The art of being ‘guided’


For years, a relentless energy of sheer guiding power has led me along.  I cannot suggest that I would actually be here now if I did not have this guidance.  It is pretty much because of this guiding power that I commit myself to every major action that I take.  I refuse to commit to a major action without first allowing myself to be guided in the direction that I am supposed to be taken.  I empty my mind, ground myself, and I allow myself to be naturally guided.

There is nothing more to it.

This is what led me to becoming a student here in Bath.
I was drawn into the environmental movement here, and into not going out with everyone else getting crazy drunk.
I was drawn towards running for a position in the Students’ Union as Environment & Ethics Officer.
I was drawn towards not living with any friends in my second year, for I saw that it wasn’t right for me to do, it created conflict and cliques that I didn’t ever want to be a part of.  So I watched as everyone clique’d the ffff out, and conflicted with each other, all because they separated into their future housing clubs.
I was drawn into deciding to go to this Hindu community that had an elephant for my second-year religion placement.
I was drawn into never leaving camp at Occupy Bath, despite all the other students leaving after about a week, and despite the hardships that I suffered especially regarding my tiredness levels from staying intensively at camp whilst also having university and other commitments.
I was drawn into Skanda Vale, and felt my whole life change radically.  Those emotions that came out that week were something deep and original coming up to be noticed.
I was drawn into dropping everything non-essential, as a way of cutting my life down towards a much simpler sense of being.  Over the first 4 months of 2012 I gave up almost all of the duties that I had/had created for myself as the Environment & Ethics Officer; I gave up drinking; I handed in my advance notice of resignation from my job; I gave up using a mobile phone; and I was forced to give up cycling.
I was guided for one week straight in mid-January 2012.
I was drawn towards setting up this Freegan movement in Bath with Alex.
I was drawn towards running for election for the new Religions & Beliefs Liberation Representative position.
I was drawn towards heading out to that Buddhist community that Jason told me about.
Myself and Alex were COMPLETELY GUIDED FOR THE WHOLE DURATION OF OUR TRIP UP TO BRITTANY.  No word of lie.  Both of us at one with God, with universal consciousness, with Oneness, with I Am, with pure bliss, with ecstasy.
I was guided into continuously persuing meditation whilst at Skanda Vale in September 2012.
I have been guided throughout the whole process of setting up and developing the Religions & Beliefs Forum and the Quiet Space.
I was guided along my barefoot running journey – especially on the day of the Bath Half.
I have been guided in every assignment in this year of my university degree.
I have followed with whatever I have been guided into in regards to my social and personal life in all of the last 6 years.  In my eyes, there is no doubt about that.

I follow this ideal, and believe that any other way would not be possible for me.

So what if an action that I was committing myself to happened to be causing a huge disruption amongst the community that I am surrounded by?

Well, this actually reminds me in some way of when actions of mine, despite being guided, were extremely difficult and tiring.  There have been a fair few actions that I have committed myself to that have been absolutely right in what I consider to be the true nature of things (when in moments of serene stillness clarity is found regarding the right direction that I am taking), but have troubled me intensely in the moment.
One such example, which has repeated many times, is of when things have been incredibly slow and cold on the hitching road.  I remember, for example, this trip I had up to Yorkshire from Lincolnshire.  Things were going well until I was dropped at a dodgy massive roundabout on the A1(M) near Sheffield.  From there, the police picked me up and told me that they would take me to another junction because this one was too dodgy.  Then I got a ride to a service station somewhere, and I didn’t have a clue where I was.  I bought a map, and then waited for 4 hours for a ride.  I stood through a thunderstorm, and then through the resulting rainbow and sunshine.  A man who is normally in Mexico picked me up and took me about 40 miles out of his way to drop me at the turnoff for the Yorkshire Dales.  I then strolled out and got a ride a little further into the Dales, then everything stopped.  I looked for a shelter for the night, because it was getting dark, but everything was damp and I saw no shelters.  I went back to the pitch-black road, and got a ride from a guy who told me he’d help me find a barn somewhere by the road to sleep in.  It ended up that he took me to the village I was supposed to be going to, and then when we asked in the pub about barns for me to sleep in everyone jumped at the opportunity to host me.  I told them who I was supposed to be staying with, and they all knew her, called her, and she fetched me and lodged me up.  I’d been through some crazy physical and emotional journal on this day, and yet it all came together beautifully, as it was meant to be.
Another beautiful, beautiful example for me is when I was in Exmoor.  I’d left Mum that morning, as she dropped me in the New Forest after we’d spent our annual holiday together in the Isle of Wight.  By the time I had got myself up to Exmoor, and specifically Porlock, I was feeling lonely and fairly sad, unsure of why I was travelling alone again.  Porlock Hill is an absolute mission when already feeling in a state like this.  I stopped halfway up the hill, put my rucksack down, and got my phone out to text Mum.  I was crying over texting, but I didn’t say this in the text.  I composed myself, and hotched up again.  I decided that I would break the promise I had made to the woman that dropped me at Porlock, who told me to finish hitching for the day.  First car was a police car, with the nicest policeman ever who took me as far as he could, to the border between West Somerset and North Devon.  Music from down in the valley, and I ended up in a pagan wedding after-party, slept in a meditation yurt, and yada yada yada.

So I question myself now, of why I would commit to an action that seems to be so arduous to take forward and yet seems to be also be essentially True. People previously have urged me to join the mainstream.  When I was hitching on both trips that I cited above, I had rides from people who completely did not believe in what I was doing, and thought that I needed to get a job as soon as possible in order to get back into the system.  My role in taking forward these activities that seem to be causing troubles is very much like this.

First they ignore you, then they ridicule you, then they fight you, and then you win.  What do you win?  What is there to win, after all, when you consider yourself to be outside of the whole race that they’re running in?

I see that I will continue to move through the tough times as I do with the easy times.  I will stroll strongly, for I have something extremely powerful carrying my feet at all times.  For every slip, there will be a roll.  For every scrap, there will be an expression of ultimate peace.  I will just follow what is already laid out before me, and trust that the effects that it has on the world around me are the desired effects of the world.  We are all One, and I am a part of it all.



Originally from: on March 11, 2013, 00:39.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s