Twinkle Twinkle

On Easter Sunday, I sat down for dinner with three (3! I won’t do that again...I promise...I’m tired of it too) of my closest Mastery sisters. As we sat down, I noticed that our hostess sister had placed a small gift at each of our places. She had purchased us North Star pendant necklaces. Very simple. Very beautiful. Very giving. Very meaningful. Because in the work that we do, we have all created our own North Star which expresses our biggest vision of our contribution to the evolution of the world.

Conversely on Easter, we spent a good deal of the evening talking about how much we need a break. While amazing and enlightening, the work has been a challenge: difficult on the emotional, physical, and spiritual realms. We also discussed how recently each of us had hit our own “wall” of sorts and had to make the difficult decision to stay in the work (although we all wanted, at some point, to walk away).

Since then, a question has been sitting on my mind because the discussion brought back memories of the pain from which I had recently emerged. There were nights that I laid in bed submerged in a level of anguish and agony that I had never before experienced. And while I never considered harming myself or anyone else, I did inform God, the Universe, (anyone with any clout) that if there was a heart attack in my future, I was fine with having it now. And I meant it.

All of these thoughts led to a Monday 3 a.m. awakening with the thought, “What if the North Star in our galaxy just got fed up with the world, decided that life was too hard to maintain itself as everyone’s fixed and reliable beacon, and decided to blow itself out?” (Yeah, I know. Try living inside my head.)

Now if THE one and only North Star decided to throw in the celestial towel, everything in the universe would sit up and take notice. Living organisms have relied on its constancy since the beginning of time. How would we know which way was up? How would we navigate? Would we find clumps of moss frantically growing willy-nilly in the forest??

Without this stellar lighthouse, would the sun perpetually ping pong itself across the sky: rising in the South one day and setting in the East the next? Does the North Star have some kind of magnetic quality? If it were gone, would the other stars, the constellations, the Milky Way all go a little coo-coo crazy (to use proper astronomical verbiage) and lose their sense of placement and direction? How would the earth know which way to direct its axis?

Seriously, it would be an event of catastrophic proportions.

So here is my question to myself. I created a fancy-dancy intention for my life (it’s right over there in the darker column to the right of this blog), and while I no longer feel the need to leave the planet permanently, what would it be like if I decided life was too hard to shine my own unique fixed and reliable beacon?

Essentially, after spending all this time and effort clearing away the smog and the ozone layer of my inner life so that I could REVEAL my small but (I hope) mighty light, would anyone (besides me) really be affected if I blew it out and continued on in a little pint-sized vision of my life?

Would anyone even notice?

Do I want to answer that question?

I no longer have answers for my life, but I do know enough to ask this.

How long am I willing to sit and wait for someone else to slip my own personalized version of It’s A Wonderful Life into that big DVD player in the sky so I can see the results of my life before I live it?? How long am I willing to passsively wait for evidence that the risks I take, in shining my light and living in my North Star intention, had meaning (have meaning, will have meaning) to some people?

And I know one more thing. It ain’t gonna passively happen to me. It’s going to actively happen through me. I have to actually write, star in, and direct my own life.

"Lights, camera..."