Have you been confused about the information the media reports about COVID19, and does the news make you nervous?
Often your best source is your inner knowing, and I will show you how to access the guidance you hold in your body.
Today you will also see an excerpt from “My Life on the Road” by Gloria Steinem that highlights one man’s view on the news media. It is entertaining and thought-provoking.
You may find it worth the time it takes to read it.
Let’s look at how you can tap into your inner knowing.
- Still your thoughts by focusing your attention on your breath.
- See white light – positive energy & love – entering your lungs as you inhale.
- Blow out grey mist – fear, anxiety, anger – as you exhale.
- Repeat until you feel a shift.
- Ask the divine truth and knowledge of the Universe to enter your crown chakra at the top of your head.
- The color is violet. Allow it to move into each of your seven chakras, one at a time.
- Ask to be shown a new perspective for the item in the news that confuses your thoughts.
- Present a yes or no question to the all-knowing Universe and watch for the answer.
- The answer will come in the form of a bouncing ball.
- The ball will bounce up and down for yes, and back and forth for no.
- The correct answer will gently resonate in your body, leaving no doubt.
- You have now accessed your full-body knowing.
Use this practice anytime you desire the answer that resonates in your bodies: spiritual, mental emotional or physical.
The following is an excerpt from:
My Life on the Road by Gloria Steinem
Chapter III Why I Don’t Drive
I’m headed to the airport for the third time in a week, trying to hail a taxi in the pouring rain. I’m late, I’m grouchy, and when a driver finally picks me up, I’m in no mood to talk to this scruffy white kid in his twenties. The only personal thing I see is a drawing of a gigantic eye propped up on the front seat next to him. I suppress my curiosity.
After a long time of quiet, he asks what I do. I offer just three words—I’m a writer—hoping brevity won’t invite conversation.
“Then I wouldn’t know you,” he says seriously, “because I don’t read.”
Assuming he’s a smart-ass, I don’t answer. “I also don’t watch television,” he goes on. “I don’t look at the Internet or read newspapers or books or play video games. I haven’t done any of those things in almost a year. I don’t want anything to interpret the world for me. I’m mainlining life.”
My resolve is slipping. He has made me think of a classics professor who told us to read Plato or Shakespeare or Dante as if we found their books in the street and had no idea who they were. I always loved his trust in the work itself—and also his trust in us.
Finally, I can no longer resist asking this guy why he is shutting out all the usual signals. He explains that his girlfriend was taking courses like women’s studies and black studies, so she put tape over the names of authors and told him to judge without knowing the identity of the author. He found this so disorienting that he started to count the filters that were telling him what to think. “Filters let in a cup of water,” he says, “but keep out the ocean.”
It turns out that driving a taxi is just part of a year he’s planned, working his way cross-country, doing odd jobs like repairing cars and picking fruit to support himself, all the while going cold turkey on media. He is seeing America without being told first what he’s seeing.
I tell him he has a lot in common with organizers. We’re trying to create spaces where people can listen and talk, without first putting each other in categories. After his year is up, I suggest he take what he’s learned and teach it to others.
“You see?” he says seriously as we pull into LaGuardia, “This is what happens with no filters.”
Instead of a tip, he asks for a bargain. “Write about my experiment,” he says. “Explain that you met this recovering media addict who used to dream about people in movies instead of real people. I never read a book unless some reviewer told me to. I was such a news junkie, I went to sleep with my headset on. I even worried about missing email while I was making love to my girlfriend. I had media-itis, but now I’m trying to see life unmediated.
“I’ve been clean for eight months,” he says seriously. “I’m just beginning to believe I exist.”
Finally, I ask about that drawing of a huge eye. “My girlfriend made that,” he says, “to remind me to see with my own eyes.”
I learned from him. I’m trying to see with my own.
I’m headed to the airport for the third time in a week, trying to hail a taxi in the pouring rain. I’m late, I’m grouchy, and when a driver finally picks me up, I’m in no mood to talk to this scruffy white kid in his twenties. The only personal thing I see is a drawing of a gigantic eye propped up on the front seat next to him. I suppress my curiosity.Let Marnie remove the blocks the inhibits your intuition
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