Groggily, I rub my eyes and walk towards my desk. It’s early in the morning — really early. 5AM early. Military and insanity early. I shuffle my feet into my slippers and then walk into my office.
I turn on my Himalayan salt lamp and feel a rush of power and energy course through me as the spiritually-mined salt filters the rays of the incandescent light-bulb I bought at a hardware store. The freshly ionized light lands on my face, causing me to experience myself like an eagle soaring over a vast canyon. A canyon so big you could name it “The Really Large Canyon” or “The World’s Vastest Canyon” or something like that.
Even though it’s been only five seconds since I turned on my Himalayan Salt Lamp, I’ve already experienced four lifetimes as an eagle. Those lifetimes were primarily spent soaring over the really large canyon I mentioned earlier, but it was still soaring and so it still counts.
Coming back to the present moment, I notice that something feels off.
I’ve only just gotten up and my spider-, sixth- and auric-senses are firing off the charts. I guess it’s going to be one of those days.
I close my eyes and take four deep breaths through my forehead and one through the soles of my feet, opening myself up to my higher power and praying that they’ll show me the path to right whatever wrong I’m feeling. Suddenly, insight pierces me like a benevolent crossbow bolt. Struck by this awareness, it takes me only moments to notice that my arrangement of crystals has been disturbed, whether by forces greater than this mortal realm or by my cat, I’m not sure. The hematite crystal, normally so crucial to grounding and keeping the rest of these dangerously powerful energies in check has been turned slightly askew.
With the swiftness and confidence of someone that has been divinely inspired, I turn the crystal slightly back to the left, realigning the delicate balance I have created on my desk. I pray to myself, momentarily mistaking me for my higher power, asking that no one be harmed by this colossal shift in the energetic balance of the solar system.
Effortlessly, I flick my hand across my trackpad and my computer roars into action showing me the latest news feeds. I notice that there’s been a car accident because of the snow in eastern Canada, and I pray (this time remembering to direct it towards my higher power) that no one else is hurt by the misplacement of my desk’s crystal formation.
I think to myself that I should probably meditate, and having thought about it, conclude that that is basically the same thing and get up to address the parch-y feeling in the back of my throat. Walking out to the kitchen is a delicate task. I’m simultaneously sensing using all six of my chakras, keeping my Hara energy aligned, and being sure to lead with my centre. I fall down a few times, simply overwhelmed with keeping all of my various energies in balance, as well as the fact that I don’t see my cat underfoot and tumble over him as he rubs against me.
I have a sensible chuckle, warmly reminding myself “Adam, there are days… and there are days.”
I guess this is just going to be one of those days.
I get back up from the floor, masterfully righting my Hara energy and projecting positive vibes onto my dog as I walk past him. Though he continues sleeping, the uptake in his breath seems to say “Adam, thank you for this generous gift. I applaud you as a fellow being.”
Although I know that filtered water would more accurately address the dangerous absence of alkalinity in my body, it requires more work, and I’ve already been up to so much this morning. Cutting myself some slack, I instead undertake the gruelling task of mentally validating the action I’ve already decided I’m going to take.
I know that global warming and pollutants have raised the levels of acidity in our rain, or “acid rain” as it’s called in mainstream media. I expertly reason that my body will have built up a natural tolerance to higher levels of acidity, and thus will likely be favouring a balance downwards into the realm of the alkaline. This, coupled with the fact that we’ve had very little rain as of late, suggests to me that my body may be at a dangerous level of alkalinity, and therefore, drinking the water from my tap, which is almost pure acid, will probably return me to the normal state.
Relieved, I pour myself a refreshing glass of water and drink it down. I make a note on a pad of paper so that I can refer back to this mental reasoning and remain consistent with it tomorrow in case I feel like taking a different action.
As I finish drinking my water, I notice that the glass I’m using no longer thrills me with a spark of joy, and so I smash it on the ground to ensure that I don’t later accidentally use it and fool myself into thinking I want to keep it. I trust my higher power that I won’t step on any of the glass shards now strewn about my floor and return to my office.
Sitting back down in my chair, I think about how I used to drink more coffee, but now I drink more tea. I realize that this happened around the same time that I started to feel like I wasn’t enough, give or take five years, and suddenly experience two simultaneous breakthroughs. I tap myself five times on my forehead, three times on each earlobe, and turn the lights in my room on and off eight times each, telling myself “I am a superstar”, softly at first, but rising into a crescendo of shouting at the end.
Suddenly I’m a new person, albeit with the exact same tendencies as before (purely by coincidence though).
Adjusting the tinfoil wrapped around my torso, I chuckle again, this time perhaps a little less-sensibly. I smile inwardly, and say quietly to myself, “Alright Adam. Let’s go save the world”. I post a photo of myself from a conference I was at recently, captioning it “Super great to be working with people changing the world at #GronkleConf2019!” Optimizing it with the latest SEO techniques, I feel confident that whoever needs to receive this message, will.
Exhausted by the sheer magnitude of energies and positive vibes I’ve been wrestling with this morning, I crawl back into bed, knowing I’ve earned both some more rest as well as the trust fund I live off of. I close my eyes and whisper softly my gratitude to myself. “You done good, kid.”
Until tomorrow, World.