What-can-you-do? (or The Spoon)

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I arrive at an old backwoods diner in rural New Jersey with three burly men, looking forward to a Sunday morning breakfast together. It is just before 7:00 on a misty fall day, colouring leaves shiny with light drizzle. Puddles collect in the cracked pavement, running off into ditches of shedding cat-tails. We arrive in separate vehicles, having arranged this rendezvous the night before. These guys are my friends, fellow students from a Tracker course we have just completed with Tom Brown Jr in the Pine Barrens of New Jersey. All four of us are exhausted and uplifted from the week of immersion in wilderness survival skills and shamanic spiritual practices, our minds blown once again by the power of the ancient teachings. It is the morning after the week before and none of us are in a hurry to head for home. Reintegration with the normal world, where people live without awareness of energy and spirit, can be a challenge. Spending the week in a community of like-minded souls who speak the same language and see the world from the same perspective is rare and dear. I am postponing the inevitable by taking this extra day for integration before heading north, back to Canada where I live with my beloved children.

 

It isn't surprising these friends are men. Although I have some good girlfriends, I've always found it easier to get along with men. They seem less critical of me. My life experience has suggested that women don't like me much. I even had a typical, unpleasant experience with a group of women students earlier in the week, shocking at a Tracker course, but I have put it behind me. As for these guys, I have been in courses with all of them before and we enjoy hanging out together. I feel good in their presence, peaceful, authentic, able to express myself freely. The men are honest, humourous, self-aware and I can be relaxed around them.

 

One guy is a tall muscley teacher from California with long braided hair, who lives in the mountains in a yurt he built with his beautiful wife. She is at home with their kids, but will take a different course with Tom later this year. They have a goal to teach the skills in their own community. The second guy is his college friend, a tall balding tax accountant from Denver. The two of them often take Tom's courses together as a way of staying connected across the miles and through the years. The accountant jokes he gets to live 'the life' vicariously through his old friend. The third guy is a heavily-bearded motorcycle mechanic from Chicago, years of grease built up under his nails. He and I have taken courses together before, chose to be in the same small working group this week and have bonded deeply through our shared experiences. He is divorced, no kids, and loves nothing better than to get on his big bike and take off for the wilds, practising his ability to go off grid and live well. And I am a single-mom economics professor from Canada, destined to become an energy healer and spiritual teacher, evolving myself and learning skills I will need when I eventually make the switch.

 

We are a typical cross-section of students from a Tom Brown course, oddballs dedicated to learning wisdom that transcends ordinary life. Tracker classes, often more than a hundred in size, can include people from Europe, Canada, the whole US, sometimes Australia or Japan. A diverse collection of seekers, from retired medical doctors and lawyers through middle-aged teachers and business-owners to young artists and musicians, representatives of the entire western world can be found sitting in the dirt, learning ancient knowledge from Tom. The groups are predominantly men, survival skills being a more masculine undertaking, but there are lots of women too, especially in the energy-awareness courses such as the one we have just completed. I've been coming to these courses for a few years now and feel it is my home away from home.

 

This recent course was held in an old Boy Scouts camp, so we were able to take our own cars, Tom taught inside a building, and there were indoor toilets! Compared to the primitive camp where most classes were held, this was luxury, although we still camped out in our tents, and the outdoor showers had been turned off for the season. As usual, we spent the week living in the dirt, and have the relaxed, comfortable-in-your-skin feeling that comes from living without mirrors, screens or expectations. Although it was possible to swim in the small lake bordering the camp, we mostly spent our days being comfortably 'dirty'. Although no one smells unsavoury, we are clearly an unshaven, unwashed foursome, outsiders here from somewhere else.

 

In this course we learned a lot of very cool things, from communicating with plants and animals, to going invisible in the woods. Not that these skills were easy or that many people could do them even a little bit, but instructions had been given, and we were all eager to practise once we got home. We also learned a simpler skill of imprinting objects with intention. We learned that all objects carry residual energies from their use and can be cleansed, which implies an object can also be imbued with a specific energy, or for a specific purpose. A wedding ring or a talisman are examples of charged objects, but the teaching goes much further. The intended purpose could be universal, so anyone touching the object in the future would receive the blessing, or it could be specifically targeted to one person or one purpose. In fact, there didn't even need to be an object to hold an intention, but a vortex of energy could be planted anywhere, for any purpose.

 

Late in the week we also learned to track animals through the woods by following their aura trails, the residual energy stream left behind by a living being as it moves through its life. The obvious extension of the lesson was that humans also leave aura trails everywhere we go. The residue is a template of everything about the person, like a personal signature, including all beliefs and behaviours, negativity and love in every manifestation. This was a call to clean up our acts, to take responsibility for what we leave behind us in the world. It also meant we could bless the world by doing our own healing work and leaving more love behind, the more, the better. Tom had cautioned us against hanging out in places filled with negative energy, such as creepy bars, and suggested we cleanse our homes. I liked all these ideas, and looked forward to implementing the skills in my own life.

 

Last night, after the final class and meal, the four of us agreed to meet for breakfast this morning before leaving for our respective, far-flung homes. Greeting each other in the muddy parking lot, it feels good to be spending this time together, a coda on the week and a bridge to our regular lives. The diner is set back from the road in a rutted lot, the old door squeaking on its hinges as we make our way in. The place is straight out of 1950's television, stools at the counter, fake leather everywhere. The early morning light filtering through dirty windows reveals worn linoleum, grey with years of muddy boots and scuffing shoes. Shabby tabletops are stained and scratched from countless years of wear and tear, the air heavy with smells of fried food and cigarette smoke from ages past. Choosing a booth along the back wall, the Californian and his friend slide in across from the mechanic and me. The slippery green seats come halfway up the big men's backs, and sag with their combined weight. I take the outside seat, giving my buddy as much space as possible.

 

We sit for a while, considering the various options on the typed, plasticized menu. We are tired and happy but also very hungry. Although the food provided at Tracker courses is healthy and plentiful, it is never greasy, and we are all craving those extra calories. A small waitress appears and without asking, slops hot coffee into our heavy old mugs, not caring that some sloshes onto the table, not wiping it up. I would have ordered tea, but accept the diner coffee. She is pinched, grey-skinned, seeming middle-aged, her thin hair pulled back in a pony tail, frown lines creasing her plain face. The collar of her uniform is fraying, her shirt colourless with too many washings. Her energy field is very prickly, like a porcupine. We all look up, smiling toward her, but she looks away scowling.

 

Returning the coffee urn to the counter, she bangs it onto the hotplate, then strides back to take our orders. Every movement is clipped, aggressive. Standing beside us, pencil poised above a small order pad, she growls, “Whad'ya want,” unfriendly, unwelcoming. We are taken aback by her hostility, especially given the open-hearted space we are in with each other. The men each order large combo plates and she writes their orders in tight, spiky strokes. When it is my turn, I politely ask, “What is a sausage patty?" I've never seen the phrase before and am wondering whether to order it or not. The waitress recoils from the question, frowning more deeply and barks, “Whad'ya mean, 'What's a sausage patty?'! It's a sausage patty!!” and turns and stalks angrily away.

 

“Wow, somebody's having a bad day,” the teacher says, the first to word what we are all thinking. The accountant adds, “Either she's a miserable person or she's in a terrible mood, or both.” The mechanic remarks bluntly, “Where I come from, she'd get fired for this.” I still don't know what a sausage patty is, so the accountant describes the greasy option, and I immediately decide against it; I'll go for bacon instead. With that I am ready to order, but the waitress is nowhere to be seen. Conversation suspended, we wait to finish ordering, but the wait goes on. We keep glancing over our shoulders, but the waitress has vanished. It feels to me like punishment, being ignored on purpose. The guys start joking, offering to share their meals with me, and I ruefully hope it doesn't come to that. My stomach, already growling with hunger, is now charged with emotion from the confusing aggression. The feeling is also resonating with the bad experience I had earlier in the week with some women students.

 

I know I can rub people the wrong way. There's something about me people don't like, especially women. I don't know what it is yet, but I'm working on figuring it out. I have been deeply immersed in my healing journey in the few years since I left my abusive marriage and I accept it must be something I do unconsciously that annoys people, because I have been treated this way all my life. My high-school walls were covered in graffiti claiming I was a slut or a snob when actually I was a terrified virgin, trying to fit in. I know I'm not a girly-girl, and have never fit in to girly culture. Although I tried, I always remained an outsider. Years of 'mean girls' have left me feeling very wary, defensive and stand-offish.

 

I feel called to be an energy healer, but I know I need to heal myself before I'll be ready to offer services to the world. Although healing is a long, humbling, often-painful journey of self-revelation, it is also highly rewarding, and I am committed to it. I have done talk therapy, where bringing unconscious patterns to the surface can allow them to dissipate, as well as body-centered therapies that have uncovered and transformed hidden patterns of belief and behaviour. All the work is making a difference, and I feel much more comfortable in myself, but I know I still have a long way to go. One of my main struggles has been with the demon of unworthiness, feeling less-than, not good enough, not believing in myself. Raised by a very critical mother who thought the worst thing a person could do was get a swelled head, I followed up with marriage to a mean-spirited devil who criticized me relentlessly. It was a long, hard slog but eventually I developed some confidence, even earning a PhD degree and becoming a university professor. Yet while all the healing work and accomplishments are helpful, I can still feel like a fraud or misfit, and until one day quite recently, I still felt unworthy and criticized most of the time.

 

That day, while walking along a busy city street, I had made a great breakthrough about criticism. One of my healing practices was to pay attention to my thoughts and notice when they could not be true. Walking along, I noticed my thoughts were focused fearfully on every random stranger in every passing vehicle. I truly believed they were all looking at me and finding fault with me as my mother and husband had done. In that very moment I realized how ridiculous that idea was! I realized that people are all busy thinking about their own lives and aren't paying any attention to me. Why would they? I'm just a person on the sidewalk to them! I had realized in that moment the whole drama of being criticized was going on inside my own head and could not possibly be true. This was a great insight and a great relief. People were all doing their own thing, and if they happened to look my way and have a critical thought, that was about them, not me.

 

There were two big take-aways from my revelation. The first was to see how much time and attention I had spent worrying about being criticized, and to reclaim those resources for more worthy goals. But the other was noticing that feeling criticized and criticizing others was the same energy, and I wanted to get rid of them both. I am basically a kind-hearted person but I frequently found myself caught up in criticisms and judgments of other people. In a healing process earlier, I had realized this criticizing was a defense mechanism, a way of feeling better about myself along the lines of, 'I might be bad, but I'm not THAT bad.' I discovered that although the moment of criticizing provided an emotional charge, it was always at the other person's expense, and in truth, it didn't feel good at all. Criticizing people wasn't loving, and I was learning to let love be my guide.

 

Recently, I had also discovered an unconscious pattern I must have created as a young child, of isolating myself inside an energetic bubble to make a little safe zone. My family was big, noisy and invasive, constantly criticizing and teasing each other. I had somehow developed this protective boundary, cutting the world off, and living in my own impervious world. Adults often described me as daydreaming, off in my own little world, or not paying attention, and all of that was true. Although the boundary was designed to protect from the onslaught of life, to have a criticism-free space, as an adult, I was learning it didn't work, and could make things worse. Not only did it not keep criticism out, it also pissed people off, feeling from the outside like I was claiming superiority. Isolation equalled snob in other people's eyes.

