No Place to Hide

by Opa Hysea Wise

  Smythe looked up to the heavens.

  “I have done everything—everything YOU have asked of me! And for what? I’m standing on this ledge, savings slowly dwindling, and everything I’m trying to manifest just sits there like a big fat blob! What do you want from me?!”

  The sound of her voice echoed off the rock face of the mountain, and she sat motionless for some time, her anger pulsating through her temples. She glanced around before lighting another cigarette.

  Artie sat in the passenger seat of Team 1’s vehicle. She squinted her eyes in the direction of Smythe, recognizing the angst. Although Artie had saved an enormous sum of money with several thousand more sitting in investments, she had plowed through nearly half of it in the first few months of her new business venture. She understood the frustration of being open for business and having no one knock on her door while watching her bank account dwindle to overwhelmingly uncomfortable levels. She understood the fear and the courage it took to keep plugging along in the face of unrelenting doubt. She also recognized the need to give yourself permission to pause for a moment and find your bearings. before doing the next thing that must be done—even in the face of bracing fear.

  “C’mon Smythe, you got this,” she quietly encouraged.

  Smythe faintly became aware of a word within her. “Patience.” She wanted to retort but held her tongue. She felt the presence of a deep abiding peace that emanated from an interior door of silence. It was a peace that beckoned her before her Beloved.

  Through this door, she dragged out her thoughts and feelings and gently laid them before her Beloved. Closing her eyes, she slowly began to disengage from them and settled into meditation. Here, in this space, she felt a deep sense of belonging. It was where her creativity, her strength, and her compassion for herself and others lived. This space provided an expansion of her being in the here-now.

  She inhaled a deep, slow breath, counting silently to the number four before releasing her breath to the count of eight. She repeated this several times, focusing on her breath to fully hear and feel her present moment—to feel the nature that surrounded her, breathing in peace and relaxation.

  Over time, she became aware of her higher self observing the compulsive, anxiety-ridden thoughts of her ego. She held a deep sense she was existing beyond the rattling noise of the voice which echoed through the chambers of her soul. For a time, with deep compassion, she chose to listen to what it had to say, holding space for that voice and all of its concerns.

  Her ego told her she was in pain. It was frightened; it did not want to go down the path she was leading anymore. That voice did not want to be patient, feeling it had been patient long enough and that it was high time she put things into motion. It also told her it was too late to be trying this experiment of a new self, and that she would fail. That voice held cynicism with its every thought.

  She took in additional slow breaths and released them. As she observed her thoughts, she realized her ego’s voice was starkly different from her Beloved. There was an incompatibility of what her thoughts and accompanying feelings said to the quietness of her being-ness. She quickly became aware of a tension within her body.

  She relaxed her shoulders, redirecting her focus to the energy she felt emanating within her hands rather than the onslaught of her ego, which, when given an inch, took a mile. Slowly, as she focused on the energy, her thought attacker faded into a whisper. She focused on her arms until, finally, she became aware that her whole body was alive with energy—her own electromagnetic field. Her ego had taken a silent backseat and the more conscious interdependence she felt with her Beloved began to emerge. Her Beloved whispered, “You are more than you imagine, and you have more to offer if you only would believe and release.”

  In her connection with her Beloved, she was reminded she consciously made a choice to draw closer to love and expansion rather than hopelessness and despair. For her, this was a path she had willingly chosen so many months ago.

  Smythe began to feel the discomfort creep through her body, and it was then she realized she was living in her discomfort zone. She remembered the school of thought that said we as humans will always find a way to remain comfortable. She understood that life. She also understood many others were living that life—a life lulled to sleep. Lulled asleep to the calling of their heart which all have been created for. She reasoned that this type of sleep kept people caged. Over time, and with constant lulling, it was possible to simply become accustomed to the cage. Yet, there is a time where someone is awakened—if it were only perceived as such.

  Her Beloved reminded her of the deep core restlessness, and she realized the angst she felt was the alarm bell to awaken her to the life that lay before her. Her willingness to open the door and jump from the cage of comfort allowed her to learn where her creativity, compassion, and awe and wonder lived. She knew they lived—and would always live—outside her comfort zone.

  Smythe finally understood she had to willingly be uncomfortable. She had to become uncomfortable facing her cultural programming, digging out the stories she was telling herself, facing her limiting beliefs, and then re-examine the lure of the story of the world and its various trappings.

  As she rested in her Beloved, she realized that even her smoking was a type of energy to regain a sense of comfort. It was self-sabotage that threatened to delay, if not derail her sense of full expansion. It held and soothed hopelessness and despair, offering only a toxic temporary reprieve. Although it lit the way as a pointer to something that was off emotionally, she began to recognize she could no longer allow the energy of the tobacco to maintain its grip over her. In that moment of inspiration, she decided to begin a prescription given to her months ago that offered hope to reduce her desire to smoke. Smythe reasoned it would give her a fighting chance to quit.

  The dawn continued to break into spectacular strands of orange, red, and golden hues. Smythe opened her eyes and watched the sky display its brilliance. As she continued to watch the majesty of the moment, she was struck by a completely different thought—a deep thought she had not allowed herself to ponder for years. A thought which came from her heart. She listened with interest and heard her heart say to her, I want a relationship outside friends and family.

  An unsettling tension began to creep into her body. She remembered thinking after an amicable separation from her long-time partner several years ago that she was not “good” in relationships; that she didn’t have what it took to sustain a “forever” love of another. She stuffed any desire for romantic connection into the deepest recesses of her heart long ago.

  Yet, here, in this moment, she heard her heart. Frustrated she had not reached out toward intimacy; to at least try again. She did not pretend to understand love; in fact, she thought of herself as a bit of a novice. Yet, for Smythe, there existed a deep longing to love another, to grow into a relationship, to have a real sense of belonging, and perhaps even to marry. It was this last thought of marriage that woke her up like a cold bucket of ice thrown over her head, drawing her quickly to the surface, away from the singing of her heart. Just as quickly as the thoughts had come, she discounted her heart and lit another cigarette.

  Smythe continued to watch the colorful remnants of the rising sun. It had been a spectacular showcase, yet she sensed it was now time to go. She slowly turned her head toward the car that held Artie and Team 1. She snuffed out her cigarette and opened her car door. As she exited, a member of Team 1 quickly headed toward her. She walked slowly toward Artie’s vehicle, and then stopped. She scanned her emotions and began to feel light-headed. Her hands were beginning to perspire, and her breathing shallow. She wondered what it was that she was afraid of.

  I can’t have the same sense of danger that Artie has.

  She took in a breath and stepped to the passenger side of the vehicle. Artie opened the car door.

  “Are you ready to leave?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Ok, we’ll caravan down. Once we’re
down in the valley, is there anywhere you want to go?” Suddenly hungry, Artie was mildly hopeful for a swing by the baker’s shop. Smythe tensed her jaw and put her hands underneath the bottom of her sweatshirt.

  Why the hell am I so nervous?!

  “Well,” Smythe finally said, “I was wondering if you might consider driving back down in my car? I’m sure everyone is hungry. We could make a plan for breakfast before I need to get to the day’s work.”

  Smiling brightly at Smythe, Artie replied, “Grabbing food is the first sensible thing you’ve said to me this morning.” She began to put one foot on the dirt pavement and then hesitated. “But I have a different request.”

  “Let me guess, malasadas to eat and take home?” Smythe said, laughing.

  It’s good to see her laughing, Artie thought.

  “Well, yeah, there’s that, but in all seriousness, I need you in the backseat of this vehicle. I really dislike like you driving, especially after the last incident.”

  There it is, Artie said to herself. Today will be Smythe’s final driving experience until after the trial. She observed Smythe and braced herself for the objection. The last thing Artie wanted was an argument that she was determined to win, even if it meant hurting Smythe’s feelings.

