Tags: Intuition, intuitive development, learning, life skills, reflections
Prediction is a popular pursuit in many areas, including business, politics, weather, economics, and (of course) the field of intuition. This article is about channelling one’s own intuition to gain a sense of what is likely to happen in the future. Perhaps the following tips will be useful for economists and weather forecasters too. Here they are, in six not always straightforward steps.
- Let go of any personal agenda. If you can’t do that, your best predictions will be no better than guesses, and often far worse. If you secretly want a certain outcome, you will distort your interpretation of everything you see, or sense. If you are not aware of this personal bias, or even in denial about it, your attempts to predict will fail. It’s good to work at knowing yourself. What, for example, do you fear? Unless you deal with your fears, they will pop up and distort your intuitions about the future.
- Make a life-long practice of being an observer of people, of life, of events. The more you observe, the more consciously aware you become of patterns. Patterns are everywhere. We tend to believe that we have self-determination – that we can shape our own future. That is true. But beneath the conscious level we ourselves are a part of many overlapping and interweaving patterns. This means that our choices are not always entirely our own. They are an expression of our family, our community, our country, our culture. Even when we rebel against these influences, they still work on us in unconscious ways. When we see the many patterns of life clearly, we are more likely to notice breaks in the patterns, and the effects of those disturbances to the general order of things. Observing the pattern of cause and effect is in itself a life-long discipline.
- Understand the process of prediction. Think of yourself as a channel. To be more precise, your conscious mind is the conduit through which unconscious information flows. You might think of pioneering psychologist Carl Jung here: he suggested that beneath the realms of our individual unconscious are vast realms of collective unconscious knowledge that we all share. When predicting, it’s useful to think of yourself drawing on this vast well of unconscious knowledge.
- Be clear about what you are aiming to predict. Ask a question. Consider whatever comes up in relation to that question.
- Use tools in moderation. Understand that no tools are essential, but they can be helpful. Tools might include scrying instruments, such as a crystal ball or a blank mirror, that you gaze into with a lightly unfocused gaze – a tv screen for the mind. Tools might also include oracle cards, or simply watching the sky or land and noticing what you notice. What comes forward for your attention? What relevance does it have to your question?
- Relax. Let go. Answers may come quickly, slowly or not at all. Sleep on it. Keep a dream journal. Be open to answers in your dreams, which can cut right to heart of an issue and reveal the psychology of a person or a nation. When you wake in the morning, pause… and sense the beautiful fresh blankness of the new day, like an empty slate on which your intuition can write. Take the whole process lightly. Be grateful for insights.
Finally, remember that prediction is always based in the present moment. It is subject to change. If a person starts thinking differently, they behave differently and the future changes. So we can only really tell what is likely to happen if people continue as they are. Above all, be kind. We always have the power to shape the future for the better.
Tags: disability, kindness, reflections, special needs, uk parents
This year, Friday 17th February is Random Acts of Kindness Day. But I would like to make the case that for some members of our society – such as my disabled son – kindness from strangers is an every day part of life. It always has been, in all of his 21 years.
In an age of austerity cuts and the resurgence of prejudices, I feel it’s important to say that many people of every political persuasion and indeed none are routinely compassionate and caring, every day of every year. In our family’s direct experience, kindness is the norm. Sure, we get tactless stares and thoughtless comments – but these are cancelled out by generous deeds and unexpected favours, from all directions.
My son Tim has always looked disabled. He has always needed a wheelchair. From the age of 16 he has needed oxygen therapy, which means a cylinder, tube and small mask wherever he goes. There is no question that Tim looks different from the norm – whatever that might be. If Tim’s disabilities were invisible, I understand from other special needs parents that his experience might have been less rosy. I can only write of our own experience. And that is, on balance, clearly positive.
When Tim was younger, strangers would routinely offer him cuddly toys which were sometimes bigger than him. Countless others – the most unlikely characters – would give him smiles. I remember wheeling Tim into a rather rough-looking pub in Cornwall. The proprietor was a middle-aged woman with a craggy face – austere and tough. She looked at Tim. Her face broke into a wide, kind smile. She became utterly transformed… actually beautiful. Thousands of others have smiled at Tim, but she stays in my mind because her kindness transformed her so completely.
At this point I have to confess that Tim has jumped many queues, and got into places without paying – because kind officials have ushered him through. From Blackpool Pleasure Beach to Disneyland, Tim has received VIP treatment. He even once got into the VIP enclosure at Brands Hatch to see a Formula One race without flashing a ticket. In some of these places the policy has been an official one. In others, it’s come down to the kindness of an individual at the gate.
When Tim was 14, he became very poorly while on holiday in Florida. We were offered family accommodation at the local Ronald Macdonald House near Wolfson Children’s Hospital in Jackonsonville, where Tim battled for his life in Intensive Care. His sister remembers receiving at least one present every day, and I remember that kind strangers booked up six months ahead for the privilege of cooking fabulous meals for all who stayed there. I’m personally sure that the kindness we received contributed to Tim’s speedy recovery.
Tim’s own attitude has to be mentioned. He smiles easily: a wide, generous smile that tells strangers he enjoys life and he doesn’t judge others in any way. He is visibly comfortable with the fact that he receives help from people. Again and again I have witnessed that Tim’s fun-loving and relaxed outlook makes it easy for strangers to be kind around him.
Advocates of equal rights for disabled people – and I am one of these – might argue that disabled people don’t want special treatment. They just want equal treatment.
Of course that’s true. Maybe all these favours could seem patronising. But I don’t choose to look at it that way. The truth is, being a physically, learning and health-challenged young person is unfathomably difficult, for the individual and the whole family. Tim lives at the edge of what is medically possible. So I look on him, and others like him – as something of a hero. And it’s perfectly reasonable for society’s heroes to receive accolades. The key is to accept the well-meant gestures gracefully.
This kindness even extends to those who care for him. Not so long ago Tim and I were sitting in the square next to Bath Abbey when a woman came up to me, holding a bouquet of scented flowers.
“These are for you,” she said to me. “Because I think what you’re doing is amazing.”
Recently Tim celebrated his 21st birthday with a restaurant meal. His friend and carer Bonnie was busy helping Tim to eat his puréed version of Sunday Roast. Her gentle patience was witnessed by a stranger in the bar. The young man secretly delivered an envelope to our group, to be handed to Bonnie after he had left. Our group got the timing wrong, and Bonnie received the envelope while the man was still present. Inside was a £20 note. Visibly moved, Bonnie went to thank the man, and the two hugged.
That hug between two kind strangers is what Random Acts of Kindness are all about. Who benefitted most: Bonnie, the kind stranger, or even the rest of us, looking on? The truth is, kindness given generously and accepted with genuine appreciation connects and benefits us all.
This article has also appeared in The Huffington Post.