 

I thought maybe it was the remnants of this protective field the women students had reacted to this past week. I had been walking back to the teaching building from the washrooms when a student I hadn't met yet called me over by name. She was attractive with long dark hair, cool, earthy clothes and beautiful silver jewelry. She was sitting on the ground, leaning against the wooden building, her satchel, books and water bottle scattered around. It felt nice to be called over, inclusive, friendly, especially since I didn't think she knew my name. Smiling, I approached. The woman had looked up and without a flicker of emotion announced, “We don't like you. The group of women I'm part of all don't like you, and we thought you should know.”

 

“Jeeezus,” I had thought, reeling, “It's even followed me to a frickin' Tracker course!”

 

Feeling shocked and hurt, but managing to remain calm, I asked who the other women were. Maybe I had done something to one of them, and could apologize for any wrong I had committed. But in answering, the woman listed three or four names, none of which I recognized. Asking her to clarify who they were, and hearing their descriptions, I recognized who she meant, but I hadn't met any of them and none of them had ever talked to me! A bit bewildered, I exclaimed,

“But I don't know any of you! None of you have ever even spoken to me!”

 

The seated woman agreed this was true, saying rather belligerently they were all avoiding me. Beginning now to feel irritated and annoyed, I summarized,

“So, you're telling me that you women don't like me, and it is important enough that you will talk to me to let me know, but none of you have ever spoken to me before?”

 

And the woman agreed, yes. I was flabbergasted, shaking my head, but remaining polite and wanting to understand better, I asked,

 

“So, what is it about me you don't like?” and the woman quickly replied,

 

“We don't like that you hang out with the staff, like you think you're better than us. And we think you're fake because you talk with a fake British accent.”

 

Floored, I had replied, “The staff are friends of mine. We have been on many of these courses together, and I have known them for a few years. I even dated one of them, we've been on a camping trip together, and another is a friend of mine from home.”

 

With this unknown information, the woman had looked down, flushing a little with embarrassment and said, “Oh, I didn't realize that.”

 

“And as for my 'fake British accent', I'm Canadian, and this is how we talk.” Looking more embarrassed and a bit flustered, the woman started getting to her feet, blurting,

 

“Oh! I didn't know you were from Canada! That makes sense. I'm sorry...” and she started smiling somewhat sheepishly, her field expanding in a tentative but more welcoming way. In the past, before my healing work, I might have grovelled, sucking up, trying like a scolded puppy to be liked. But now I didn't need to be liked, although I did need to get away from the familiar critical energy, so without rancour, I had said,

“You know, you should really talk with someone and get to know them before criticizing them and making up bad opinions about them,” and I had walked away. I took some time later in my tent to process the triggered feelings, but felt I had managed it pretty well. I then put it behind me, not wanting to give it any more attention in an otherwise wonderful week.

 

But in this moment, the waitress pointedly ignoring me is activating my unworthiness wound and reminding me of the women. I decide to tell the guys about my experience with the student, to get their take on it. They are listening, with intelligence and sympathy, agreeing it must have been an awful experience, congratulating me on not getting angry, interested in my willingness to learn what I was doing wrong, when the waitress reappears, balancing three heavy plates piled high with steaming diner breakfasts. As she deposits them in front of the three men, I look directly up at her and say pointedly, “I would like to order too please.” Rolling her eyes and sighing with irritation, the waitress slowly takes her pad from her pocket. I also order a big combo plate, with bacon. Without a word, the waitress heads for the kitchen. The four of us look at each other again in disbelief. As the guys begin to eat, offering me bites, we all comment how this is surely the worst waitress any of us have ever encountered. It is very easy to collude in criticizing her since it seems she has earned our disrespect. In the end we shake our heads, shrug our shoulders, what-can-you-do? The missing plate of food arrives quickly and the accountant returns to the topic of the women students.

 

“I know two of those women from Denver,” he offers. “They are known to be not-nice people. I've heard similar stories about them before.” While I realize he is well-intentioned, wanting to help me feel better, I really don't want to start bashing the other women. That would be me criticizing them, and I'm attempting to stay neutral, even though that is a hard ask. It would be way easier to start bitching about them, upping the scandalized stories of 'did you hear about when she...' and ' I heard they...' but I have had enough of those bitch-sessions to last a dozen lifetimes, so, thanking all the guys genuinely for listening and supporting me, I change the subject. “So, do any of you have favourite Parks you like to visit?” The guys start comparing National Parks they know, and I allow my attention to drift. I feel I am on the cusp of something and want to give it a chance to show up.

