Can You Hear Me Now

When you get to a place where you understand that love and belonging, your worthiness, is a birthright and not something you have to earn, anything is possible.

Brene Brown

Have you read Carlos Castaneda’s The Teachings of Don Juan?  It is the story of the author’s spiritual journey as guided by the Yaqui Indian shaman, Don Juan.  It was extremely popular in the 1960s and 1970s partly due to its departure from the western world’s sense of spirituality and because of its drug use.  Don Juan used peyote and the mescal cactus to induce a sense of euphoria that allowed him to get in touch with his inner consciousness.  He would literally leave his physical being behind and become closer to being one with the universe.

Don Juan tells Castaneda that everyone has a spot — a place of power, wisdom, and clarity of mind.  When Castaneda finally finds his spot, it turns out to be a place on the wooden floor of his house not much bigger than his seated body.  There was nothing outwardly fancy or fantastic about his spot, but it was the place where he was able to channel his energy to overcome his inner, and in the case of the book, outer demons.

As I thought about this I realized that I too have a spot.  It is unadorned and the world passes it by without giving it more than a glance. To me, though, it is practically sacred.  As I recall from the book you are not supposed to divulge the location of your spot lest you open yourself up to harmful spirits, but since I have no fear of ghosts or the boogieman, I’ll tell you mine. 

Facing my house, it is on my front porch at the base of the right column just above the steps down to the sidewalk.  I was drawn to this spot almost immediately after buying the house.  It is where I sit and play banjo on a warm summer evening.  It is where I converse with Linda as she sits at the porch table.  It is where I plant myself and do nothing other than think about life.

In The Teachings of Don Juan, Castaneda used his spot to protect himself from evil spirits that were awoken by his venturing into the world that exists beyond human consciousness.  Thankfully, I don’t need such protection, but I do need a place to retreat to when I am feeling surrounded by my own inner demons.  My spot offers me a sense of peace and shelter that no other place does. 

I’ve tried playing banjo at my kitchen table.  The music is the same, but the peace of mind is not.  The same goes for my back porch, my bedroom, and even the base of the left porch column.  The banjo is superfluous — it’s the spot that matters.

Where is your spot?  Did you find it without realizing its significance?  Do you have more than one spot?  I believe that you don’t choose the spot.  Rather, the spot chooses you.  Mine chose me without any consultation on my part.  I expect that those of you who have found your spot will understand. And if you haven’t found yours, keep looking. It’s worth it.

A twitch
a desire
a tiny spot of nothing
it lies dormant and undemanding
until something or perhaps nothing
gives it a shake
a poke and a twitch
until the spot grows unbounded
unrelenting
until you are consumed with want
want that becomes need
and that spot
that nothing
greedily devours all that once was you