Printed in the Conscious Creation Journal
December 1999 – January 2000, Issue 9
Walking with George, Part Two
by Ted Mousseau
Most days, George and I go for a walk. Our walk usually takes us along a body of water. It’s difficult to say whether the water is a lake or a river, as it is just about the point where Lake Erie turns into the Niagara River, then accelerates northward towards the Falls. It is akin to walking along the edge of a vortex of energy, the same energy that permeates all physical and non-physical realities. As we amble along, we notice that the things we discuss tend to manifest themselves physically
in some form or other. It’s that kind of place. As we are reflecting, we often notice various reflections in the water, and in the windows of the buildings of Buffalo, across the way.
I have retired from a career in aviation, and George from meteorology. My working life has been devoted to travel, and George’s to observation. We are both long-time readers of the Seth/Jane Roberts material. I think it would be fair to say that our musings tend to be colored with those perspectives.
We invite you to join us in our walking meditations.
(This is Part II – to read the first “Walking with George” article, click HERE.)
#11 – September 5, 1999
Today is cloudy and close; late summer with a twist of fall. Walking along the lakefront path, we observe a spider heading in the opposite direction. We stop. The spider approaches the toe of my shoe. She stops. Possessing neither ego nor intellect, is she also overcome with curiosity? Does she experience fear, or panic? We continue on our walk, passing two ladies, who subsequently encounter the little spider. ‘Eeek’, shrieks one of the ladies. What fears of her own does she
project onto the spider?
Joy and pain. Do we attract pain into our awareness for the purpose of spiritual gain, or as a contrast with joy, or for the sake of the experience itself? As she strolls the walkway, is our spider friend thinking furiously, or simply experiencing?
#12 – September 7,1999
Leaving George and Jan’s house, we wonder if, one of these days, we will
run out of things to discuss on our walks. ‘Unlikely’, we conclude. We trundle along, yapping as merrily as Bernie, their little dog.
It is a quiet day, damp, cooler, with a low ceiling. ‘Three hundred feet’, intones George sagely. There are few others along our route this morning. We too fall quiet. The only sounds we hear are one raucous seagull, and the consistent slosh, slosh, of George’s wet shoes.
Sometimes, it is not necessary to say anything.
#13 – September 8, 1999
George’s car is in the shop. Thus, we find ourselves in yet another part of our little town . Alfred Street starts at Garrison Road, Ft. Erie’s busiest street, but promptly turns itself into a country lane, a mile or more in length. The foliage here is more natural, more at peace with itself, than that of more residential streets, and is now commencing it’s own journey toward winter. The road disappears into the morning mist and once again, we catch a glimpse of a neighboring dimension. Starting at the car dealerships and bingo halls, we walk to the outskirts of Brigadoon.
Having rediscovered our love affair with spontaneity, we have occasionally forgotten to include others in our constantly changing plans. This morning, we remind ourselves to take of note the perspectives of others, even in the midst of our child-like enthusiasms.
#14 – September 9, 1999
This cloudy, gloomy day soon yields itself to rain. The seagulls hunker down, perched and preening on the seawall. Initially damp, George and I eventually achieve wetness.
Each of us is a unique rendition of the universe in self-expression. We are spiritual creatures seeking physical experience. We are intrigued, even fascinated, by pain, suffering and death. Physical reality is one of the few in which these concepts are experienced. Love and joy, on the other hand, are common to all realities. That is my belief.
#15 – September 10, 1999
A day that sparkles; a cleansing shower followed by bright sunshine. The geese, dozens of them, sun themselves in the park. They stare surreptitiously as we proceed along the walkway, deftly circumnavigating their deposits. Who is observing whom?
No other person can harm us, unless we allow it. Until we are fully accepting of ourselves, we may often find ourselves slighted by others.
#16 – September 14, 1999
Today, George and I pour ourselves into my car, Old Yeller, and head for Toronto. We dawdle along the back roads, enjoying the sun-drenched Ontario countryside. The stated purpose of our journey is to initiate plans at work for my retirement. Our real mission, though, is to find a specific variety of evergreen seedling. The second objective is proof enough, I suppose, of my readiness to join George in that hallowed state.
Along the way, we visit a boy scout camp, the venue for a gathering of some friends next month. At the entrance to the camp, we are greeted nonchalantly by a mangy, emaciated fox. ‘An auspicious omen’, we agree. Later, while searching a garden nursery for our little tree, George stumbles upon the exact pump he has been seeking for the pond in his now-well-past-the-design stage new garden.
If we but allow it, the fruits of universal energy present themselves to us in just the right time, in just the right way.
#17 – September 15, 1999
We careen out of George’s driveway toward the lake, and yet another bright fall day. Is there anything more relentless than two middle-aged guys on a mission?
Cruising along the seawall, we notice what appears to be a shed snake skin. Fear manifests itself in many ways, with snakes and spiders being popular recipients thereof. Unless we are accepting of ourselves, we will always find something to fear, for it is of our own making. If our strongest fear is death, and we do not die, what then is there to fear?
It wasn’t a snake skin after all.
#18 – September 23, 1999
He who knows not, knows;
He who knows, knows not;
Seek the unknown,
Query the known.
#19 – September 24, 1999
Soon after we make the turn onto Lakeshore Drive this breezy morning, a black and white kitten rockets across our path, intent on attracting our attention. When we return, the little cat follows us to George and Jan’s house. Disoriented, he commences a mournful mewling, whereupon he is invited to visit with us on the screened porch. He plays happily for a while, then munches contentedly on the type of treat only a cat could love. On his collar, there is a little capsule containing
his name and address. Kiki lives at 474 Lakeshore.
The kitten has followed us into unfamiliar territory, entering a probability previously unknown to him. There, he has found some uncertainty, and some joy. Apparently, these things aren’t always black or white.
#20 – September 26, 1999
We say hello to Kiki, this morning. Wisely, he decides against following us. We are greeted only by one or two grey caterpillars, boldly inching their way along the seawalk.
The outer ego and linear time are secondary conditions, particular to our everyday physical reality. On the other hand, primary conditions, such as our inner identity and simultaneous time, are common to all realities.
Thus, in the dream universe, our inner ego may playfully explore the experiences of our outer ego at its leisure.
… the road continues …
(c)1999, Ted Mousseau. Published in the December 1999 – January 2000 Issue of the Conscious Creation Journal. Feel free to copy this article for personal use only. Please include this copyright notice. http://www.consciouscreation.com/
Ted Mousseau considers himself a traveler. As an airline pilot, he flew more than three decades, primarily on international routes for Canadian Pacific and Canadian Airlines. Now retired, his time is devoted to writing, with emphasis on the metaphysical. He and his wife Carol reside in Ft. Erie, Ontario, Canada.They are both directors for Jane’s Heirs, a corporation devoted to the dissemination of the Seth/Jane Roberts material. Their web page is: http://member.forterie.com/janesheirs.