 

Tuning in to myself, I realize I am caught in a whirl of emotional thoughts about the waitress, how terrible she is, how unjustified her behaviour is, what an awful person she is, when it dawns on me that I know absolutely nothing about her. I suddenly feel a similarity between the women students criticizing me, and the four of us criticizing the waitress. True, the waitress has treated us poorly, but even so, it doesn't feel good to be being snide and holier-than-thou about her as a person. Although it seems the waitress 'deserves' the criticism, it still feels unloving and unkind. I don't want to meet negativity with negativity, but to find a way to rise above it, so I ask myself, “What if I let love be my guide?”

 

My emotions immediately start to quiet and I begin to watch the waitress from across the restaurant with more neutrality. As I observe her with more loving eyes I see for the first time how miserable she seems. She looks like she's carrying the weight of the world on her thin shoulders. She never says a word to anyone, her only sounds being sighs or grunts. Maybe it's from feeling sorry for her, working her life in this grubby little diner, or maybe from my new desire not to criticize people, or maybe from feeling how unfair the students' criticisms of me had been, but whatever the reason, I begin to feel compassion for her. I don't know what to do about it yet, but at least it feels better to be compassionate than hostile. Then an idea pops into my head to try some of our newly-learned skills on her behalf. “Hey,” I say at a break in the guys' conversation, “What do you think about this idea? I've been watching the waitress and I think she's really miserable. Maybe we could help her have a better day somehow? Could we try some of our new skills to help her feel better?” The guys switch gears immediately, breaking into smiles. They are all on board. Trying to think up what we could do, the Californian suggests we fill an object with good intentions for her. We all like the idea and concoct a plan.

 

We will pass a small coffee spoon around the table, each imbuing it with heart-felt intentions for the waitress. Then I will place it next to my elbow on the edge of the table and the next time the waitress appears, 'accidentally' knock it on the floor. We can imagine how irritated she will be at having to bend over to pick it up, but hope it will be worth it for her in the end. The Californian picks up a small spoon, and holding it tenderly between his hands, closes his eyes, and makes contact with the metal. He doesn't speak, but we can sense he is filling the spoon with loving energy from his heart. He takes his time and we return to quiet conversation. Eventually he gently passes the spoon to his college friend, who takes it in one hand and crosses his arms, the spoon vanishing against his chest. We can tell he is working with the spoon in an unseen way, adding whatever his own personal wishes are for this unhappy soul. After a while, he passes the spoon across the table to the mechanic, who takes it in both hands, closes his eyes and goes within, communing with spirit and the spoon on behalf of the waitress. When finally the spoon lands in my hand, I am surprised to be able to feel the mighty, loving resonance it is carrying. It is almost aglow. I now focus inwardly too, connecting into the essence of the spoon, adding to what is already there. Knowing what a gift it is to me to connect with my own higher energies, I choose to invoke the waitress's higher self and spirit guides to be present for her through the spoon. Then I add energies of peace and comfort, and finally, I dose it with a big helping of unconditional love. I then set the spoon strategically on the table beside my elbow.

 

