The Godsend

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I am starting to sort my gear for a week-long trip to my next Tom Brown course in the Pine Barrens of New Jersey. The Pine Barrens are a million and a half acres of wild scrub land in the south of the state that few people know exist. I have been told the land is actually below sea-level, bounded by the Jersey Shore, and therefore prohibits building. No one lives there, except perhaps some lawless folk and an old hillbilly or two. It is a sandy wild land of stubby oak, blueberries, narrow brown rivers and bullrush-filled swamps, accessible only by occasional rough dirt tracks. It is the location of the primitive survival camp where Tom Brown Jr teaches.

 

Tom is my current spiritual teacher. He is a white man, taught by a Lipin Apache medicine man to live in the wilds in traditional ways. His teacher and mentor, Stalking Wolf, was born around 1880, before all the horrors of annihilation of the original people had transpired, in a lineage of spiritual leaders. Stalking Wolf spent over 60 years travelling by foot through the wild lands of North and South America, obeying a vision he had received as a young man to collect the traditional ways of all the People and pass the skills along to a young white boy he would meet hunting for 'talking stones'. The boy would go on to found a school to teach all he had learned and through this connection, the original knowledge would be carried through time. Although he was in his eighties, Stalking Wolf eventually met young Tom in a gravel pit searching for fossils, and spent the next decade imparting as much as he could to his eager protege. And as predicted almost a century before, in his adulthood, Tom founded his school, and is internationally known for his books, skills and philosophy.1

 

From Tom I am learning wilderness survival skills such as starting a fire without matches, building a shelter from forest debris, purifying water, tracking animals and much, much more. But more important to me, I am learning traditional shamanic healing and intuitive skills that blow my mind. I am learning to perceive energy, seeing the glow of conscious light emanating from living things; to connect through the web-of-life with all life everywhere; to move my point of awareness through time and space; and to access and engage in the unseen spiritual dimensions.

 

In one winter class we worked with partners, one blindfolded while the other held out random objects. Without touch, the blindfolded partner scanned the objects energetically, trying to figure out what they were. Hmmm... this one seemed prickly, very light, full of tiny movements... Oh, a handful of fresh snow glistening in the sun! Another object was small but complicated, areas of differing density, with a sense of technology, man-made, purposeful... A pair of metal-framed eye-glasses!

 

In a different course we had sat in meditation and moved our point of awareness straight down into the ground, out through the earth to some random spot, then back up to the surface where we were instructed to locate any small object buried in the dirt. I saw a thin lumpy stick a couple of inches long, dark but with a flare of bright orange. I thought I must be doing the exercise wrong since the forest is not an orange place, but right then Tom clapped his hands, waking us from the meditation and sending us out to find our object. I walked to an area I had never explored before, located the exact spot, then dug down an inch for my object. Sure enough, there was the small, lumpy piece of decaying stick with a bright orange fungus growing from it! It is the feeling I get in these moments of success that drives me to learn more. I am thrilled to be discovering how rich and complex our world really is. The skills are not easy to master and I practice diligently. I love this work. It appeals to the deepest parts of my soul.

 

The coming week of learning with Tom will happen in the Pine Barrens primitive camp, the area where Stalking Wolf taught young Tom. It is a large area of wild land with only a couple of open-air shelters, one for cooking and one for a workshop. We sit on the open ground for classes, and if it rains, we get wet. Welcome to living in natural ways. So I must take everything I need with me including tent, sleeping roll, clothes, bio-degradable toiletries, as well as what I need for the course like notebooks, a chair, my knife, etc. These courses are rugged, keeping us busy from dawn til late at night, pushing the boundaries of both human endurance and what seems possible. I love every minute of them!

 

I've made a comprehensive list of everything I need to take and have started making piles on my bed. The list is lengthy, but my gear has to fit into a small space as students do not take their cars into the wild land. We park at an access spot and a truck from the hidden camp picks us up, so gear must be minimal. As I reach for a bulky pair of socks I can leave behind, I suddenly get a strong intuitive feeling that I will be stopped at the border. I have crossed from Canada into the US more than a dozen times over recent years, attending Tom's school and a variety of other spiritual and healing courses. I have never been stopped. I am as clean as a whistle, never attempting to take any contraband across the border, (except for that dead hawk I once found on the road and brought home wrapped in tin foil, hidden in a bag of garbage.) Believe it or not, although I am learning to be a healer, I am still an economics professor at a distinguished Canadian university, and though I may look like an old hippie chick heading to the woods, I am actually quite respectable. So I try to throw off the unwelcome feeling, but it clings.

