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Creating Bridges: Spirituality & Philosophy:
The Conscious Column
Come Down
From the Tree
by David Ault |
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As the motorcade for my sister Becky's funeral made its way toward the grave site ceremony, it hadn't occurred to me that we would actually travel through my childhood neighborhood. The procession of cars, traveling by way of the main thoroughfare through Beaumont, Texas intersected the very road where I lived and played as a boy - Abilene Ave.
Creeping along, escorted by dual motorcycle cops, our speed was such that I could get a good, long look at the house, the street, and the yard where I grew up. Still thriving at the edge of the lawn by the ditch was the mimosa tree. That tree, with its bountiful pink blossoms, the one my mother kept threatening to have cut down because of the mess it made of the yard, that glorious tree was my haven. The way mimosa trees grow, the branches arch up and grow out, leaving hollow pockets in which a boy can hide from the world. In this elevated sanctuary of limbs and dense green foliage, I could pretend that the abuse and the yelling in the flat-topped house below belonged to another family.
I turned, staring out the rear window of the hearse, trying to keep the tree in my field of vision for as long as possible. Everyone riding with me assumed I was looking at our old house, but my eyes held fast to the tree until finally, it disappeared from sight. Disappeared visually perhaps, but the door of my mind was now flung open to some of the most vivid memories and private moments of my life.
Every summer, the Tyrell Public Library had a contest for the student who read the most books during school break. And, in September, in front of a new teacher, a representative from the library would come and personally give out certificates with shiny gold foiled emblems pasted on. I was the lucky recipient several times, but I would have been just as pleased to give the library an award. Their opened doors ushered me into a world of words that became my salvation.
I developed a fondness for biographies and worked my way through a particular group designed for young readers.So, with the stories of Abraham Lincoln, Walt Disney, Abner Doubleday, Harriet Tubman or George Washington Carver among others, tucked under my arm, I'd climb the trunk of that mimosa tree and settle in. The branches draped and sheltered me from the world as I became transported into theirs. My reading, mixed with daydreams and wanderlust, made me wonder if my life would ever evolve into anything as significant as the life stories I held in my hands.
Somewhere around the age of eight, I calculated how many years were left before I could legally leave home and placed corresponding thumbtacks for each of those years into the bark of the mimosa. It was an act signifying my Marco Polo phase. Just as the famous Venetian explorer left markers to help him navigate, I fashioned my thumbtacks in the shape of an arrow, pointing me toward an illusive future. The little metal dots were my visual to hang in there, believing my time would come. It was vital to preserve my instinct to explore. The stories I read encouraged the desire for trail-blazing, and I was destined to move far beyond those branches, this town. Every birthday, I'd take a penny or dime and pry out one of the now rusted thumbtacks, imagining the day when that makeshift arrow was reduced to one tiny dot on a map of bark. Next to it, I would carve the phrase "you were here," appreciating the significance of the past tense.
The beautiful thing of reading about the lives of those famous people was the spark of recognition that occurred. Up in that tree, I often thought, "If they can do it, so can I." If these inventors, statesmen, geniuses, and freedom fighters could move over every conceivable hurdle, then why not me?
That sense of "why not me" made my heart swell with possibilities. No obstacle seemed too great. I was willing to invest my hope in the freedom of the mystery. But, at the end of the day, I'd have to climb down from those branches and enter the homefront ambush. My oldest brother, irrepressibly and psychologically damaged by our father's death, displayed an uncontrollable rage. He threatened and chased the rest of us; the supposed safety of a closed door shattered by the force of his fist splintering the thin wood. Our faces were often smashed into the earth and sod with an order from him to "eat grass." And once, because age and size were on his side, he had lifted me above his head and hurled me into a wall. I bit my tongue so deep on impact that stitches seemed the only thing holding it together. It was not a good time.
Down on the ground, away from my protective tree, I longed to twitch my nose and disappear like Samantha, on the television show Bewitched. But, there seemed nowhere to go. My heart began flip-flopping from the inspiration of "why not me" to the desolate resolve of "why me."
