Estella's Message to the World
Estella's Message to the World
Recently, I have been watching the chaos in the world unfold with wars, riots, and people fighting in stores across the nation. My heart aches as I witness humans hating each other with such fury and vitriol. Search YouTube for 'people raging in public' to observe ordinary people having psychotic episodes. The world is on fire, and our species is crying out.
I had a dream last night. I was sitting at a table listening to a man talk about the suffering in the world. Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with compassion. I told him that we needed to care for each other collectively. I stood up and gave him a warm, heartfelt hug. It was the sensation of a deep connection to humanity. I told him we need to mend our disagreements. Seek to listen and understand each other rather than yell and fight. Our world must reach out and empathize with our collective pain.
When I woke up, the message of Estella came to me. She was the little dragon lady featured in the last chapter of my biography who gave me a message for the world. If there ever was a time the world needed this simple message, it is now. Here's the story as it is written in my book. It starts from the part in the last chapter that introduces Estella. Unfortunately, my only picture of Estella (see banner) is her standing behind the mailbox where we would have our little spats.
BEARER OF KUNDALINI – PART 9
The following day, I woke up with the birds and resumed my morning routine of meandering around the house and yard. Coffee time with the Elfin tribe was always insightful and packed with exciting musings about the future. The daily ritual was to meet for coffee on one part of the patio, move the table to another part of the yard for noontime snacks, and then to the mud hole area into the evening. With each relocation, the table was organized very Zen-like, usually with an 'object of meaning' placed in the center. On this day, something quite unique was about to happen.
Estella, whom I nicknamed “Little Yoda Ninja Granny,” lived next door and had a daily ritual of meandering around her yard. She would move very slowly, step by step, with her walking cane and oxygen tank strapped to her back.
Estella and I had developed a mutual respect for not liking each other over the years. She habitually told me what to do in my yard, and I wasn’t favorable to her unsolicited advice. The two of us were pretty fine with this arrangement because, at the least, it was an honest dislike and mutually respectable quandary. As the saying goes, “You do not truly know someone until you have fought them.” I was having an energetic Kung Fu fight with a four-foot-tall Yoda Ninja Granny.
However, Shakti energy would have it no more. It was time to reconnect with this elusive oxygen tank-carrying master. Without forethought, I left the noontime gathering and meandered to the front of the house. I may have decided to check the mail when I saw Estella standing in front of her home.
Equipped with her four-pronged staff (walking cane) and her jetpack (oxygen tank), she stood there checking for speeding cars, mischievous children, and undisciplined neighbors. Even so, possessed by wonderment and curiosity, I meandered over to her.
“Hello,” I said with an elf-like tenderness. She looked up at me with bafflement, trying to figure out why I was standing before her. She replied with a reluctant tone, “Hello.”
The energy increased in intensity at this moment, and the two of us could feel something happening. Until now, we were not talking to each other and certainly not standing face to face.
I told her about a little leaf I found in my heart and the message it gave me. Brightened, she listened while her demeanor morphed from curmudgeon to curious child. I told her that the little leaf gave me a song and that she wanted me to play it for her.
With a strange mix of emerging wonder and puzzling excitement, she motioned yes to my invitation. I took her hand and walked ever so slowly, step by step, toward my house. Upon arrival, after traversing the front yard, I sat her down at the table of elves and took out my guitar.
Like a cool breeze in the evening appearing out of nowhere, the sounds of the strings swirled through her heart while the muse morphed into Tinker Bell, giggling with delight. The overtones from the magical tuning turned into Pixie Dust lighting up her eyes with wonder and beauty.
When the song was finished, everyone was quiet. Estella gave off a knowing vibe about all of this as if this was the world she lived in was waiting for everyone else to arrive.
I helped her back into walking position, and we set out on the long step-by-step journey back to her hobbit house next door. I thanked her for hearing my song and bid her goodnight.
The following morning, Duncan and I were reflecting on the experience with Estella and wondered how she was doing. So, we walked over to her house to see. Estella walked out of her front door without her cane and oxygen tank as we approached. Her countenance was glowing, her wrinkles noticeably softened, and her hair looked like she had just returned from the salon.
With the certainty of a wise crone, she said, “I used to sing many octave ranges when I was younger, but a child accidentally hit me in the neck, causing me to stop singing.” “But,” she asserted, “I can tell you the message.”
I eagerly listened.
To stop. Look and listen, is a lot of fun.
Stop, look, and listen is fun for everyone.
Then she motioned for me to put my finger on my lips and commanded, “Stop!” I quickly obeyed with finger to lips when she said, “Look,” positioning her fingers next to her eyes and, “Listen.” pushing her ears out like Dumbo the elephant, all of which I mimicked precisely like a child in a schoolroom. Then she resumed the message with:
. . . Now the fun’s begun.
Stop, look and listen, everyone.
Enchanted even more by this mystifying simple message and knowing what the profound implications would be if everyone in the world applied it, I asked her if she would sing it.
Quelled by my request, she reconsidered her decision never to sing again and gave it a try. She hummed the tune slowly, picking up pace until the words emerged from the melody. She kept hold of her throat as if singing would cause injury, with a look of remembering on her face.
When she got through the song, I thanked her for such a wonderful time and committed to a pizza lunch, by her request, under the tree in the front yard the following day.
Again, the next day, Estella came out of her house to greet the day with wonder and energy with no cane or oxygen tank, but this time she was singing.
“Good day to you, Estella.” “Good day, Zzenn. I have successfully recovered my voice.” “Really? Will you sing your 'message to the world' for me?” With the pride of a teacher singing to her students, she sang:
To stop. Look and listen, is a lot of fun.
Stop, look, and listen is fun for everyone.
Stop — look — and listen; now the fun’s begun.
Stop, look and listen, everyone.
Overjoyed by the child-like power of the melody and words, I asked permission to hug her. Estella said, “This one time, I’m not much of a hugger,” and embraced me lightly. I loved her honesty. She had her dragon intact and her heart well protected. But despite this well-built fortress, the powers of nature wanted Estella to come out to play and sing in the new dawning day.
Over the following year, Estella reduced her oxygen intake to the indoors, maintaining the freedom to explore her yard without the tank or cane. She made a new habit of pulling weeds on her knees down in the city drain in front of her house, which, might I add, intimidated some of the homeless elves wandering about. I told her that her mother’s prophecy about her bringing joy to the world had come true because I was publishing her “Stop, Look, and Listen” message in my book with one addition. The 19th Key is the final key given to me on my spiritual journey.
The 19th key: Stop, Look & Listen & practice asking “May I?”
To stop, look, and listen is the same as practicing the focusing method inward. Applying this to the people, places, and things in your environment puts you in a better position to consciously evolve and learn new things. It is more potent than it appears. Making a practice of asking, “May I?” before offering advice, opinion, or action is one of the best-kept secrets in personal conscious evolution. Try it. It empowers yourself and energizes others.
Remember that if you ask permission to give advice, an opinion, or do an action (such as a hug), ask it sincerely, expecting a “no” with the same resolve as a “yes.” I recommend practicing this with friends, inviting them to say “no” after asking “May I?” so you can sit with the feelings. It is a simple gesture with profound results.