Good evening everyone and thank you for spending your time with me tonight. Despite the world’s uncertainty, I am more balanced (mind, body, and spirit) than I ever have been. My path is on track to manifest elevated consciousness through imagination, consistency, and discipline.
Once or twice a week I ride my bike to the Southport waterfront and spend time with my friend Tom. Tom is a fifth grader—the son of Miranda (the main character of my novel). I was sitting alone on one of the benches when he introduced himself.
“Do you know what kind of boat that is?” He asked and pointed toward Oak Island, where a small sloop blended between the beach houses.
I could barely make out the shape of the sails. “A sloop.” I replied. “Where is your mother?”
“She allows me down here,” he said, “we live on River Rd.”
“What’s so important about the sailboat?” I said.
His stare focused on his shoes and his cheeks became blush red. “I’m looking for a schooner,” he said, “my grandpa is the captain of a schooner and he’s on his way home.”
I invited him to sit with me and we watched the horizon together. I didn’t have the heart to tell him schooners don’t come around often anymore.
“Does the river ever speak to you?” Tom said after sitting silent for a spell.
I looked at him.
“The Captain says if you are patient, the river will speak to you.” Tom said before I could reply. “But you have to be quiet—even more silent than the wind and tides.”
We sat, both of us listening, being as quiet as we could be. Almost an hour passed before we spoke again.
“Did you hear it?”
“Yes,” I said, “the river called on me to be more present—to allow myself to flow outwardly into the universe, just as the river loses itself in the ocean.”
“That’s not what I heard,” Tom said, “you are making that up. The river told me to rest—a storm is coming. That is the river’s message today.”
“Why would I make that up?” I said.
“It is not what I heard.”
I smiled. “Just because our interpretations varied, does not take away the truth of either message.”
Tom looked confused and I remembered he is only eleven. I thought of simpler terms.
“You heard one message and I heard something similar, but different.” I said. “This does not mean either of us are wrong.”
“But we listened to the river together, we heard the same things.” Tom said, “maybe the river doesn’t speak at all and we are both just pretending.”
“But the river spoke to both of us.” I said. “Just because the messages were different does not mean we created them in our heads. Rather than disproving the river’s ability to speak, we have proved the claim to be even truer than before. We were not meant to hear the same message, because our lives are different. We have different relationships with the river. This shows that not only can the river speak, it speaks to each of us individually.”
Much like my friend Tom, many people believe that because we have different perspectives, one of us has to be wrong and the other right. You see divinity one way and I another, but neither of us are wrong. God gave each of us an eternal message in our hearts, one we are meant to discover and manifest in our time on earth. Our interpretations of these messages shape the way we live and see the world. Look at the way we carry ourselves and you will see how each of us interpret this message from God.
The fact we all have an individual interpretation does not disprove the messenger, rather magnifies the excellence we were created to be—a way of seeing God that no one else has ever experienced—an individual relationship with the Creator.
As we continue to have an abundance of time, I urge everyone to turn their attention inward. Find a personal interpretation for why you are here. No one can answer this question but you. Be silent. Even quieter than the wind and tides—what do you hear?
Guidance, Blessings
Capt. BZ