How many of us still live in that "why me" mentality even after we're long removed from the physical situations that birthed it? "Why me's" are like barnacles, clinging to the walls of our sunken belief systems - parasitic memories eating at us and blocking the progression of living with infinite possibility. Yet, many of us forget that their presence is optional. We simply accept the burdensome weight of their energy as an unavoidable travel companion. "Why me's" create that frequent sense of futility and help formulate the mantra that "this is as good as it gets."
It's easy to spot a "why me" belief system in operation. For starters, it feeds and supports a personal manifesto that reads, "Because of the mistakes of my past, I am destined for failure. There is no escape." It stirs up stale excuses - ingredients in a vast soup pot we call our mismanaged lives. Unconsciously, we serve these thoughts to the world as representative of who we are. Is it really any great wonder, then, that the self-fulfilling prophecy kicks in? The world spits the "why me" believer back out, eliciting sighs about no respect, no love, no demonstration.
"Why me" lets our blood relatives dictate our choices long after we've left their physical presence. "Why me" operators also get the most upset when others exhibit any kind of deepening or growth. That in-your-face expansion threatens their status quo. They are the ones who will complain about their situation, their health, their job, their marriage, and their finances, yet will slam the door shut when growth opportunities appear.
I once counseled a young man who struggled with acquiring and maintaining a job. His dyslexia created terror within him whenever it came time to fill out a job application. He didn't have the money to purchase a car and depended on his grandmother for transportation. He rarely took the time to groom or bathe himself. His nearly undetectable self-esteem would rise and fall according to whether or not this one particular girl he had met online responded to him.
His one solution for happiness, to have this girl, who lived clear across the country, agree to come and set up house. To him, it was not unusual that he had no job, no developed skills, no place to call his own, that he had created a false profile for his cyber love - if she showed up at his door, then life would be worth living.
I explained the power of integrity and gave the you can't live on love alone counsel, relaying the ethical options of supporting ones self before ever attempting to support a relationship.
However, my heart went out to him. His desperate need for acceptance and love was clouding his choices in building a solid foundation for his life. I offered to work with him for free, create a resume targeting his strengths, and make phone calls to potential employers.But, it was all too threatening. He didn't want to let go of the "life is hard" synopsis scripted by "why me." After the offers, I never saw him again. Now the humbling part - every time I observe that behavior in another, I have to wake up to the sobering fact that I'm looking in a mirror, that there is still a bit of "why me" within myself.
Ernest Holmes, author and founder of Religious Science wrote, "This original life is infinite. It is good. It is filled with peace. It is of the essence of purity. It is the ultimate of intelligence. It is power. It is Law. It is Life. It is in us. In that inner sanctuary of our nature, hidden perhaps from objective gaze, nestles the seed, perfection."
The world continues to wait patiently for our big idea to merge with that sense of perfection. Combining these two creates the ripple of positive change that spreads throughout our life and the world.
In Religious Science teaching, we often toss around the phrase "principle is not bound by precedent." Simply put, your past does not define who you are. Your diagnosis does not shut the door to the possibility for wholeness, for you are far greater than the limitations dictated within the framework of your physical body. Your history of disappointing relationships does not govern or deny your right to deserve love and compassion. Your financial challenge is not representative of a greater life force at work against you. All these familiar limitations are like birds in a doorless cage. Giving up the "why me" energy illuminates the exit sign and points us to freedom. But, walking around, whispering, repeating and giving energy to the belief in "why me" circumvents any substantial growth in these areas. It muddies our conscious windshield and distorts the truth of what lies ahead. "Why me" equals playing small. "Why not me" joins with the unlimited possibilities that help guide us to our power and purpose.
As we enter into a new year, embracing the possible seems the greatest of resolutions. When you see success around you, look at the beauty of it, the intricate detail in which it was brought to form and bless it. As you bless it, say to yourself, "why not me?" Why not invite in the same ingredients for the success you observe into your own experience? When you see optimum health, look at that wholeness and vibrancy and repeat, "why not me." That experience is your birthright.
