If you knew Duke, you will reconnect with his spirit when you look in those eyes.

If you knew Duke, you will reconnect with his spirit when you look in those eyes. –Arthur Chilcote with Duke, Christmas 2013.

Duke was a very special rescue horse. A victim of the cruel sport of “tripping,” he came to our safe haven with many physical and emotional scars. His body was aged and broken, but his spirit was strong. In the three years he was with us, he grew to trust humans and genuinely loved his main caregiver, Arthur. Our veterinarian marveled at his resilience, and shared our sadness when at last his body gave up at the end of the summer.

There’s one thing I know for sure, with every morsel of my being: There is no such thing as death. The humans we love who have passed from this earth, as well as our precious animal companions, can and do watch over us, connect with our spirits and send us their light. So then why should I find it remarkable that Duke, who had an extraordinary bond to our family, paid us a visit? I’ve pondered that question a lot over the past few days.

Where I’ve landed is this. The energy of surprise and wonderment was Duke’s Christmas gift. While we have faith in the great mystery of the eternal soul, it helps to have a tangible reminder once in a while. A perfect gift, a happy visit.

—This post appeared originally last-year December on The Spirited Woman where  Andrea is a weekly blogger.

Faith

by Andrea Chilcote

The following post appeared originally on The Spirited Woman where Andrea is a weekly blogger. 

I often write about “ease,” and the preponderance of everyday miracles. And I have written many times of the power that managing our thoughts and feelings has on the outcomes we achieve. I strive to walk my talk, and on some days I’m more successful at doing so than on others. Putting forth the effort and energy to maintain the resonance of what we desire, vs. dwelling on what appears to be a negative circumstance takes focus – and faith. Here’s a short story for illustration.

I own and operate a very small business. A few weeks ago, an employee of 15 years resigned to pursue an offer that utilizes her many years of experience, and at the same time allows her to do new things in an area that is important in her life. I was and am truly happy for her, and yet my first thought was a very emphatic “Yikes!”  Her work here is mission critical, and we are (as is true most of the time) in the middle of a critical project. And the role requires a unique skill set.

On the morning she gave notice three weeks ago, I was immediately aware that I had a choice. I could allow myself to feel stress, and thus create a stressful condition. Or I could view the situation as one more opportunity to see and seek the opening door vs. dwell on the one that was closing. I chose the former.

Armed with a positive vision, I went into motion. I sent a brief description of the role to several trusted friends, and began making a plan for transition activities. Even though I was busy without this added task, time seemed to expand to allow for it all.

As I write this post, I sit across the room from my new employee who is spending her first day with me. She was the first to inquire about the job, and the only person I interviewed. Seemingly out of nowhere, the apparent perfect person materialized.

Since the day she magically appeared, I have had moments in which I’ve second guessed the synchronicity. But I’ve managed to banish those thoughts as my very real due diligence (interviews, references and skill assessments) has proven, once again, that it doesn’t have to be hard to be right.

If there is a burden you bear at this moment, you know intellectually that your thoughts and feelings about it are conspiring to determine the outcome. Shifting the energy that you carry requires discipline. It also requires faith. Faith is the burden-carrier, releasing the mind from over-analysis and fueling the effort required to take right action. Let it go, and watch what happens next.

A Time for Every Purpose

 

by Andrea Chilcote

 

The following post appeared originally on The Spirited Woman where Andrea is a weekly blogger. This summer, followers of this blog will enjoy bi-weekly archived posts that have appeared on The Spirited Woman but never before on this site. 

Invigorated by an idyllic beach walk with my beloved dogs, wind in my face, the refrain of an old song was playing in my head. “Turn, Turn Turn,” made popular by The Byrds in the 60’s, is based on the book of Ecclesiastes:

To everything
There is a season
And a time to every purpose under heaven

As we laughed and played in the California surf and sand, I felt pure joy. Then, suddenly, I remembered the pain a friend in Arizona is experiencing as she grieves the loss of a dear companion. Once again I was reminded of the seeming contradictions in this experience of life, and our ability to ride the waves of change with resilience and grace. Our beach dance was a reminder to keep the faith.

A time to dance, a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones, a time to gather stones together

Intrigued by the power these words had over me, I did a bit of research and learned that the songwriter, Pete Seeger, is still alive today at age 93, singing and giving interviews to convey his enduring message of hope for our world. On Monday of this week he had a studio audience singing along to “Quite Early Morning,” a song he wrote in 1969 to “inspire people to keep the faith that a better world is possible, even in the midst of suffering, tragedy, and setbacks.”

Don’t you know it’s darkest before the dawn
And it’s this thought keeps me moving on
“Quite Early Morning” by Pete Seeger

Whether at this moment you dance or mourn, it is yours to either embrace or resist. At least for today, I’m choosing to dance.