What if it really was this simple?

I’m dredged from sleep at 3am by the sounds of wailing from outside the room, and a resigned groan from right next to me.

“What’s going on?”

Is all I manage to produce from the murk.

“Oh god, it’s all nonsense. I’ve been up twice already. She’s just awake and in one of those moods, you know. Trying to control stuff that’s already happened.”

We’ve been here before.

The “YOU SHOULD HAVE DONE IT THIS WAY AND YOU DIDN’T AND IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!!!” response. A sort of five year old’s version of the Kobayashi Maru test. You can’t win, so the quicker you get your inevitable demise over with, the better.

“I’ll go,”

I sigh, dragging myself out of bed and into her room, where the drama is elevated to new heights because she doesn’t want this parent, she wants the other one.

In the past, sleep deprived and disoriented, I’d have played the I’m-bigger-than-you card and gone in wielding authority as my weapon of choice. Get in bed. Stop this fuss. Do you know what time it is? That sort of thing.

I’d then watch, helplessly, as things spiralled out of my control. We’d go to actions and consequences. Threats of privileges withdrawn if she didn’t shape up. “No TV tomorrow” might work for a bit, but then the caterwauling would start up again in the dark and I’d have to drag myself back out of bed, this time accompanied by the realisation I’d just guaranteed a similar flare up later that day, when I had to follow through on my rights-revoked ultimatum.

I’d get cross. She’d be screaming. I’d be yelling. All at three in the morning. And however it got resolved, I’d be awake for the rest of the night, adrenaline pumping, mind churning. Why did these things happen? What the hell could I do differently? What sort of state am I going to be in tomorrow, now?

These days, however, I enter these situations armed with the following four facts, that help me to resolve any such fraught situation:

Fact One

Every human being on this planet—my daughter included, even at 3am—is experiencing a moment-to-moment, subjective, separate reality that’s created in its entirety from our inner, perceptual process.

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Key Message: 100% of our feelings come from (the Principle of) Thought. 0% come from our circumstances.

Fact Two

The extent to which we see this, in any given moment, determines the quality of our experience. If we’re lost in the illusion that it’s real—believing it to be objective reality, experienced the exact same way by everyone—then we’re under its sway. A ‘victim of circumstance.’

Fact Three

Each person is behaving in a way that is entirely congruent with however we’re seeing it in that moment. To quote Syd Banks,

“Everyone is doing the best they can given the thinking that looks real to them.” If we mistakenly believe the ‘outside’ world is causing us to feel a particular way, we’re going to do our best to control that. Why wouldn’t we? 🤷🏻‍♂️

Fact Four

Every human being on this planet has the capacity to see through this trick of the mind in an instant, let go of the seemingly concrete nature of thought, and relax back into their default state: calm, peaceful, present and safe from psychological harm, independent of circumstance.

It truly is all just one thought away.

✨

So, yawning my head off, armed with nothing more than love and understanding for my furious little munchkin, I sit on the floor next to her bed and we shake her snow globe – the most visible demonstration I’ve found for How Life Works™ to a five year old.

You've got one, haven't you? No?! 😱 Get a snow globe for your desk!!

The screaming continues, of course, but whenever she’s catching her breath, I gently remind her that she’s all shook up, and her ‘guide inside’ (personified by this placid-looking baby giraffe inside its glass globe of thought you can see at the top of this post) is waiting patiently for the storm to pass, and when it does it’ll help her get back to sleep too.

I remind her that thought storms are normal and I have them as well.

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I remind her that beneath all the shook-up thinking, it’s nice and quiet—always—and that knowing this is enough.

☺️

We have to go through a couple of iterations, of course, but each time I have to go back into her room, it’s without adrenaline; each time a gentle reminder of what’s going on, interspersed with reassurance that she’s ok, that I love her dearly and that she’s already got everything she needs.

The third time, after she’s calmed, I’m treated to something really special. As she lies there processing the situation, she starts getting revved up again, changes tack and protests, quietly and crossly,

“But Dad… it’s not fair!”

I pick up the snow globe one last time, shake it gently and tiredly observe,

“I know love. And the crazy thing is, that ‘it’s not fair’ feeling, well, that’s shook up thinking as well.”

As I stop and let the snow settle, I witness her rebooting in front of me.

Eyes glaze. System resets.

She’s just seen something fresh, and it’s brought her back to her wellbeing. Five year olds have the exact same capacity for insight as you or I, and it can strike at any time, in any situation.

A contented little grin appears on her face as she takes the globe from my hand, places it on the chair next to her bed, says,

“Night night Dad, twilight sparkle!”

…and snuggles into her teddy bear for the remainder of the night.

So…

What if it really was this simple?

What if, in each given moment, we have a choice? Buy into the thought storm, or let it pass?

What if our own ‘guide inside’—that connection to wisdom, common sense, true nature, call it what you want—was always there, waiting for us to see through the illusion, let go of the attachment to our busy-mindedness and relax back into our natural state of wellbeing?

Ever present to whatever’s right in front of us.

Free from resisting what is.

Good to go.

What would life be like then?

💟

Giles