237 Kinds of Blind
In E-Squared: Nine Do-It-Yourself Energy Experiments That Prove Your Thoughts Create Your Reality, author Pam Grout postulates that we see what we expect to see. It sounds sort of obvious, but go beyond that first reflexive response to get to the deeper truth: all the things we habitually think about show up for us, every day. Piece by piece, moment by moment, they make up our experience of life.
Leave aside arguments about whether or not that’s because we manifest them with our thoughts. Just consider that if you are thinking about seeing yellow cars, you’re probably going to notice yellow cars. Which is fine, of course. Unless it would serve you better to see/find an orange car, in which case, you may be blinding yourself to it.
I lived half my life east of the Mississippi, and autumn is one of the times when the geographic change from the Midwest to Colorado is most obvious (the others are the 300 days of sunshine a year, but I digress). One of the things I miss most about back east is the riot of fall color I grew up with: crimson and copper and fiery red, the landscape aflame with autumnal light show.
Here in Colorado, we have yellow. Lots and lots and lots of yellow. The aspens, when they turn brilliant gold, are indeed spectacular, set against the backdrop of the snow-capped peaks of the Rockies and reflected in shimmery mountain lakes. But because of the 500-year flood that overtook Boulder and its mountain neighbors this fall, the roads to see those aspens were largely closed during peak season, and I missed them.
My son and I, while grateful for our dry home, safety and good health, have been grumpy about this. “Yellow,” he says, looking out the passenger side window on the way to school. “Yellow, yellow, yellow. Oh, and look! More yellow.”
My son is a smart ass. Kinda like his mama.
So this morning, I decided to undertake an experiment suggested by Grout in her book: pick something random—or even something weirdly specific—and decide you’re simply going to be aware of seeing it. Green cars. Purple feathers. Yellow buttons. White dogs.
I picked trees with red leaves. I told my son that I would count myself lucky if I found 60 of them on the drive to school and back.
The Universe smiled at my underwhelm. And then, quite simply, it showed off beyond my wildest dreams. I counted 237 trees with red leaves during a single half-hour drive. And I was sticking to my main route, not driving up and down side streets and actively scouring the landscape. 237 of them, the final one planted RIGHT NEXT TO WHERE I PARK MY CAR.
And people, they’ve been there for days, if not weeks. Can I get a “DUH”?
I didn’t see them because I was very very busy with my sad story about how there aren’t any pretty leaves in Boulder and all the trees turn yellow. I almost missed their beauty because I was so focused on lack rather than being present to what actually IS.
Recently, I’ve turned lots of sad and limp little stories on their ear, simply by changing my mind, opening my eyes, and subtly changing the way I show up in the world:
- I can’t lose weight. (I’ve lost 25 pounds in two months.)
- Attractive, available men are not interested in me. (I’ve gone on several dates with kind, interesting, funny and tender-hearted men, all but one of whom have expressed keen interest in seeing me again.)
- I am not strong enough to travel. (Since March, I’ve been to Kansas City, St. Louis, Chicago, Albuquerque, Tucson, Phoenix, Sedona, the Grand Canyon, Monument Valley, and across the Great Divide.)
- I’ve learned that my “great expectations” actually weren’t so great. And so I dropped them like proverbial hot potatoes. Hey, I’m allergic to potatoes, anyway.
What are you thinking about these days? What do you expect to see? My guess is, whatever’s on your mind and lurking in your expectations is pretty much what’s showing up.
Today, tomorrow, the next day, how about considering Grout’s experiment? Pick something new. Something random. Something silly, or something inspiring, or something beautiful. Expect to see that, instead.
May you be blessed 237 times over—and then some.
Want to learn how to change your stories and your expectations and become a conscious creator of your own life? Want to learn how to see and experience exactly what you want to receive? Drop me an email at firstname.lastname@example.org and learn how we can work together. I’ve been waiting for—you might even say expecting—you.