When you notice couples holding hands or observe the kind of affection you secretly long for, do you roll your eyes in judgment, yet ache inside for the same? If so, try repeating "why not me" at each observation of connubial bliss. For every moment you choose a "why not me" experience, you break away from your limited history or negative family influence. What you do with that experience determines the gifts you get from the Universe.
Vibrating with a "why not me" mantra restores us to the purity of eagerness, that eagerness that thrived before the intervening disappointments watered down its potency.
I opted to fly on an economy airline to Salt Lake City recently. You know the one, no first class, no meals just pretzels and a first-come-first-served seating arrangement. So, you can imagine my surprise, after taking my place on an aisle seat, to look across and see Dick Clark in the aisle seat across from me. Next to him sat his wife. When our eyes met, he smiled that uncomfortable, acknowledging smile that seemed to say, "Hello, I see you there, but please don't engage me in conversation. Let me fly in peace."
I could respect that. The young woman next to me, however, could not. Her youth was accented with a midriff top that showed her perfectly flat stomach with the accompanying belly button piercing. Her blond highlights were symmetrically running through her already blonde hair and she topped off the look with perfect nails and big platform shoes. Everything seemed to call out - actress.
Our young passenger saw Mr. Clark at the same time I did and let out a semi contained gasp. She began to fidget in her seat, asking those around us if they had anything to write on. Unsuccessful, her request turned to obtaining a pen and someone finally passed one from the row behind. She then frantically searched through the seat pocket in front of her, retrieving the nausea bag. On it, the starry-eyed actress to famous producer correspondence began. Seated so close, I couldn't help eavesdropping and reading what she was writing. She was creating an impromptu letter and resume on this nausea bag.
"You've got to be kidding me," I cynically thought. "Nothing is going to come from that. Stop wasting your time, his time, and practice some preventive restraint with your fragile hope." Wow. Where did that come from? Was some buried cynicism from an unfulfilled part of my own acting career rising up to wreak its havoc on all show biz possibilities? It was definitely time to defuse the toxic mind chatter. That's the great thing about committing to a spiritual, conscious path. I catch myself faster. Now, as I resolved to appreciate this young girl and acknowledge her eagerness, she leaned over to me and asked, "How do you spell incur?"
The question became the official "invitation" in helping and sharing her mission. I quickly retrieved my own nausea bag and began helping her compose a witty, memorable and correctly spelled letter to the famous producer. Her pure eagerness became contagious, exciting, and I found myself taking the essence of that eagerness and transforming my own experience. I was given this humorous scenario to look at how life presents us with innumerable opportunities. How quickly do we judge them as impossible based on our history? How quickly do we cancel out pursuing an opportunity for fear of looking foolish? This wonderful teacher, sitting next to me, would have none of that. She was diving headfirst into an ocean of "why not me" possibilities.
After we landed, we agreed that she should present it to him once we were walking in the terminal. Running awkwardly in her platform shoes, she gave Mr. Clark our composition. From my vantage point, I could see him graciously laugh, shake her hand and introduce her to his wife. Her mission in that moment was fulfilled. However, I was feeling strangely incomplete with the whole thing. Picking up my pace to reach them, the girl departed and I found myself in stride with this American icon. "I proofread that!" I mused, out of the corner of my mouth, causing both he and his wife to laugh even harder. I turned a corner and leaned against the airport wall, laughing myself, at the childlike exuberance I was feeling. It was another conscious turning point in committing to a deeper walk with "why not me." God bless the actress.
As safe as I felt in the branches of that mimosa tree, the years have revealed the necessity for me to come down and participate in life. Yet, just because my physical body made the journey to terra firma, the emotional parts of me remained guarded and hidden in an illusory nest high above. A number of my "why not me" beliefs were still tucked away there. Up in that tree, there was no need to conform. Down below, everything felt controlled by constant negotiation. Now, more than ever, I longed to integrate the imaginative dreams of my childhood into the neglected parts of the adult David - the areas that still felt too painful to acknowledge.