 

Because I practice my intuitive skills daily, I have learned to trust there really is some spiritual force that connects us all, and I know it is kind, loving and helpful. To receive guidance, sometimes I ask a question, and sometimes a feeling just comes out-of-the-blue. My goal is to be able to ask for help when I know I need it, but also be receptive to incoming messages I don't know I need. The unexpected impulses have lead to some wonderful results I could never have imagined. Once while walking in a distant city I was directed right into the path of an old beloved friend I hadn't seen in years. Another time I was guided to purchase a wonderful new car I could never have afforded had I not followed the nudge and caught the last day of a massive sale. 2 So I accept that I may get stopped at the border, but for the life of me, I can't figure out what good it could do me. I don't like the idea, I don't want to get stopped and I intend to over-rule it if I can.

 

Two days later I start out on my adventure, kissing my kids goodbye and heading off to learn more energy awareness and spiritual skills. Again, as I back out of my driveway, there is the unwelcome feeling that I will get stopped at the border. I really don't want this to happen. It is a very hot Saturday in July, I have twelve hours of driving ahead of me, I know the line-ups will be long at the crossing, and the idea of adding more time in official business is something I dread. I seriously resist the impulse. A couple of hours later as I approach the border, I have a choice of which town to cross in. I usually go through the first one but I get an idea that's where I might get stopped, so I choose the second instead. As I crest over the less-familiar bridge separating the countries, I need to pick which gate to aim for from about a dozen long line-ups. Since I don't want to get stopped, I connect strongly with Spirit and ask to be directed to the line where I will not be stopped. The feeling is strong to choose a particular lane, so I join it. I feel I have licked the premonition and won't be stopped since I have taken care to avoid it. Silly me.

 

When I finally get to the front of the line, the guard in the kiosk is an officious little weasel of a man with a pinched face and sharp voice. He is very aggressive, questioning me over and over about the purpose of my trip, what I have in my car, what all my baggage contains. He makes me get out, open the back, and show him my gear. As he rummages through my belongings, unpacking things, even pulling a tampon out and peering into its box, he says, “You have to go inside. Park over there,” and points which way to go. “I knew it!” I think as I drive where he has directed. “So much for trying not to get stopped!” Fortunately I have lots of time, not needing to be at the primitive camp until the next evening, and I have nothing to feel nervous about, so I am relaxed, even a bit curious.

 

The parking lot is very full and I have to drive far down its length to find a spot way at the end. My car, a little Honda wagon, is festooned with sticks and stones, bits of animal bone, feathers, plus the detritus of a single-mom with four kids and a big dog. A dream catcher hangs from the mirror, while a crystal in the front window catches sunlight, throwing prisms through the car. This is a family car that drives assorted kids to school, parties, and rugby games as well as taking long family camping trips to the wilderness. It is well-used and well-loved, but not your average-looking car. I can understand why the officious man was skeptical, and I don't mind.

 

Making my way to the building I join a line of hot, harried passengers waiting for their turn at the grey counter. It is a noisy, busy place. There are five or six different guards working at computer screens to move people through the process. I listen as each of the drivers tells their story to a guard, answering many specific questions. When the questioning is complete, the guard says either, “You are free to go,” or, “I will have to check your vehicle. Meet me outside.”

The guard then leaves through an internal door while the drivers exit back through the main door and they meet outside.

 

When it is my turn, the guard I get is a youngish man, maybe late twenties or early thirties, short dark hair, a nice face. He is polite, efficient. He asks me where I am going, what I am going for. I answer honestly. He is reading from his screen when he remarks, “It says here you are a professor. What is your subject?” and I reply “Economics.” He keeps reading, asking questions and entering data, then says, “I'll have to check your vehicle. Meet me outside.”