This is the first time any of us have tried this practice and we have no idea if it will work or not, but how would we know? While we're curious to see if it seems to make any difference, we are quite prepared for there to be no visible effect. We have been taught it is important to practice spiritual skills with no attachment to an outcome, to let it be an egoless experience, without expectation. So we return to our conversation about the course, sharing experiences from the week, almost ignoring the little spoon sitting there, waiting. When the waitress next appears to refill our cups, I sit back, moving my arm a little, and knock the spoon to the floor. With an exasperated sigh, she bends down to pick it up. As she stands back up, gripping the spoon in her hand, a lovely smile breaks across her face and I realize she is actually quite young. She then speaks for the first time, cheerfully asking, “So, where are you guys from anyway? I've never seen any of you in here before?” and eyes agog, mouths dropping open with shock and delight, we each reply. She continues brandishing the little spoon, chatting about how far from home we all are. She has heard of Tom Brown Jr and is curious about his courses. We tell her some stories, while she smiles, relaxed, asking questions. The whole time she is gripping the spoon, waving it around as she speaks. Eventually, she starts to replace it on the table, but interrupts her own movement saying, “Hang on, I'll get you a clean one.” As she starts to turn away with the spoon still clutched in her hand, she remarks, “Sorry about the sausage patty thing. It's just sausage meat in the shape of a burger patty. You were smart not to order it.”

 

As she walks away, we all turn to each other, eyes bulging, mouths open! What did we just witness!? Magic at work, for sure. All we did was imbue a simple object with loving intentions for this woman, and right before our eyes, we saw it transfer into her body and change her whole presence! She went instantly from crabby to cheerful, hostile to friendly, unwelcoming to curious! This was unbelievable, yet absolutely true. So if such a simple act could make such a big difference with the waitress, we begin to consider other ways we could incorporate this practice into our lives. The teacher could imbue the objects in his classroom with a variety of energies to help support and encourage his students. The accountant could add peaceful, calm energies to the doorknobs and furnishings in his offices. The mechanic realizes he already works with love for the machinery, and could easily extend his intention to include the riders. And I get serious about cleaning the bad old marriage energies out of my home. I realize I can energetically clean my place, replacing grungy old energy with loving kindness until the whole place sparkles! It would feel so much better and be beneficial to everyone. We also remember Tom talking about planting vortexes in public areas where anyone could be blessed with love and goodness and I decide to do it on the benches in the park in front of my house. It feels like the sky's the limit on how this simple skill could be applied.

 

The waitress returns with our bills, all smiles,wishing us safe travels for our journeys home. As I reach for my wallet, I have a huge epiphany! I should try something like this with all those women who 'don't like me'! Instead of being wary, stand-offish and defensive, assuming without reason that they're criticizing me, I could be loving, kind and open. “Hah! I'll bet I'd get a much nicer response! “ I think, laughing at my own folly. People might be wrong in their interpretations of why I isolate, assuming I feel superior, but they are right that I am avoiding them. Being scared and protective certainly isn't working, so maybe I could try being friendly and inclusive instead! Duh! Of course! I realize with delight and chagrin the truth of the old statement, 'You get back what you give out'. I have been projecting the energy of criticism, so people have felt criticized by me. Basically, the universe has been responding in kind. If I avoid people, they avoid me. If I feel criticized, someone will resonate with the energy and be willing to criticize me. Maybe all I need to do is be friendly towards women and they might be much friendlier toward me! It is so simple.

 

The four of us finally rise to go, leaving substantial tips behind. We may be able to gift the waitress directly, but she has gifted us unknowingly by demonstrating so clearly how powerful this work can be. I have learned from my own healing journey that I am not a victim in my own life, that I can always do something to help myself feel better, but I have never realized I could do something to help other people so easily. It felt futile trying to change something not in my control. But now, instead of shrugging my shoulders and saying 'what-can-you-do', I realize I have some powerful tools at my disposal to actually do something good.

 

Leaving each other in the parking lot, we all embrace in heartfelt hugs, hoping to cross paths again in the future. The Californian and his friend fold into their little rental car, heading to a distant airport for their journeys home. The mechanic climbs up into his big pick-up truck, waving from the window. And I sink into the comfort of my family adventure-mobile, ready to head for home and my loved ones.

 

As I drive north, looking forward to sharing all I've learned with my kids, I start to consciously leave a trail of love along the highway for any motorist coming behind me. There is so much negativity in the human world, why not purposely leave some random positivity lying around for others to pick up too. It feels so good, like being a little fairy, seeding love and kindness wherever I go!

 

Thank you Tom.

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