Sometime before my teens, I abandoned the conviction in the dreams that had whispered to me from the pages of those autobiographies. My immediate world seemed to say, "Forget about it," and at times, I felt tempted to do so. Yet, the Lincoln's and Tubman's of the world had not forgotten, and so I would not allow myself to fully disengage from all hope.
In my adult years, the irony was that I went about creating opportunities for myself with almost reckless abandon - advancing my education, writing and producing my own material as an actor, writing and producing my own music. I could never sit around and wait for something to happen. I had to get in there and create it for myself. Although this approach does not seem to fit the profile of someone emotionally clinging to memories in a tree, I could objectively see that in all those endeavors, I believed in the struggle. I appeared to be a "why not me" spirit on the outside, wearing the appropriately labeled sash for all to see, but my internal allegiance was far more compatible with the futile alternative. My convictions fell into alignment with exertion and efforting, not with the beauty of simply creating. Again, feeding the "why me" monster inside.
We must all come down from the tree. But, we are invited to bring down with us the belief in the possible and integrate it into our human experience. The world needs us to look beyond the eyes of the ambush and diffuse its influence. With enough eager hearts shouting "why not me," we can contribute to the healing of the planet on a significant scale.
I love the paradoxical commandments written by Kent Keith. This list of principles, an assignment Keith had written for a class at Harvard in the 1960's, had unknowingly made its way around the world. Some thirty years later, it graced the walls of Shishu Bhavan, the children's home in Calcutta, which was run by Mother Teresa. Of the ten timeless principles, one of my favorites reads, "The biggest men and women with the biggest ideas can be shot down by the smallest men and women with the smallest minds. Think big anyway."
The life stories that inspired me as a young boy were filled with decisions to think big in spite of overpowering odds. Thinking big anyway is synonymous with choosing a "why not me" attitude. Now, when I allow myself to objectively view the choice between the futile and the infinite, the choice becomes eagerly obvious.
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David Ault
Visionary Vocalist, Author & Motivational Speaker
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David Ault is highly regarded as one of the finest visionary vocalists and motivational speakers within the New Thought/transformational movement.
His focus on remembering the Divine within and reclaiming that connection has empowered hundreds of thousands on their spiritual journey. The union of David’s charismatic message and heartfelt singing has elevated him to guest speaker of choice in many nationwide churches and global organizations.
As a licensed minister and practitioner through Religious Science International, as well as author, songwriter/recording artist, David has traveled and shared his gifts for well over fifteen years.
Working closely with notables Louise Hay and Marianne Williamson and sharing the stage with many cherished mentors ranging from the late Og Mandino to Dr. Barbara King, Jerald Jampolsky, Elizabeth Kubler-Ross, Father Leo Booth and Mary Manin-Morrisey, David harvested that experience and developed his own unique style of teaching. His compassionate presence, warmth and humor continue to be an unforgettable guidepost for audiences as they rediscover and reawaken to their personal magnificence.
Starting out as a professional actor and singer, David worked extensively in Broadway tour shows, film and television winning critics awards in both New York and Los Angeles.
Throughout the 1980’s, David, along with the late Jerry Florence and Keith Kimberlin made their mark in New thought history by helping pioneer an unexplored musical genre—visionary vocal music. Known as Alliance, their remarkable blend became legendary, helping establish them as one of the most successful vocal groups in the Spiritual recording field.
David continues this musical path with the release of his critically acclaimed recordings, The Healing Bridge, Travelin’ With The Angels, All Is Calm, All Is Bright, And Then It Is Morning, all distributed through his Los Angeles based organization, The Conscious Company. Now, his highly anticipated literary debut, Where Regret Cannot Find Me, is heralded as “a fresh and exciting discovery in Spiritual literature ... a work of pure heart!”
“I feel extremely blessed and grateful in following this path”, says David. “It is my ongoing intention to create a message in word and music that assists us all in reawakening to our personal magnificence!”
www.davidault.com
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