 

I am bemused as I go out to join him. This feels like some cosmic play unfolding before my eyes. I am not nervous. The worst thing that can happen is I am turned away and can't go to my course. I see the young man standing waiting for me, join him and tell him I'm parked way down at the end of the lot. We start walking along, chatting as friendly strangers-making-small-talk when he switches topic and says pointedly, “So you're a professor of Economics?” and I reply, “Yes.” He then asks, “Does that mean you have PhD in Economics?” and again I reply, “Yes.” He begins to ask about my university, what it's like being a professor, what my research area is, then slows his pace and flushing, stammers uncomfortably,

 

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” He looks flustered, embarrassed, eyes darting back towards the building like he is breaking protocol. I assure him he can ask me anything and it's just between us. I smile openly and he launches in,

 

“Well, I have just finished a Masters degree in Economics,” he says, “and I don't know if I should go on to do a PhD or not. I took the degree by distance so I'm not attached to a university department. Now I'm wondering what I should do next and I don't know if it's the right thing for me to get a PhD or not. That's a lot more years of schooling, which I wouldn't mind, but I'm married with two kids and my wife doesn't work. Plus I have this full-time job as a border guard. Unfortunately, I just don't know anyone who has a PhD, or anyone who works in Economics, so I don't have anyone to talk to about it.”

 

We stop walking entirely and begin to engage in a most detailed conversation. I am used to sitting with students who have exactly this kind of query. I know the right questions to ask to help him tease out the right answers for himself. We address everything he needs to know; what the process is for getting a PhD, the difference between getting a degree in person or by distance, the differences between economist jobs in academia, government or the private sector, his family and their needs, what kinds of jobs he wants and can manage, and his long-term career goals. Basically, we discuss every question this lovely young man has held simmering inside himself for months or even years. He is very grateful and keeps saying he is embarrassed to ask so much, while I assure him I am most delighted to help. I let him pick my brain until he is finally comforted and relaxed. He has made his decision and it feels right for him. Really it is an MBA he should be going for next, and he should study in person at a local college. We have talked for well over twenty minutes in the hot noonday sun. He thanks me profusely, then comes back to himself with a start and says with a bashful grin, “Oh! I guess I should check your car!” We both laugh!

 

As we arrive at my odd car, he merely glances in one window, saying, “Looks good to me. You're free to go,” and as we say goodbye he adds, “Thanks again for your help. I really don't know how I would have gotten my questions answered if you hadn't come along. You're a Godsend!”

 

As I climb back in and wave goodbye, watching him walk away with a lightness in his step, I shake my head with wonderment. A Godsend indeed! How did Spirit and the Web-of-Life figure this one out?! This earnest young man had all these questions burning in his soul. How could he get his answers?! Then Somebody Up There thought, “I know! Tanis will be crossing the border this week and she won't mind talking with him. Let's send her!” and so it happened. Try as I might not to be stopped, every decision I made put me on his path. It was beautifully orchestrated by unseen forces. As I drive away, I feel humbled, a silly little human, what do we know?! All this magic going on around us all the time, and we don't see it! We replay familiar, often unpleasant ideas from our tiny minds instead of learning to participate in the big collective story. We look out through secular, rational filters and create a false world devoid of Spirit, energy and consciousness. How often are we nudged one way or another without recognizing it or following it? What treasures do we miss by insisting we are alone and separate?! We miss the elegance of it All! I realize that life really is one giant organism of loving consciousness, and we are each just a cell going about our business, unaware of the bigger picture, separable but never separate. Do the cells of my fingernails or kidneys know they a part of me? Somehow I doubt it. I decide to engage with Life from this plane of existence, seeing it All as One, not just when I am meditating or in the forest, but all day every day in my real, normal, human life. I feel both small and infinite, one small drop of consciousness in the ocean of love.

 

I am also deeply touched that I could be called upon to help someone out. I realize that following guidance isn't always going to be about making my own life better, that it might be for somebody else, even a totally random stranger. That idea had never occurred to me before. Previous nudges have helped me directly. But if we are all connected as one big organism, it makes perfect sense that any part can be called upon to help any other part. It feels good to be called on to help. In that moment I make a decision to dedicate myself further, asking to be put in service to all life everywhere. I am willing to answer the call whenever possible.

 

As I drive south, a gentle smile rests on my face and in my heart. Now, what cool new things will I learn this week!?

 

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