Had I been a lady of delicate disposition in the 1700s, when swooning was all the rage, rudely thrust forwards in time to 2010, I’m sure I’d have swooned at various junctures a few times lately and have needed smelling salts to bring me round – from sheer information-overwhelm, not just electronically delivered but bioplasmic too – in fact every avenue through which the world can send information down my shoot and vice versa is wide open, presumably in line with the unprecedented evolutionary thrust going on at this time and though I’m no 1700s lady, delicate or otherwise, but a gentleman made of sturdy stuff in 2010, I’ve found it making me feel quite woozy at times.
Yet have also found that rather than resist the wooz, it’s been more expedient to relax into it and still do whatever I’m doing in a woozy-swoony way, hence the woozy-swoony ambience of this article.
I think it may have been triggered by a severe bout of noise pollution on the plane flying back to Ibiza after doing my annual session at the Mind Body Spirit festival in London over the weekend, giving my system a jolt. It’s already been proven noise pollution is one of the biggest contributors to unhealthy stress, and I was feeling like an errant lab rat that had escaped from the original experiment, had just been caught up with and was being subjected to a mega-dose of noise as a punishment. Call me melodramatic if you will.
But picture yourself as follows.
Airborne torture
You’re on one of the British Airways flights unaffected by strike action, imagining naively because it’s a ‘proper’ airline, the passengers will somehow conduct themselves in an orderly way. You’re craving a couple of hours of relative silence in which to collect yourself, as you’ve had a mad couple of days giving out huge amounts of chi, days replete with many meetings with many people and much sensory stimulation around the edges of the action and in the gaps between and you’re already feeling slightly 1700s lady style delicate from that.
When all at once you realize you’ve indeed been rudely thrust back in time, not to the 1700s but to circa 1992, surrounded on three sides by a group of ten inebriated superannuated rave monkeys bound, like a large cliché, for the clubs of San Antonio (my sympathies to the staff), insisting on loudly shouting nasty, cringe-inducing tabloid headline style banalities at each other by way of banter, nearly the entire trip in the most unaesthetic, ear-grating way, having sunk collectively to a level of intelligence and social finesse even an actual monkey would have felt ashamed to witness.
This troupe is a disgrace to primates of all kinds in fact and it’s only the supreme professionalism of the cabin crew preventing the situation boiling over into a full-on mile high brawl.
But just in case this aural bombardment doesn’t fully hit the spot pollution-wise, a toddler to your left, who’s evidently spent the first year of his life dedicated exclusively to developing a high-pitched scream that would deafen a banshee, insists on demonstrating his skill every two minutes, while his parents somehow unaware of the pain this might be causing their fellow passengers’ eardrums and doing nothing to temper his outbursts, sit there smiling obliviously – they’ve probably gone deaf from the screaming ages back and don’t realize he’s doing it.
Seeing the Buddha in the other transforms the way the other behaves
After a moment of obligatory irritation, I set about transforming the situation by seeing past the hooligan to the Buddha within each of the ten rave monkeys and past the banshee in the toddler to his shining peaceful spirit within and let myself commune telepathically with them all at that level in a state of tranquility.
It wasn’t easy.
It took about an hour, but by the time we were whizzing through the night sky over the Pyrenees, a moment I always like to cherish as I say hello to various peaks in the range I love, the monkeys were all talking rather than shouting, their enunciation and intonation had subtly changed from deranged to something I could recognize semblances of the English language by and the toddler had fallen fast asleep.
As you can see, I survived and in some ways even thrived on it, but it has made me swoony.
And I was wondering whether it was in the air in a more generalized sense, and whether you were feeling a bit swoony too.
If so let us join as one in this swoon of June and affirm, ‘Even though I may be feeling the swoon of June, my actual focus, clarity and momentum are increasing exponentially – what a fabulous adventure I’m on”.
For as we declare, so will it be.
With love, Supercharged
Seeing through to the Buddha in the other, causes the other to reflect that by spontaneously becoming more Buddhalike in your presence. That’s how we transform the world.
