Tuesday, March 21, 2006

Nothing Cannot Harm You

Every morning I receive ideas that are usually previews of how my day is going to unfold. Yesterday, Robert Louis Stevenson's poem, My Shadow, came to mind.

I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.
He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;
And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.
I believe the shadow is the counterfeit version of self that mimics Reality/God every step of the way. The shadow has created his own mind which most humans share. It is this mind that makes people live in fear. The shadow is like a nightmare that can seem very real and terrifying, but it is nothing and should be treated as such.

Yesterday evening on my bus ride home I sat next to this young lady. She was speaking on her mobile phone. I caught snippets of her conversation. She talked about lying awake at night terrified for herself and her family. When she finished her conversation, I had a strong urge to speak to her. The moment I had the thought she looked at me expectantly, or so it appeared, and looked away. I asked her if she was OK. She said she was fine. I told her there was nothing for her to fear. She said she's been having recurring nightmares about her family. I told her they weren't real. I shared a dream I once had that seemed very scary but it turned out to be nothing.

Years ago while I was visiting a cousin in America, I had a nightmare where I saw one of my flatmates (house/room mate) had been stabbed. I was very close to her and thought of her as my little sister. At first I was very worried but then I thought to myself that she wasn't the type to get herself in that situation. I went back to sleep and had the same dream. I refused to believe she would be harmed in any way. The next morning I told my cousin about my dream. He suggested I phone home to check but I refused. I decided it wasn't worth thinking about. When I returned from holidays I heard my flatmate had got into a fight with her boyfriend. He pulled out a knife and was going to attack her but our other flatmates stopped him and chucked him out of the house.

I told my friend on the bus that I had refused to believe in the nightmare and my friend was fine. I told her there was nothing for her to worry about; that there's nothing but good and that her family is perfectly safe.

Last night I watched a documentary on television called The Seven Year Old Surgeon about a young genius in India.

"An only child, Akrit's parents realised that he was different when he started talking and walking at just 10 months old.

"By the time he was five, he was reading Shakespearean plays in English and begging to sit in at his local doctor's surgery so he could learn how to operate. "My parents explained that I was very clever," he recalls. "But I never felt out of the ordinary."

"When he was seven, however, Akrit performed complicated surgery on a girl in his village of Nurpur, in the Himalayan mountains."
The 12 year old boy is now studying for a bachelor of science degree. His goal is to find a cure for cancer which he believes he will achieve. The documentary followed Akrit's trip to the Imperial College in London where he met other scientists and shared his vision with them.

I believe Akrit's intention to end human suffering is very commendable. However, trying to cure cancer is the equivalent of believing your nightmare is real and afraid it will harm you. A dream, pleasant or frightening, is still a dream. It is a thought form you have built up into something when it is nothing. Some nightmares, like diseases, are being dreamed up collectively. So what if you find a cure for cancer? People are only going to dream up something else to replace it. The best solution for anyone going through the experience is to dismiss it as nothing.

Nothing cannot harm anyone.

With love,
Enocia

My Shadow
Robert Louis Stevenson

I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.
He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;
And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.

The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow—
Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;
For he sometimes shoots up taller like an India-rubber ball,
And he sometimes gets so little that there’s none of him at all.

He hasn’t got a notion of how children ought to play,
And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.
He stays so close beside me, he’s a coward you can see;
I’d think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!

One morning, very early, before the sun was up,
I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;
But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,
Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed