Innsbruck Dispatch a do

Innsbruck Dispatch ~ .a dó

Just to bring you up to speed on my quantum shifting adventure (see my first Innsbruck dispatch ~ .uimhir a haon. (Irish for number one.))
I was exploring the possibility of bringing a version of me into being who, at the age of 60 goes from living like a hermit to traveling internationally alone, being a digital nomad for a month in Innsbruck, and doing a spot of skiing at the weekends.

As you might remember I had a full body, “Yes,” about the whole endeavor. The next steps involved multiplicity, waiting, and oracles.


Have you ever lost an argument badly, then later that night you think of all the great things you could have said?
You run and re-run little bits of the argument and each time you sound better and better.
“You can’t handle the truth!” You shout triumphantly from atop the kitchen table, your finger jabbing the air like a lightsaber. Then, while you are at it, you take the opportunity to lay some home truths on the person and really give them a piece of your mind.
And all this while you are lying in bed glaring at the ceiling. 

Have you ever had an argument with yourself? An argument where you were doing all the same things, but just without another person involved. You say something stupid at a party, for example, and then later that night go to war with yourself about it? 
It is so common, right?
But how can it be? 
Who are we arguing with?

I am We

From the outside, I appear as a single unit – one mouth, one nose, one set of eyes, and so on. Just like you. All our lives we have been encouraged to think of ourselves in this way. “My life.” “My body.” “I am this.” “I am that.” “This is mine.” “I own that.” “This is how I feel.” “What do I think? Let me tell you.”

On the inside, it is a different story. On the inside, there are many different parts of us and sometimes it can be a riot. 
This is not news. Somehow we know this. It is not unusual to hear people say things like,
“One part of me wants to say, ‘yes,’ while another part of me says, ‘no.’”
or “I was in two minds about that.”
or “I am torn between these two things.”
What appears as a single unit on the outside is really just a matter of which part of us has the microphone at the time. 

Just to be clear, I am not talking about mental health disorders which are a whole other thing. I am talking about the common experience we all have of arguing with ourselves on the inside and wondering who is arguing with whom. 

What I discovered is that not only are there many different parts of me on the inside, but some parts are more conscious than other parts. It has something to do with depth. The deeper parts of me are more conscious than the more frontal or surface parts of me. 
The deeper parts don’t talk too much and instead communicate with images and feelings of intuition. 
The frontal parts, on the other hand, use words, lots of words and they are the parts that interact with the world, book airline tickets, Airbnb’s etc. 

All these different parts can get into all sorts of fights with each other, with enforced hierarchies and notions of higher selves and lower selves and everything in between. None of which I have found to be helpful.

Monarch Squadron

There is an old saying about public speaking that the trick to it is not trying to get rid of your butterflies, but instead to help them fly in formation.

I discovered that for sustainable growth in consciousness, and overall happiness, I needed to find a way for all parts of me to move forward in consciousness together.

I found compassion is the key. Finding gentle and kind ways for the less conscious parts of me to move in the direction that the deeper parts of me have communicated is the right direction for me to go in. 

I would like to say that being compassionate to the less conscious parts of me came naturally, it didn’t. I discovered it the hard way through years of berating, cajoling, abusing, and lacerating the less conscious parts of me and trying to drag them forward regardless of their kicking and screaming in terror.

Overlooking the very obvious fact that they can’t be forced to do anything and if they are triggered enough will just take over and do what they want anyway.

The situation I found myself in last autumn is a good example of how I am with the different parts of me now and how I work with them in practice.
While I was getting a full body, ‘Yes,’ from the deeper parts of me about going to Innsbruck, the frontal, or less conscious, parts were not so sure and when I say not sure, I mean shitting themselves.


I have found that the most helpful thing to do in these situations is to wait and let the energy of inevitably build. 

Waiting means different things to the different parts of me. 

To the anxious, less conscious, parts of me, I am saying, 
‘I acknowledge you are anxious. All is well right now. Nothing is happening right now. No decisions have been made. It is all just an idea at the moment. We are not going do anything until we get some sort of external encouragement or feedback one way or the other.’

To the deeper, more conscious, parts I am saying, 
‘I acknowledge your communication about going to Innsbruck. I get it. I also receive as part of that communication that there is nothing to be done right now. The wave is coming and I will be ready to ride it when it is here.’

The same action is happening for the different parts of me – waiting – but it means a different thing to each part.

Waiting also fits with what I learned about my human design which is about, “Waiting and not acting prematurely. Slowing down and not applying a sense of urgency to everything I do.”

So I waited for the energy to build both within me and outside me. It sounds easy but it was not.

While we are waiting, let me tell you about German supermarket chains in Ireland. 
Buddha, as you know, was very fond of the middle way or the central path. I had the centre aisle.

The Centre Aisle

There are two German supermarket chains that operate in Ireland. One is called Aldi and the other Lidl. They are practically identical.

There is a great story that they are owned by a pair of brothers who had a falling out and are now engaged in an epic battle of competition and rivalry. 

It is not actually true, but it is a great story and has the feeling of being true because they operate as if they are in a titanic battle. For example, if Aldi open a supermarket in a small town it won’t be long before Lidl open one across the road. And similarly, if Lidl open a store, Aldi won’t be far behind.

