It’s interesting to me, knowing that we’re being watched. Personally, I set up a shield of privacy in the bathroom and at certain times (ahem) in the bedroom, but other than that I like to hear and share my life with our friends in heaven.
The flip side of this is what I call the Santa Claus effect. When you *know* you’re being watched, do you behave differently?
Last week I found a wallet. It had a substantial amount of cash in it – like, four months of gas or two months of insurance or two weeks of groceries or two nights in a nice resort kind of cash. The thing is, I immediately knew when I picked it up this woman *needed* this money.
I then looked at the card pockets and noted there were no credit cards. No credit cards, plus mature woman wallet plus lots of cash? This is someone who’s been bankrupt.
I had a moment, you know? I thought about what we could do with that money. But I decided that I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t try to get the wallet back to its owner, so I left my number with the clerk at the store where I found it.
Three days passed and I didn’t hear anything. In this time, I explored the wallet’s contents completely, and discovered a cover letter for this woman’s son, (which had several grammatical and spelling errors) a note on where her son lived, which is a notorious part of town and attracts people with all kinds of financial, mental and addiction problems I also found a bank slip showing that at the time this woman withdrew the cash, she’d overdrawn her bank account by $700.
Still, I kind of hoped she wouldn’t call, you know?
Tuesday night, the phone rang. She said her name was L, and she’d like to pick up her wallet. The trouble was, I wasn’t in town at that moment, but I expected to be home in an hour.
Her: “Well, no, I have to leave right now. I’m going home to ___.”
Me: “I could mail it to you?”
Her: “No, I need it right now. Can I go to your house? Is it locked?”
Me: “(WTF) No, you can’t go to my house, it’s locked.”
Her: “Doesn’t anyone have a key?”
Me: “No. There are two options here, if you want your wallet tonight you need to wait until I return, or I can mail it to you.”
Her: “Can I call you back?”
She hangs up and now I’m REALLY regretting leaving my phone number. I contemplated not answering the phone when it rang again. She didn’t even say thank you! Can you believe it? I could have taken the cash and dumped the wallet. I could have left the wallet with the cashier, leaving it open for someone ELSE to steal the cash. I could have quietly tucked it away and not mentioned it to anyone.
You know what? I thought of George. In that moment, the only thing keeping me honest was knowing that if I *didn’t* give it back to her, George and I would be having a talk about. Not a finger-shaking moralizing talk, but a discussion about the energy and the emotions around the situation. I don’t know why I thought it would be George and not any number of other teachers and helpers involved in my life on the other side.
I understand that when we die we do a life review, in which we observe the consequences of our choices and how they impact the lives of other people. I knew if I kept that wallet, I’d be looking at how I was victimizing this woman – rude as she was – yet again in her life. In that moment, my spirituality was the only thing preventing me from keeping that woman’s money.
The Santa Claus effect. See how that works?
How did I become the sort of person who would keep a wallet she found? (I was raised to know better, you know.) I became an entrepreneur. I co-owned a business with my Sweetie. Anyone who’s run a business knows what it’s like to get screwed over. If you go into business for yourself, it’s likely you’ll be screwed over either intentionally and with malice, or accidentally, by chance, bad luck, and even by your own decisions. Too many business people divorce their ethics from their business actions by saying, “It isn’t personal, it’s just business.” That’s the dark side… it’s easy to get sucked into that game.
I had a fair bit of anger to work out in the wake of our entrepreneurial adventure, and as evidenced by this wallet incident, it seems I’m still working through post-traumatic entrepreneurial stress.
I seriously thought back on all the times I felt screwed over by other people, and thought, “Well maybe this will compensate. Maybe I deserve this money, after what we went through.”
The fact that the woman who owned the wallet was a rude bitch didn’t help things.
I did, in the end, return this woman’s call. While I was mulling over our options, she was probably thinking about it too. She left quite a sweet message on my voice mail thanking me profusely and offering me $10 “for your honesty.” I was so freaking weird.
When I met this woman in the dark, drizzly parking lot of the store, I was startled to be greeted by two people in a van – the owner of the wallet, a woman in her fifties with a Canadian accent, and her mother, a woman in her seventies with a Scottish accent. (The rude woman on the phone had the Scottish accent, and I realized in that moment that I hadn’t been talking to the wallet’s owner at all, but her controlling mother.) When I touched the mother’s hand as I gave her the wallet I got this flash of information and understood a lot more about this family’s history than I care to share, and this is very strange; in general, I NEVER violate a person’s privacy by reading them without permission. It was utterly involuntary, and maybe it was part of the spiritual lesson.
Actually, I believe it was.
After returning the wallet, Sweetie & I had a discussion about the energetic consequences of this course of action. Returning the wallet was not at all an enjoyable experience, so what was the point?
I think we create our reality: if we behave as though we’re lacking, we’re going to create lack. We don’t need that money so much that we had to keep it – and by returning it, surely we were widening the doors for more money to come into our life. Right?
Well I’ll tell you, since the wallet incident, Sweetie has been called in to work and has made more money than we gave back. AND we cleaned up at Bingo last night. We really do have more money coming in. Our work is paying off, and it’s really, really nice. We’re changing the matrix.
In other news: a prestigious local gallery, owned by a rather famous first nations’ artist, is hiring a gallery manager. Sweetie is eminently qualified, and it will be the best thing to happen to her, job wise, in several years. Please help us by holding in your mind the image of Sweetie in her new gallery job, smiling and doing well. Thank you.
So who’s here? I believe that’s Kurt.
Kurt, what is up with all the Sputnik references recently? It’s come up in multiple shows we’ve watched recently, was mentioned on the radio and randomly in conversations in the past week. Last night it was one of the shapes in Bingo. We figured it was the name of the band we should listen to (nodding) – Uh, why?
Well I’m not going to tell you what you should think of them, (decide for yourself.)
Why do you want us to listen to them?
(Isn’t it obvious?) Because I think they’re cool.
Hey, do you feel like talking today? I kind of feel like you’re far away, or holding back.
No, that’s not me it’s (shows me the electrical craziness in my brain – I kind of feel a migraine coming on.)
Kurt, could you please help me ground that out? I don’t need a headache today.
Are you sure? (apparently I’m tired and that’s the only way I’ll let myself relax tonight.)
Okay, maybe I just need to ignore the mess at home tonight. Maybe we’ll just hide out in the bedroom, watching movies.
(That’ll probably help, and talk to George just before you fall asleep.) Alrighty.
Happy Weekend Everyone!
(As mentioned in previous entries, I have assistance / feedback on the photos I use in these entries. There was a fair amount of back-and-forth on the photo options for Kurt today, finally settling on this photo because Kurt remembers having migraines and says it made him feel like blowing his brains out. That’s a sort-of tongue-in-cheek comment, but it’s literal too, which is typical Kurt. He also REALLY liked these photos at the time they were taken.
I can’t tell you how damn uncomfortable I feel posting this bit, but I’m not going to sensor it. Really, I think he was just making a joke at his own expense. Now he’s telling me I ruined it by over-explaining it, and for the record he encourages me to just post the photo, explanation free, and those who “get it” will appreciate it. In compromise, I’m going to copy and paste this explanation to the end of this entry.)