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Using ‘The System’ Without Knowing It

Saturday, 9 June, 2012 (posted 3 August, 2012)

We have been talking here about Work as a part of our life, and last week I talked about never working at a job you hate…and to know that if you yearn for what you wish to do, and then go for it, things always work out in the end.

I need to admit now that I did not understand all this myself until I was in my 50s, after my conversation with God experience. Before then I thought I had been just “lucky.” I thought I just managed to catch all the breaks. I thought myself extremely fortunate; one of those people for whom things always seem to work out.

Only after my conversations with God did I realize what had been going on all those years, from the time I was 19. It was my attitude. It was all about the energy that I had historically put out. It was the way I thought about it. I thought that I was an uncommonly lucky person and so I was. I thought that things always work out, and so they did.

I had been using a system. Inadvertently. Unknowingly. But effectively.
It turns out that the way you think has an enormous effect, perhaps even a disproportionate effect, on the way you live. Very early in my conversations with God I was told that there are three Tools of Creation. These are Thought, Word, and Action.

The use of these tools throws our focus on what it is that we choose from what Deepak Chopra calls “the field of infinite possibilities.” How you experience your life depends on how you look at it. If you look at it as a constant stream of difficulties and challenges, messes and problems, it will show up that way. If, on the other hand, you see it as a continuing flow of good fortune, one good thing after another, that is what you will encounter.

In life, it really is a case of “what you see is what you get.” Even when so-called “bad” things have happened to me, I always had a sense that everything would ultimately work out. And work out, I might add, in my favor.

And they always did.

Even my time as a homeless person worked out. True, it took a year, during which I lived in a tent at a campground populated largely by vagrants, but everything began ultimately falling into place, and today I see the time that I spent panhandling on the street as one of the most pivotally important passages of my life.

The Holy Experience for me as it pertains to my work or my chief life activity came when I realized that Life is on my side; that Life always works out for me not because I’m one of the lucky ones, but because Life is always working out for everyone, and that I’m simply one of the few who sees it that way.

I came to this realization after the age of 50, following a half-century of day-to-day occurrences on this planet and, not coincidentally, following my conversations with God experience. Because of that experience I now see every outward circumstance, every Exterior Event, as being for my benefit.

I may not see or recognize or understand the benefit right then and there, in the moment something is happening, but I know deep inside that everything that is happening is happening for my own good.

My life has shown me that. More than once I have undergone an experience that I thought, at the time, was the worst thing that could ever happen to me–only to realize, after the passage of time, that it was one of the best things that ever happened to me; that if it had not happened, the good things that were happening to me now could not be happening!

This is really an amazing revelation. It’s a sacred, really…a sacred realization.

May I continue with this conversation with you next week? I hope you will join me then.

Hugs and love,

Neale

from: http://spiritlibrary.com/neale-donald-walsch/using-the-system-without-knowing-it

Herman Melville (1819–1891). Bartleby, the Scrivener. 1853.Bartleby, the Scrivener: A Story of Wall-street

I AM a rather elderly man. The nature of my avocations for the last thirty years has brought me into more than ordinary contact with what would seem an interesting and somewhat singular set of men, of whom as yet nothing that I know of has ever been written:—I mean the law-copyists or scriveners. I have known very many of them, professionally and privately, and if I pleased, could relate divers histories, at which good-natured gentlemen might smile, and sentimental souls might weep. But I waive the biographies of all other scriveners for a few passages in the life of Bartleby, who was a scrivener the strangest I ever saw or heard of. While of other law-copyists I might write the complete life, of Bartleby nothing of that sort can be done. I believe that no materials exist for a full and satisfactory biography of this man. It is an irreparable loss to literature. Bartleby was one of those beings of whom nothing is ascertainable, except from the original sources, and in his case those are very small. What my own astonished eyes saw of Bartleby, that is all I know of him, except, indeed, one vague report which will appear in the sequel.	1
Ere introducing the scrivener, as he first appeared to me, it is fit I make some mention of myself, my employées, my business, my chambers, and general surroundings; because some such description is indispensable to an adequate understanding of the chief character about to be presented.	2
Imprimis: I am a man who, from his youth upwards, has been filled with a profound conviction that the easiest way of life is the best. Hence, though I belong to a profession proverbially energetic and nervous, even to turbulence, at times, yet nothing of that sort have I ever suffered to invade my peace. I am one of those unambitious lawyers who never addresses a jury, or in any way draws down public applause; but in the cool tranquillity of a snug retreat, do a snug business among rich men’s bonds and mortgages and title-deeds. All who know me consider me an eminently safe man. The late John Jacob Astor, a personage little given to poetic enthusiasm, had no hesitation in pronouncing my first grand point to be prudence; my next, method. I do not speak it in vanity, but simply record the fact, that I was not unemployed in my profession by the late John Jacob Astor; a name which, I admit, I love to repeat, for it hath a rounded and orbicular sound to it, and rings like unto bullion. I will freely add, that I was not insensible to the late John Jacob Astor’s good opinion.	3
Some time prior to the period at which this little history begins, my avocations had been largely increased. The good old office, now extinct in the State of New-York, of a Master in Chancery, had been conferred upon me. It was not a very arduous office, but very pleasantly remunerative. I seldom lose my temper; much more seldom indulge in dangerous indignation at wrongs and outrages; but I must be permitted to be rash here and declare, that I consider the sudden and violent abrogation of the office of Master of Chancery, by the new Constitution, as a —— premature act; inasmuch as I had counted upon a life-lease of the profits, whereas I only received those of a few short years. But this is by the way.	4
My chambers were up stairs at No. — Wall-street. At one end they looked upon the white wall of the interior of a spacious sky-light shaft, penetrating the building from top to bottom. This view might have been considered rather tame than otherwise, deficient in what landscape painters call “life.” But if so, the view from the other end of my chambers offered, at least, a contrast, if nothing more. In that direction my windows commanded an unobstructed view of a lofty brick wall, black by age and everlasting shade; which wall required no spy-glass to bring out its lurking beauties, but for the benefit of all near-sighted spectators, was pushed up to within ten feet of my window panes. Owing to the great height of the surrounding buildings, and my chambers being on the second floor, the interval between this wall and mine not a little resembled a huge square cistern.	5
At the period just preceding the advent of Bartleby, I had two persons as copyists in my employment, and a promising lad as an office-boy. First, Turkey; second, Nippers; third, Ginger Nut. These may seem names, the like of which are not usually found in the Directory. In truth they were nicknames, mutually conferred upon each other by my three clerks, and were deemed expressive of their respective persons or characters.
	7
…….
	14
Now my original business—that of a conveyancer and title hunter, and drawer-up of recondite documents of all sorts—was considerably increased by receiving the master’s office. There was now great work for scriveners. Not only must I push the clerks already with me, but I must have additional help. In answer to my advertisement, a motionless young man one morning, stood upon my office threshold, the door being open, for it was summer. I can see that figure now—pallidly neat, pitiably respectable, incurably forlorn! It was Bartleby.to read the rest, go to: http://www.bartleby.com/129/

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Using ‘The System’ Without Knowing It

Story Time: Melville’s Bartleby