This is a rambling reflection.
Conjuring up what you need may be alchemy, or the universe conspiring with your friends and allies to hold you when you need to be held and sending you away when you need to be sent away – whatever the magic – it is possible to manifest. Manifest in a nutshell means to make public. It is not supernatural, it is alignment, a kind of revelation. The phantom of an idea comes out of the shadows and is visible to all – that moment revealed when the emperor has no clothes or the crowd intuits the next word of a song to sing along with the minstrel – this is manifestation. Once we have seen a new way, there is no going back.
Over the course of the week apparitions in the form of women feeding hordes from harvested orchards and keeping the books so the economy is healthy as well. I have applauded and celebrated talents and then those same women acclaimed have appeared almost immediately before me, enabling me to publicly tell them my admiration. I have even wondered about the shape of the moon, only to find it beaming on me as I left the darkness of city streets. Sitting in a pub with a sojourner a drain pipe reveals relevant initials and a promise from which I hear Simon and Garfunkel singing in my head: “The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls”. There seems to be no bounds to what can be manifest, when first you still your mind and look outward.
And now for a random and slightly related thought: To be infested is something else again, it is being tormented and harassed, over run, creeping and crawling. And what would ex-fested look like – to turn outward and away from the causes of damage and disease? It might be something like exfoliation perhaps? Or the interplay practice of exformation (to explicitly discard information) where we shake off and send out the overload.
What is invisible becomes visible when manifested and then in the bright, clear light of the public space all can be revealed. To see the shining smile of someone who has been recognized for their talents and publicly acknowledged for the gifts they bring; or the beauty of vulnerability in public places that gets greeted with compassion. Such a contrast to experiences of being marginalised and airspace clogged with words to beat off anxiety. Being infested with bugs of a different kind, I am being bugged and have little niggles nipping and biting me, distracting me from what is important and trying to get my attention.
The words pest and control together seem like an oxymoron – pests by their nature are often out of our control and despite all efforts seem to come and go on their own timeline. (The recent mini mouse plague is testament to this as well as the Revenge of the Possum play with its soundtrack most evenings awakening me from slumber.) The pests of the mind, the chattering monkeys, I am manifesting so they find their way from infestation to ex-festation. Imagine how much more manifesting can be done if those monkeys weren’t so pesky.
My promise to tomorrow is to take that mindful minute and be still before decision-making, before sharing, before opening, to call upon the quality of the cosmic consciousness that happens when two or three are gathered in goodwill. Not taking that moment invites the monkeys to make a home where pest control is required.