One of my long-time favorite movies is Groundhog Day. In this enlightened and humorous little story, Bill Murray is a television reporter who becomes magically stuck. Every morning he wakes up at 6:00 a.m. on the same day, Groundhog Day. From the moment he wakes up, the exact same sequence of external events begins to occur. The only thing that changes from one day to the next is Bill’s own internal attitude, namely how he chooses to perceive and respond to every situation throughout the day.
In the beginning, Bill’s character has what one could call a very negative attitude, being filled with harsh judgmental perceptions of the local people and culture. He loathes every day, treats people rudely, and even actually kills himself in many creative ways—hoping to end his misery—only to wake up all over again on the very same morning.
Gradually, Bill shifts from his negativity into a more loving way of perceiving. Eventually, over time, he approaches pure unconditional love in every possible way—through his attitude, his perceptions, and in the way he treats and responds to others. With each repetition of the day, he deepens his personal quest to find loving perfection.
For me, this movie teaches a deep spiritual message—a message about how our perceived world actually is our own unique creation. Every moment of each day presents us with opportunities to practice perceiving and responding with love—or not. Our true peace and happiness, our deep inner joy, is a natural consequence of finding a loving response in every situation. On the flip side, stress, anger, victimization, and the like, are natural consequences of choosing to respond to life from a place of perceived fear and judgment.
Jungle Revisited
With this concept in mind, I set out yesterday to take another stab at a creating a peaceful, relaxing adventure into the wilds of this beautiful Cozumel jungle. Without feeling even the slightest ounce of fear, my inner voices were telling me I needed to venture a little deeper into the jungle … stay a little longer … and surrender to whatever happens. My sixth sense told me this would not be an ordinary trip.
When Thursday morning rolled around, I somehow knew that “Today is the day.” While packing for the trip, an intuitive feeling—based on a memory flash regarding Sunday’s storms—caused me to wrap my wallet, camera and IPOD in waterproof plastic bags—something I had never thought of doing in the past.
Knowing I was headed into a mosquito infested jungle, I also took precautions with insect repellant. I coated my clothing with the spray, allowing it to briefly dry before getting dressed. Rather than my usual sandals and capris, I wore long jeans and hiking shoes. Just prior to leaving, I covered every ounce of my bare skin and hair with a thorough coating of repellant—being careful to keep the toxic spray out of my eyes.
After securing my front door and unlocking my bicycle, my attention was immediately drawn to a lady passing by on the sidewalk. Ignoring everything else about her, my eyes were pulled to the umbrella that she was carrying in her hand. Even though the skies were blue and cloudless, a small feeling told me “Go back upstairs and get your own umbrella—you will want it on this trip.”
Mind you, I have never before carried an umbrella on my bicycle rides—but I have learned to trust these little feelings. During moments when I am paying attention, I have recognized profound intuitive hints in many different ways: Songs on the radio, billboards on the freeway, words spoken by a friend (or total stranger), unexpected memories of something from the past, sudden emotional feelings, or just little subtle thoughts that seem to come out of nowhere.
When I am aware and willing enough to be the observer in such moments, I immediately recognize a quality that says “this event was for you … pay attention.” Such was my morning. I was in a deep state of spiritual reflection, paying attention to the tiniest of thoughts as they flashed into my awareness.
From the moment I first hopped onto my bicycle, I was filled with an internal presence that had been absent on Sunday. As I began to pedal through the streets, my mind was not obsessed with a destination—I was focused instead on each moment of the experience, constantly paying attention to the subtle details of my surroundings and the weather.
Soon I had traversed the few miles of highway and was engulfed in the beautiful details of life surrounding the small dirt road at it guided me northward. As I neared the northern end of the road, as the lush green jungle vegetation gradually closed in around me, I noticed a few scattered dark clouds off in the distance. Even though the clouds were not directly above me, an occasional drop of scattered rain found its welcome way to my warm face or forearms. Throughout the ride, I remained relaxed, breathed deeply and slowly, and continued to methodically pedal at a gradual pace. The journey was ever so peaceful—seeming to pass very quickly.
Minutes later, shortly after passing the final ranch home, a light spattering of rain began to hit the ground. As the intensity of the drops slightly increased, I paused my journey, opened up my backpack, and removed my precious umbrella. With one hand holding my umbrella, the other on my handlebar, I slowly continued forward until my coordination reached its limits—the jeep trail being so rough that one-handed riding was beyond my abilities.
At this point, I began one-handed pushing, loving the feeling of being in the jungle during a light rainstorm. While continuing to walk slowly, I noticed a swarm of mosquitoes gathering around me as I felt the familiar sting of a few fresh bites on my arms. I swatted at them, both with my arms and my umbrella, hoping they would leave me alone—but the mosquitoes continued to wildly invade my space.
In a brief moment of panic, I turned around and began walking the other way. “I’m done!” I told myself. “I can’t handle these mosquitoes. I give up.”
As I slowly walked away, I focused on spiritually re-centering myself. Seconds later, I again paused, retrieved my insect repellant, and drenched my already dripping skin and hair with a fresh layer of the smelly spray. After a few deep breaths I told myself “I know I was guided to be out here today … I CAN do this … I DO have the faith to follow my feelings … a few mosquitoes will not stop me.”
Resuming my journey northward, I slowly pushed my bicycle over the rough bumpy rocks, ruts, and roots. The mosquitoes seemed to be mostly leaving me alone, although I noticed large numbers of them swarming around above my head, underneath the umbrella. They seemed to be attracted to the silver metallic fabric of my red umbrella’s inner lining. Each time after I swung the umbrella around to shake them off, the swarm was soon back, gathering in large numbers within mere seconds.
Giving up on chasing the mosquitoes away, I began to wonder if perhaps the umbrella was distracting my new companions from landing on me. Regardless, I noticed that for the time being, they were not biting. Feeling happy and content, I continued forward.
Minutes later, the rain let up; the sky appeared to be turning blue once again. Putting away my umbrella, I again continued to gently inch forward, still pushing my bicycle with one hand. As I rounded a small bend, I came upon the familiar shack with the tiny pen full of goats. The loud bleating sounds of goats echoed throughout the jungle during the brief seconds that it took me to pass them by. Glancing into the jungle to my left, I caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a tiny makeshift home perhaps 50 yards deeper into the trees.
After another hundred yards, the trail again turned left and narrowed dramatically. Minutes later, I reached the spot where I had given up in exhaustion on Sunday afternoon. I was not giving up this time—I was energized, alive, and excited about continuing onward.
Suddenly, another small swarm of mosquitoes buzzed around me, and I soon had several more few fresh bites on my arms and forehead. In yet another brief moment of panic, I again turned around and began walking away. “I cannot do this … I give up … I will NOT stay out here in these mosquitoes … this is insane!”
A short internal debate erupted in my soul, as I argued with myself—back and forth. Only minutes later, my spiritual intuition again won, as my voices reassured me “Come on … you know how you were guided every step of the way to come out here … you know it … you can do this … this is going to be a wonderful experience … it all depends on your attitude and perception … period.”
For the second time, after again coating my hair and bare skin with additional insect repellant, I resumed my journey northward—slowly pushing my bicycle up what was now hardly even a trail. Soon I leaned my bicycle against a tree and continued a short distance on foot. I knew my journey was almost over—not because I was giving up—but because the trail was obviously disintegrating. I walked perhaps another fifty yards before coming up on some large logs that had fallen over the tiny trail. Hints of a trail continued, but those hints were disappearing rapidly into thick jungle overgrowth.
As I have done many times in the past, I gradually settled into a meditative state, internally knowing that I would be here for a while. There was no 
place to sit, so I remained standing. The wet grass had already drenched my jeans and shoes, and the humidity was so thick that my eyeglasses were mostly fogged over. At one point, I retrieved my camera and snapped several photos—but the lens was so covered in condensation that the pictures could not properly capture the beauty.
I began by singing inspiring songs that always help me connect with my source. Then I immersed myself into an experience of deep gratitude. One by one, I reviewed and pondered the incredible blessings that frame my life experience. Eventually, as the peaceful feeling came that “It is now time to leave,” my soul was singing with gratitude.
Amazingly enough, as I strolled back past the small pen full of goats, the skies suddenly cut loose with a several rounds of lightning and thunder. Two of the powerful thunderclaps gave the feeling of being quite close. I would not label the rains as being “torrential”, but they were definitely on the heavy and aggressive side.
A brief instinct told me “That lightning was close … you need to get to safety … you need to hurry and get out of here.” As I began moving, fifty yards further down the trail, my heart began to speak. “Stop right here … everything about this moment depends on my attitude and perception … I can choose to run away … or I can choose to thoroughly enjoy the moment that is unfolding around me right now.”
I stopped in the middle of the small jeep trail and simply inhaled the adventure. Standing with my umbrella overhead, I smiled when I realized that there was not a mosquito around me. I was immersed in magical surroundings in the midst of an energetic storm—in the middle of beautiful pristine jungle. Beginning to meditate into the moment, I imagined myself as being the rain itself. Then I became the moist rich soil beneath my feet. Next, I observed how the rain dripped, pooled, and ran off of the luscious moist green foliage—and I imagined myself melting into that beautiful vegetation, actually becoming the plants themselves.
For over thirty minutes, I stood almost motionless in the rain, literally vibrating with the mystical magical energy of my surroundings. Deep puddles began forming around me as thunder continued to rumble in the distance. The pitter-patter of rain that bounced off my umbrella was joined by the sounds of thousands of similar drops cascading through the natural canopies of luscious green leaves all around me. The chorus of nature was captivating, stunning.
In silent awe, I continued my energetic feast. I laughed as I realized that the ‘old me’ would have feared and run from this experience. Wanting to stay comfortable and dry, I most likely would have missed it all. Instead of feeling blessed by the storm, I would have seen myself as being victimized and stuck. Yes, perception really is everything.
While standing in this incredible rain, I became possessed by the enthusiasm of a young child. I was whisked away to childhood memories of playing in similar storms. Smiles filled my face as I imagined my care-free self again riding my small bicycle through massive puddles created by plugged-up storm drains.
“Where along the way did I lose this youthful life-giving energy?” I pondered.
As my peaceful feelings again reluctantly informed me, “It is time to move on,” I slowly began pushing my bicycle forward, at first avoiding the puddles along the way. As the road began to widen and become smoother, I climbed back up on my seat and began to slowly pedal. Soon, I was plowing right through the middle of puddles, letting the water splash where it may. As I slowly inched closer to home, I thought to myself “It feels so wonderful to be young again.”
After arriving at home, my clothing and backpack were thoroughly drenched, but my wallet, camera, and IPOD remained quite dry—thanks to the plastic bags. Another wave of gratitude filled my soul as I recognized the blessings of having been open to the tiniest of promptings while I prepared for my journey earlier that morning.
Copyright © 2009 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved