A View From the Terrace

It is an interesting phenomenon, when you are in a particular vantage point, like a terrace, or an airplane, it seems each light below represents a story. The view from the vantage point gives the impression of having great insight and understanding. It is tempting to imagine what the stories are that are represented by the lights far below.

Sometimes, in the daylight, it is possible to see activity, children playing, pedestrians intent on their destinations, hurrying along with bags or briefcases. Again, it is easy to imagine the stories. But what if that energy or imagination was able to have an impact on the lights, or the strangers below? What if the story you imagined was actually able to influence the life or the purpose of the beings whose stories you imagine?

This is pure speculation and it is something that has been circling in my imagination for more than half a century as I have traveled the world and seen the sun rise from 30,000 feet many times, after watching the scattered lights of the lives below me in the darkness. I have given in to the temptation to describe the stores of those lights. From planes, from trains and from terraces over the years, the lives below me are unfolding and playing out in infinite ways.

The grandmother, retrieving a child after a fall from the slide, embracing and comforting the weeping one, telling her not to cry. It’s alright. I can almost hear the words, as they were certainly said to me under similar circumstances. The light in the office down below, the blinds being opened so the coming dawn can share it’s grey beginning with the one who is so early at their task. What is the story there?

It is certainly a rich field of possible tales, and each one is crying for more attention to detail. The hurried people below, on their way to…what? A job, an assignation?  Home to loved ones? Hungry for a meal, or a paycheck or a lover… all are in a hurry. On their way, focused and committed. The stories bubble up and splay themselves across my mind.

The woman in the balcony across the way, as she struggles to move a heavy chair to catch the early sun as she sips her tea… or is it coffee? She peers below her to the square and the people walking intently on their way to the future. What is she thinking?

Or the ones who look at me, as I wander or struggle or rush. What is in their minds as they observe my actions? The mirror reflects in both directions and shines a light across the infinite reflection of possibilities. What if speculation and imagination carry the energy of intention and impacts those possibilities in unimagined ways. How could we ever view a stranger in the same way again?

If we can ‘imagine’ for a moment that this might be true, is it possible to see how we might be able to affect the world in a wonderful way? Might we begin to send waves of energy to the lights, or the hurrying strangers, that carry love and support. Thoughts that offered light and encouragement. And, even if it isn’t how the universe operates, what can be the harm in wishing a distant stranger ease and grace, fulfillment and peace. Whatever we send out, it is true that it is returned (some say three-fold). I am inviting all of us to experiment with this incredible potentiality.

I declare to the Universe and all those experiencing this momentary individuation of All That Is that I will be sending nothing but tendrils of energy holding joy, fulfillment, peace and plenty. No matter who. I have recognized the futility and detrimental results of judgement, and now, I realize that speculation is a form of energy. If it is directed… at a stranger, an enemy, or anyone… it has the potential of impacting the receiver, and if it can be positive or negative, why would I not wish to impart the best possibility for all?

I observe, in my view from the terrace, an old man, using a cane, crippled and bent, the pain of movement obvious in the halting gait. I take a moment and send him warmth and compassion and a wave of understanding and acknowledgment of the effort and work he must have done to have his current condition as a result. From my heart a wave of compassion (not pity) pours out to him. I wish him ease and comfort, with respect and gratitude.

If it can possibly be received as a wave on energetic intention and be felt as even slight relief, I will have done something positive. If it only returns to me as a reflection of the energy I have sent out (if it’s trebled, how great), I will be better for it. What if we all tried this idea when we have a view from the terrace?  Or as we fly or observe from a vantage point, or hurry on our own way. Next time you see a light far below, or a stranger hurrying toward their future, perhaps a wish for peace and plenty would not go amiss.