There are definite changes that take place within us when we enter into true or deep meditation (Edgar Cayce, A Search for God: Book 2: 138).
On Saturday, one of my spiritual teachers and her husband came to visit my family and I. This time she actually sat in my living room where I greeted her both on the inner and outer planes, simultaneously. She reminded the family of her definition of meditation. She said, “Meditation means alignment of our thoughts, feelings, and activities in unison.” In my experience so far, nothing in the world brings us into this state of being more quickly than to follow a deep-seated interest.
Lately, my youngest son, Forrest, hasn’t stopped talking about going fishing. That is, ever since his best friend took him to his friend’s family private reservoir to fish. Since then, Forrest has been gathering his fishing gear: pole, lures, fishing line, tackle, army knife, and fisherman’s bag. He religiously watches YouTube videos about how to fish and has become a walking encyclopedia about everything fishing.
Last Friday, the day before our spiritual teacher arrived, Forrest cast his pole in our home office, catching the line on some furnishings. The fishing pole snapped in two as he reeled it in. Tears streamed down his face, as he told me about the accident. Aside from not being allowed to cast a fishing pole in the house, I thought something terrible had happened.
The next Sunday, the day after my spiritual teacher made her visit, I remembered Forrest’s deep-seated interest in fishing, along with her words about meditation. So, I took him to the sporting goods store to buy a new pole. Honestly, I hadn’t taken him fishing yet and was feeling bad about it, too.
By that afternoon, Forrest was fishing on beautiful Concow Lake, near our home. The views of the pine trees surrounding the lake, with the dragonflies humming over the cattails, the sounds of bullfrogs along the water’s edge, and the occasional call of a Red Wing Blackbird in the distance, made this a majestic outing.
I sat, in awe of nature, on my camping chair, as my son readied his fishing pole. He was a bit nervous as a novice fisherman and wanted to get his technique down so he could catch a big one. This was his one-pointed focus in his fishing endeavor: a meditation practice to expand his awareness of himself and his surroundings.
I quickly noticed there was a little more than fishing going on. For example, I grew up fishing with my father and brother, Billy, each summer. But, every time I opened my mouth to give pointers to Forrest, my Spirit Guides stepped in and reminded me to keep quiet. I had the impression Forrest’s Spirit Guides wanted to work with him on the inner planes without interference from me.
Even so, the second day out fishing, Forrest became discouraged because the fish he caught were too small to keep. By California law, Bass must be 12 inches long to take with you. Down hearted and packed up for the day, Forrest wanted to try another fishing hole and use better fishbait than the hook and earthworm he had been using. This was true, even though the fish were nibbling like crazy at his worms, showing promise of a sure catch!
The Other Side had an opinion about Forrest’s fishing adventure and let me know about it that night while I was lying in bed. My Grandma Ruby came to me. She passed away when I was five years old. Grandma Ruby grew up poor and was an old fisherman in her own right. She showed me an image of herself standing at the fishing hole my son had been fishing in earlier that day while she said, “If he stuck with it right here, he might catch a footer.”
The next morning I told Forrest what Grandma Ruby said to me, and though he didn’t know her in this lifetime because she passed some 28 years before he was born, he raised his voice, “We’d better go back to that fishing hole like she said!” So, off we went!
Grandma Ruby had more to say that night, but I didn’t tell Forrest about it. I wanted to keep my promise to my Spirit Guides that I wouldn’t interfere. Ruby showed me how to fish over-hand, rather than casting a line to the side and getting it caught in a tree, which Forrest had lost his favorite lure doing, adding to his discouragement. Though I didn’t say a word to Forrest, I noticed he started fishing over-hand this morning. How did he suddenly learn to do that?
I have a sneaky hunch, Grandma Ruby was visiting with Forrest, too. And, her message about fishing overhead stuck in his muscle memory even though he may not have physical brain memory of her spirit contact with him.
I felt as though Grandma Ruby remained with us throughout our fishing expedition. She seemed to be witnessing, as Forrest caught six fish within about an hour, each a little bigger than the last. But, none were the footer he was expecting.