Mina Bast said something like, “A Belief is like a song that gets stuck in your head. It keeps on going and going until you decide to sing a different song.”
Memories are similar to beliefs in that their effects keep going until you decide to shift to a different memory stream where the outcomes are shifted. So, with that in mind, I’d like to write about a memory and then shift it so the outcome shifts.
I was somewhere between ten years old and eleven years old. It was a Saturday evening at home with my Mom, Dad, Willy, (the tenant from our downstairs apartment) and me playing a board game sort of like Chinese Checkers where each player had 6 marbles in their beginning space and they had to roll a 1 or a 6 to get each marble in to play on the board. Once you had a marble in play, you advanced around the board toward the finish location by rolling 2 dice. The number you rolled determined how many spaces around the board you got to move. The object of the game was to get your 6 marbles into the home finish space before anyone else got theirs there. If you were playing teams, your team mate could help you and visa versa so you worked together to beat the other team to the finish. So, that gives you a vague idea of the game we were playing.
We were playing teams, so Willy and I were on one team, and Mom and Dad were on the other team. At some point during the game play, I decided to see if I could roll the numbers I wanted, so I’d shake the dice in my cupped hands, think of the number I wanted, then throw the dice on to the table. I would also say out loud something like, “I need a six, give me a six,” or some such thing. Anyway, when I started doing this, I was consistently rolling the numbers I wanted and as I progressed my marbles around the playing board, my Mom was getting more and more upset because she thought I was cheating. So she screamed very angrily at me “STOP IT!” Until that moment, I was as happy as I could be with myself, but once she screamed at me, it was as if the wind was drawn from my sails and I sort of went dead in the water so to speak. So, from then on, I didn’t try to make the numbers I wanted to roll come up. The game returned to random chance, and I don’t remember if we won or lost. I do remember, it wasn’t fun any more after that but I played anyway and did my best.
NOW, this is the alternate timeline I am now shifting to:
We were playing teams, so Willy and I were on one team, and Mom and Dad were on the other team. At some point during the game play, I decided to see if I could roll the numbers I wanted and needed, so when it was my turn, I’d take the dice, hold them in my cupped hands, think of the number I needed, then throw the dice on the table. I would say out loud something like, “I need a six, give me a six,” or some such thing. Anyway, when I started doing this, I was able to consistently roll the dice so the number I needed came up. At first my Mom was irritated that I was “cheating” but then that soon passed and everyone was amazed at how I was able to do that. When I would do it on purpose, they were all amazed and encouraged me to do it again, and again. We all lost interest in winning the game and everyone’s attention shifted toward trying to do this themselves. And do you know what? Once they each got the hang of it, my Mom, and Dad and Willy could all do it too. So, it was fun to play this game in this sort of a new way, and we all were delighted that we’d developed this awareness that we could do this thing. I think when we all went to bed that night, we each had a great appreciation for each other in that we’d shared a special time together, which turned out to be only the beginning of many more special times together.
Some time after that, Willy moved away. I don’t know where he moved to, but I did occasionally see him at the paint store he worked at. He always mentioned that night by cupping his hands together, shaking them in front of his face and saying something like, “give me a six!” and then laugh.
I cast this envisioning out to the universe, lets see what happens.