  Looking down at the dirt and shuffling her foot around the gravel, Smythe glanced up at Artie.

  “I can live with that. I knew it was coming, and I’m grateful you allowed me to drive this morning.”

  Artie nodded and mouthed, “Ok.” She got out of her teams’ SUV and opened the back door for Smythe. Smythe gave her car keys to Artie, who then handed them to a member of Team 1.

  “Retrieve her bag,” Artie said to the agent. She closed Smythe’s door and moved around the vehicle and joined her in the backseat. Dennis took the driver’s seat while his team member would be the bait centered between Teams 1 and 2.

  Along their return journey to the valley, Artie and Smythe remained quiet, allowing a peaceful silence to sit contently between them. Finally, Artie poked the silence.

  “I expected that you would have given me more grief about driving.”

  “I had time to think about it. My insistence on driving has been foolish. Yet, here’s the thing. I need a lot of Beloved time, Artie. Before you and your team came along, I spent a significant amount of time alone so that I could be as centered as possible every day. I’ve been used to just taking off and finding my way to a place and spending time in meditation and prayer. The thought of losing that seemed unacceptable to me, and, honestly, I didn’t want to change that part of my routine. I wanted—no, I needed some modicum of freedom. For that, I’m not sorry. Yet, I am sorry for not communicating to you what I’ve needed. You’ve really done a great job trying to protect me. I’ve been unreasonably bullheaded and have made your job difficult.”

  “Smythe, you can still have as much time as you need. You just need to tell me. Tell me what you need, and let me work up a plan. If what you want to do is too risky, I’ll let you know, and we can find a workable alternative—together.”

  Smythe nodded and peered at Artie with a side-eye. She wasn’t used to expressing her needs or wants, much less having someone want to accommodate them as much as possible. Artie sat back and simply nodded in response.

  That evening, Smythe noticed her ego berating her for not accomplishing more of the tasks she set out to do for the day. Sighing, she excused herself from Artie’s presence, wandering into the bathroom and closing the door. She looked into the mirror, deep into her own eyes, and the tears began to fall.

  “Would you berate your best friend like this had she not completed her task list?” Smythe said out loud to herself.

  No, of course not.

  “Then why won’t you treat yourself with the same compassion and love that you would offer to Susan?”

  For the first time, she recognized her first best friend had always been, and always would be, herself. Her epiphany opened a door of love and acceptance, settling lightly into her body. She apologized to her friend and offered, “You did a great job today. Y’all had a great breakfast! You accomplished what you needed to do. And with the knowledge skills and abilities available to you in the moments of the day, you did the best job that you could. I am proud of you, of who you are, and I love you.”

  It Was a Set-Up

  THE NEXT MORNING, SMYTHE’S BELOVED BECKONED AGAIN. SHE WAS about to retreat to her room, but a thought occurred to her. She walked out of her apartment and asked her detail to allow her to walk among the paths within the complex and keep a distance from her. They agreed, having already secured the complex.

  Smythe began a slow, deliberate walk along the paths. As she walked, she glanced around and noticed a breeze wafting through the leaves of birch trees scattered throughout. She stopped and stood, watching the leaves dance upon the current of the wind.

  “Where does the wind come from?” her Beloved asked.

  “I don’t know. It just is,” Smythe replied.

  “Ask the trees.”

  She looked to the trees. “Do you know where the wind comes from?”

  The tree branches did not move, yet the leaves seemed to answer. Smythe watched intensely, and she noticed they simply danced. If they could speak, she would have bet they would say, “We only know that there is a flow and that we are pleased to dance upon it.”

  Her Beloved spoke, “All life is connected to itself and to Me. Life must only dance to the flow. Understanding that all things given from Me offer to all both balance and harmony.”

  Smythe scrunched her nose.

  “Your vision is a vision I have planted within you. You must only dance to the rhythm of the flow of life in the present moment, and leave the rest to me.”

  “How? Everyone seems to have this notion to do, do, do?”

  “Notice the palms above the buildings compared to the trees hemmed in by the buildings. The current of the wind freely flows when above all things. Rise above what you see and come and see through my eyes.”

  “Yet, I am not as tall as the trees. Beloved, I am like the trees below which barely move—the ones that are hemmed in.”

  “You only believe that to be. Place your thoughts to my thoughts, above the circumstances which hem you in. Rise your mind to my mind. Meditate upon the trees. Notice they move in the direction of the current.” Smythe watched the palms overhead and noticed the leaves of the birch. They, too, moved along the direction of the wind.

  She remembered the baker’s words. “Your freedom is not the thing connected to attaining a goal—but that which lives within your spirit. Release the chain that binds you.”

  Later that morning, Artie left for an off-site meeting, and Smythe found herself alone. She took the time to view a webinar suggested by her mentor through an email. Unfortunately, after the webinar, she found herself becoming increasingly annoyed.

  “Damn it, damn it, damn it! This feels like a marketing ploy,” she said to her Beloved. “Tell me, was the initial investment for my training just another marketing ploy, too? One that bilks unsuspecting idiots like me out of money? I don’t have time for this, nor do I have the capital! I quit my job and started this business venture and the book on a wing and prayer. Was this you, or was it my torrid imagination? A kind of self-sabotage? I took all of my money out of my savings. I am doing everything I thought YOU wanted me to do! Was I wrong? Answer me!” She screamed so loudly that her throat began to burn.

  The words she had heard a thousand times before came quietly, gently into her consciousness once again.

  “Trust. Just trust.”

  Smythe was in no mood to listen.

  “To hell with it!! I don’t want it. I don’t want what YOU want!”

  She glanced at her kitchen wall clock. 1:30. She texted Artie.

  “I have errands to run—all in one place.”

  Geez, even my text is snappy.

  She paced, waiting for a reply. Within a few minutes, her security detail knocked on the doo
r, ready to escort her. As she sat in the back of their SUV, her Beloved reminded her no dream could be achieved unless she could make it a reality. Her Beloved also reminded her of what her mentor once said.

  “You’re not given a dream unless you have the capacity to do it. You might have to go back to school, or interview someone to find out how they got started, but it can be achieved.”

  Whatever.

  “Are you so willing to give up now? There is always a time of preparation. You have only just begun. Trust in my knowing, and do not give up,” her Beloved said.

  I’m not in a space where I want to hear this right now. With tears beginning to fill her eyes, she continued her conversation with Beloved.

  “You know what bothers me the most? It’s that his company endorsed this other guy. It feels like he was just offering a marketing thing for his next great adventure. Truly, that cuts like a knife. I mean, he does this amazing work. Why does everything have to be at such a high cost? Maybe that’s the way it works. I get it. He needs to earn money, but it leaves such a bad taste in my mouth.”

  Once parked, the security team escorted Smythe into the store. Smythe flashed her membership card to an employee at the entrance and pointed at her security detail, indicating they were with her. She stomped through a maze of aisles before arriving at the pharmacy department. While standing in line, Smythe allowed herself to get quiet enough to listen to her Beloved.

  “Regardless of how you perceive him, your dream to do the work I’ve called you to do is uniquely suited for you, and that’s all I will ask of you. What you have discovered is that this new program is not a good fit for you. Consider it a ‘no’ from me for now.”

  Smythe crossed her arms in front of her and stared down at the floor. Although enormously frustrated, she was also able to call herself out, admitting she was “storytelling” and exhibiting her old go-to behaviors—anger, blaming, and complaining. A bit embarrassed with herself, she examined the trio. She had to admit, instead of responding in ways that would positively feed her subconscious, she was reacting with survival emotions, which would only keep her stuck in her current situation with little forward movement.