Living directed

Every chapter in this book has said the same thing in a different language.

In the language of the brain: the prefrontal cortex can hold a direction, but under stress it goes offline, and the older survival system takes over unless something calls the driver back.

In the language of the body’s chemistry: at the center of the head is a small organ whose whole rhythm depends on responding to light it does not see directly.

In the language of stone: the Egyptians aimed a mountain at the stars that never set, and the Mishnah taught that Israel prevailed not because of Moses’ hands, but because they directed their hearts to their Father in Heaven.

In the language of leadership: the why at the center determines the energy of everything around it.

In the language of attention: what you aim at decides which part of the world reaches you.

In the language of Transurfing: whatever you face, for or against, has a hold on you.

In the language of physics and aikido: a body is stable when its center stays over its base, and a soul is stable when its center can carry its weight.

In the language of decisions: a compass does not choose your path, but it makes every fork easier.

A direction, not a destination you reach

The Godward Way is not a technique for arriving. You do not reach the Father the way a ship reaches a port. He is not an experience you achieve or a place you occupy.

Direction is different from arrival. It is available right now, in this moment, whatever your condition. You can be anxious and directed. Angry and directed. Exhausted, confused, grieving, distracted, and still directed.

This is the gift hidden in the Hebrew word kivun, direction, which shares its root with kavanah, intention. You do not have to fix yourself before you turn. Turning is the fix.

A simple practice

Here is the whole practice, in three movements.

Notice where you are facing. Several times a day, ask: what is my center of gravity right now? What is this moment orbiting? The deadline? The argument? The phone? Your own comfort? There is no need to judge the answer. Just see it.

Catch what arrives. When a strong emotion or desire rises, the surge of anger, the craving, the fear, catch it as it arises. Let observing consciousness recognize it. Do not suppress it. Do not obey it.

Offer it Godward. In the same moment, without waiting for the feeling to pass, let your intention turn toward the Father. Not toward an image of Him. Not toward a feeling of peace. Toward Him. The emotion becomes an offering instead of a master.

That is Catch and Offer. It takes no time, because it does not happen after life. It happens inside it.

Back to the fish tank

The fish tank is gone. Somebody else has it now, for thirty dollars less than I wanted.

The bigger story, the one about Montreal and the province we talked about, is still being written. I do not know how it ends. But I know now what was happening. A center of gravity had formed on its own, and our life was balancing around it.

That is the last lesson of this book, and perhaps the most important. You cannot live without a direction. You can only choose whether to name it.

If you do not choose, a job will choose. A pendulum will choose. A fear will choose. A pleasant fantasy will choose.

Or you can turn.

Not once, but again and again, in the middle of renovations and inboxes and arguments and long nights. Back toward the One who does not set.

You cannot live without a direction. You can only choose whether to name it.