Okay. So maybe I was going a leeetle bit fast as I came down off that Tennessee mountain. But certainly not more than anybody else. I was... I mean, hey! I'm just a regular hotdog, go with the flow, all-American boy. I'm doing exactly what everybody else does when they discover that they're driving a vehicle whose speedometer reads "zero" at any speed: Ignore it completely. "Zero" equals "broken" equals "not my fault" equals "innocent."

Anyway, there I was, coming down the mountain, mindin' my own business, when all of a sudden... wait a minute. At this point I need to explain something. There were, in conjunction with this particular mountain, and on this particular day, several other pieces of evidence. These pieces were, besides the business I was innocently mindin', rather insistently competing for my attention. Like a mosquito that buzzes around your nose, just out of reach. Small and irritating, but you have to consider it.

So I commenced to review what was known:

A) The flashing blue lights in my mirrors wouldn't go away.

B) The officer trudging toward me was looming larger and larger.

C) He was not happy

D) Something seemed to be attached to the officer on a long leash.

E) The lunging German Shepherd wasn't there to have fun with my tires.

Adding it all up, my eyes were shouting to my brain that an alternate belief system was about to announce its presence. And I'm thinking, this must mean I'm.. I'm.. TOAST! Oh, maaannnn . . BUT WAIT! In his book Living Deliberately, Harry Palmer writes about four types of belief systems. This is information I can use! This will help! This will.. .uh, will.. .but what are they?

Then it occurred to me. What am I doing?

More important, who am I being?



Quick, man, THINK! I swiftly recall the four food groups, the names of the fab four, four seasons, four directions, number of feet on an armadillo and the depth of the frost line above the 38th parallel... I CAN'T BELIEVE I CAN'T REMEMBER! What am I gonna do? Is this cop a type one, two, three or four? Can he be more than one? What if he's a type one and a type four? Is that even possible? Wouldn't that be just my luck.. .I mean, creation... Oh, maaannnn... I'm toast.

Then it occurred to me. What am I doing? More important, who am I being? I teach an incredible set of exercises, this fantastically effective nine-day course called Avatar. Why don't I apply these skills now? I've witnessed miracles. Hasn't my life been transformed? How many of my students have discreated genuinely fearful, tragic or traumatic problems in their own lives? They faced their creations with openness and vulnerability and triumphed. How could I now do less? Almost as a reflex, I shifted into a state of serenity, a state of awareness that is called in Avatar terms "source" or "pure beingness." The whole world was my home, and everyone in it a reflection of myself.

Yes! Here was an opportunity to meet someone who already had developed a considerable amount of willpower. Someone who was able, in fact, to greet me with more focused, undivided attention since... well, since the last time I'd been pulled over. But this time, he wasn't gonna get off easy. Not until he left with a Power Pack. Or at least got put on my mailing list as a potential student. I began to smile.

By the time his face peered warily into the cab I was feeling genuinely happy. However long it took, the impending conversation would sooner or later get around to exploring Avatar. I looked into his gray eyes with appreciation. They were intelligent and inquisitive and all business. Especially, all business. Yes sir. No sir. Yup. Nope. Nope. I could feel an underlying integrity in him. He was neither hostile nor unfair.

Admittedly, there were a few details that had to be discussed first. Due to a clerical error the U-Haul moving van paperwork did not list me as a driver. Only the lady who had enlisted me to move her furniture. Turns out, this is an important no-no. There were several other legal points that were being impressed upon me regarding driving someone else's stuff. Was I being paid? Well, yes. A little. And no, I didn't have a CDL trucker's license, eye exam, proof of physical, special insurance, DOT log book, carrier's permit, gas tax registry, license plates for every state I'd pass through... etc. Although he seemed rather keen to emphasize a certain line of thinking, I did manage to make a few remarks about getting this stuff safe and sound to our Avatar community in Missouri.

By now the sun had long gone down, and it was really getting dark. As headlights zoomed past I gave him my address, and he gave me his. I said I'd honor his request to send him some info about Avatar. We shook hands, and he gave me some friendly advice. Good advice, too, about speed limits and longevity. I sent him a copy of the Enlightened Justice Procedure along with a Power Pack just as soon as I got home.

Anyhow all's well that ends well. If you happen to catch me on my next trip through, I'd just love to tell you what happened  the next time I got stopped. Now there was a Creation! There were six or seven of us in the community van, see, and every one a Wizard 'cause we'd just finished the thirteen-day course in Orlando. Oh boy! Talk about a feeling of joy and happiness! Beyond description! Just wait till the whole planet is enlightened!

And, OK. So maybe I was going just a leeetle bit fast as I swerved out of the geezer lane to go around a pokey little Honda. Could'a been a Yugo. I dunno, it was about the size of a mosquito. Anyhow, it was about dark when all of a sudden...

If you are interested in turning "difficult" situations into opportunities for fun and creating new Avatars, you might want to contact Galen Chadwick. He and his partner, Beth White, founders of the Sarvis Point Avatar Community in the Missouri Ozarks, are licensed Masters and Wizards. They deliver The Avatar Course together every month at all points around the globe. They are also dedicated to assisting anyone who wants to explore creating an Avatar-based community of their own. Contact them at 417-935-9385 or Bethngalen@aol.com

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