The interior layout of these stores are practically identical, and strange, at least by Irish supermarket standards. They have all the usual things you would expect in a supermarket, food, meat, vegetables, bread, laundry detergent, and so on. What is unusual is the central aisle. 

The central aisle is like another dimension, a strange and wonderful place where you can buy the most random things like a table saw or a wetsuit, an arc welder, or a television.

There is a joke about a man who ran into Aldi to quickly get a pint of milk on his way home from work, an hour later he emerged with an angle grinder, three champagne flutes, a wetsuit, and no milk.

My pet theory is that Aldi and Lidl are secretly trying to keep marriages together because it is surprising to see the number of couples who go grocery shopping in these stores together. The central aisle beckons them both. Throw rugs and assorted screws, cast-iron cookware and engine inspection lights. There is something for everyone.

What is even stranger about the central aisle is that the products are always changing. They come in waves and themes and seasons. In the summer they will sell wetsuits and stand-up paddle boards, and in spring it will be garden furniture and seed trays.

While I was waiting and holding the energy for my Innsbruck quantum shift, Lidl started selling ski equipment. When I saw that I knew the time had come.

The Oracle Helmet

You may not have noticed this about me but I have a big head. Not in an egotistical sort of way, though I am not the best person to evaluate that, but in a physical way. 

Normally I don’t think about it but as you know, in the course of a man’s life, he goes through many phases and ways of being. One phase that nearly all men go through is a flirtation with hat-wearing. 

If it doesn’t happen in day-to-day life it nearly always happens on holidays. Maybe it is the sun, maybe it is the sea, the exotic spices in the breezes, who knows, but when on holiday you will find the most conservative of men trying on hats and asking themselves that eternal question, “Can I pull this off?” Not the hat, the look.

For me, the answer was always, “No. No, you can’t pull that off. Put it back on the rack now.” It is a remarkable thing but the most stylish of hats on the rack or in the hand, when on my head, will look like the tiny bowler perched on the top of Mr. Potatohead.
As soon as the hat was off my head, both the hat and my head return to normal. It was like one of those photos where they place a person beside something huge like the pyramids to give you an indication of scale. Hats tend to have the same effect on my head.

It is the same with sunglasses, they have to be the size of patio doors otherwise the most stylish of sunglasses end up making me look like Geppetto or an obese John Lennon.

As I sat outside Lidl in my car, I made a deal with all parts of me that if there was a ski helmet in the store that fit me then the Innsbruck trip would be on. If not, I would forget about the whole thing.

The less conscious parts agreed to the deal because it would be a clear external indication of what the deeper, more conscious parts were advocating for. 
The deeper parts agreed to it, because if they couldn’t organize a simple thing like a ski helmet that fit me then they needed to go back to the drawing board about the whole quantum shifting thing in the first place.

This was the arrangement I made with all parts of me before I got out of the car to go and see.  Between you and I, there was a deeper process going on behind this arrangement. One I have applied on numerous occasions with great effect.


I don’t know about you but I consider tarot cards, rune stones, the I-Ching, using a pendulum, throwing dice, or flipping a coin all under the category of oracles. I know a lot of the above are used for divination or future telling or other aspects that are slippery slopes into the psychic world but I don’t use them for anything like that and I don’t recommend you do either. 

I use oracles the way I would a mirror, to get another perspective. I am not so much interested in the result of the oracle itself but I am very interested in how I feel about the result.

For example, if I am trying to make a decision, and I feel equally about both sides of the decision, I will use an oracle to help me get some clarity about what my real preference is. 
The simplest oracle is flipping a coin.
I say, ‘heads,’ I will do, ‘A’ and, ‘tails,’ I will do, ‘B,’ and then I flip the coin.

While the coin is in the midair I am monitoring my internal state closely. What I am looking for is what my reaction is to the result of the coin toss. 
Before the coin toss, I think I feel equally about both sides of the decision. 
If the coin lands in favor of, ‘A,’ and I notice I am disappointed by the result then that shows me that I really wanted to do, ‘B.’ 
On the other hand if the coin lands in favor of, ‘A,’ and I am delighted, then that shows me that I actually wanted to do, ‘A.’

Once you use oracles in this way you can use anything as your own personal oracle. As I sat outside Lidl a part of me knew I was using the ski helmet as an Oracle to see how I really felt about acting on the whole quantum shift.

Rarely is life like a movie, but this was one of those times when it was. It felt like the whole sequence was in slow motion. The soundtrack would have been, “Thus Spoke Zarathustra,” the famous piece of music used for the opening sequence of, “2001: A Space Odyssey.” You know the bit at the start with the apes and the bone . . . . .
Anyway, back to my moment. 

I got out of my car and walked into Lidl. I strode purposefully down the central aisle to where the ski equipment was. I picked up the first ski helmet that came to hand, took it out of the box, and like Napoleon crowning himself, I placed it on my head. It fit like a glove.
The music crescendoed and there was a party inside me.
All parts were on board and delighted.
I was going to Innsbruck.

to be continued . . .








Photo by Frederik Rosar on Unsplash


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *