The Resilient Memory: Claiming Your Expertise Before it’s Gone

It’s always bothered me that scientists shame their peers for studying astrology. I think that it’s impossible to prove that it doesn’t work, only that the way it works hasn’t yet been clarified and codified. (Neither has my childhood, but here I am.)

If I’m going to waste my time on entertainment, then I’ll pick subjects that you would call wasteful, instead of diving right into actual “Fiction.” I have no interest in Harry Potter, or people who became rich and famous playing it out. It’s a category in which I’ll always know is complete consumerism, and it sets off my alarm bells that surround my finances.

But sure, I’ll watch hours of tarot readings, astrological predictions, and anything that creatively explains things I’ve categorized as “Random.” Maybe, not so much.

What if you could predict everything? What would you do about it? I’d get prepared for what’s coming, and then hunker down and figure out how to be better prepared, and then even better prepared…just like the Girl Guide I’d been forced into becoming. All the way until Pathfinders, for all the head-hanging it caused.

One day, you figure out why things are happening the way they are. Suddenly, you have the power to take control of making it all work out your way.

I’d read that people seek control, above all else, and I wondered why no one was buying when I was trying to sell it. It must sound over-the-top, arrogant, and/or like it’s a joke to everyone who looked at me and doubted. When I look in the mirror, I surely would have thought, “Do you think I’m gullible?”

Today, it’s hilarious, but then, I was simply baffled, and going broke trying to figure out what I was doing wrong.

In Complete Control

Today, I know the list is so long, it starts with, “Well, where should I start?”

And even then, I was in complete control of what was happening to me. The day I came home, I slammed the door and bellowed to the Church on the hill behind my house, “From now on, everyone can keep their hands to themselves!”

The next day, the pandemic shutdown began.

That one was so shocking and obvious that I decided it was time to master this “Freedom of Voice,” to which I write about in Chapter Two of What Could Be.

I wrote those chapters as someone who knows what she is writing about, not as someone who’s merely written about it. I have much more editing to do on that title, and that’s what I am working on these days.

For one, I need to remove a reference to my old name. It’s been almost a year now since I finally chose my own name and moved on from the one I never felt was a good fit.

Reading it a year later, I’d forgotten some of those stories and experiences. That space helps me realize where work needs to be done, and it also helps me realize how far you can grow in a year, in a lifetime.

More importantly, I know who I want to be, while being proud of the person I am. I grow, not because I wasn’t good enough as I was, but to experience new and different adventures.

If people are mostly water, and water is affected by the moon, aren’t you, too? If that’s the case, then having a happy and fulfilling life is learning to surf the waves of it, instead of being thrown around, drowned, or crushed by them.

A Skill to Master

Now there’s a skill to master, if you must pick one. Golf? No thanks. Organized sports? No, I’m good. Mass market fiction? Well, maybe I have time for one.

With the rest of my time, I’m learning to surf those waves called life. It sure was fun when it was on a snowboard above the clouds in Whistler. Ditto for when it was a wakeboard in my backyard. This winter, it will likely be another trip up and down the Mountains in infinite loops around Gaspe.

What a gasp, eh? This time, we have matching sleds again, like back in ’09. This time, he’s not rushing out to modify his so we don’t look like one of those matchy-matchy couples. Plus, I have a break that works, and a competition turbo with a pull-start.

I had a dream where someone asked me which gym I go to. What gym, I’d laughed. Indeed, what gym when you have life? Still, I have plans to join the local gym this winter, and I am very excited about it.

Honest, most days it feels like life is a video game, and I am Player One, winning every day. I no longer need anyone to believe me. I’m not here to convince you, I’m merely writing it down, so when I look back, I will know how far I’ve come.

When I heard, “I’ve forgotten more than you’ll ever know,” I thought, well then, I’d better make sure not to forget anything.

The best way to do that is to write it all down. I will look back and remember, if only to me, if only for me. Hopefully, though, I wish to do better than that.

Riding the Energy

In my life, things are laughably obvious. People have names that an author wouldn’t pick because they would sound too on the nose. Names I cannot provide, for I’m not out to expose anyone.

Signs that might as well be lit-red with flashing lights for me, but others miss completely. In retrospect, I know it’s because I’m consuming my experience with a clean slate of a mind, and not one that is pre-occupied with something, anything, and I know how difficult it was to achieve. I haven’t always been this way. I had memories that needed processing. Things weren’t sitting right with me, as an investigator may say.

I hadn’t learned why I had invested time with the wrong people, or picked the wrong career, or followed the bad advice. And so, you do it again, because it’s the way you do things, until you consciously decide to do differently and are capable of pulling it off. Those are massive steps for anyone to take in any direction.

In my case, the years passed anyway, and no one was vying for my time, so I spent it on myself. If there’s one person whose company you should be able to stand, it’s yourself. And I had some work to do.

There was a time when I’d blare music to drown out the thoughts in my head. If someone had tried to talk to me about the energy that I carried around with me like a cloud, and that no one would want my weather, I would have stormed away angrily.

So, does it matter if I tell you to pick your energy and take it with you everywhere you go? Cheery generosity, a quick, big smile, and an honest laugh work for me. I love how easy it has become to enjoy the weather every day.

The Study of the Freedoms

Don’t be jealous. Be empowered. Master your seven freedoms, and you will be the master of your world, too. Or you can keep laughing at me, scoffing at me, or whatever it is you do to prevent new information from upsetting your patterns. Whatever works, and to each their own.

I feel like everything works out the way that makes me surprised and happy, because I am the only one doing it. I simply have no competition when it comes to planning how the future should roll out in the geography and space around me. Everyone has a hope or idea, but no one is putting forth the energy to vote, so to speak.

Hence, every day in every way, it’s like a contest, where I hear, “And just like yesterday, today will unfold according to the grand plan from Rayne Wordsmith,” to great applause. Every day, I wonder, just how long can I get away with this, until someone else stuffs the ballot box in their favor?

Until then, I know it’s going to be, “Me, again?” It’s still so fun to win, to be resourceful and creative in my approach to solving problems, to be adventurous of spirit, and grounded in principles.

Like me, you are a miracle of creation. You are one with the infinite field of possibilities and possess boundless potential for goodness, so says the Divine Mother Matrix.

“Notice when fear, doubt, and unrest creep in, notice when you ensnare your soul in low frequencies. Draw your focus inward and upward, meet me there, and declare your freedom once again.”

There is freedom in knowing that you created everything that you have. Now make it the way you want it. Take control of that power and start being deliberate.

Deliberate Power

As a young engineer, one of the first things I overheard someone say about me was, “If there’s one thing she is, it’s deliberate.” I never turned a knob without a plan to evaluate the change and a strategy to respond. I never spoke up unless I absolutely had to. Being deliberate may not sound like the highest praise, but I was proud of that assessment.

When I worked in corporate, I had fifteen years of behaving that way behind me. I picked my clothes to align with my goals for the day. If I needed people to think of me as creative, I wore orange. If I needed them to be calm while I talked about triggering things, I wore blue. When I knew that they might try to get handsy, I wore Drunk Tank Pink in an effort to kill that testosterone.

Does it work? Does it matter? You have to wear something, so you might as well have a reason for choosing one thing over another. Sure, wear it because “it feels good,” and then work at getting to a more accurate and precise effect that arises.

Once, I had a manager who couldn’t listen to more than five words without interrupting me. When I noticed that she valued jewelry, I wore my grandmother’s diamond-encrusted ruby ring to work. When doing my explanations, her eyes followed that ring like they were glued together, as were her lips. In the end, I finally got my message heard – and yes, she wasn’t just tuning me out.

In my world, I believe when words are required, the Universe has to use whoever is at hand. If you dismiss messages because you don’t think the other person passes muster, then you may be missing some valuable messages.

May be? Are.

Nonverbal Messengers

Other times, I believe that people are in my way so that I will take a different route, or slow down enough to miss something I wouldn’t want to experience, or be in my benefit in any other way. They are there to help, not hinder. I don’t know everything, but I do know that I am protected if I know enough to submit to when they know best.

Not all those who have protectors listen and allow. They dismiss the risk, push the timeline, or otherwise get in the way of good help and make the job difficult. Sometimes impossible.

Today, I thought the grocery store was closed due to a fire because all the firetrucks and people in full uniform were blocking the entry and exits. I approached cautiously and asked if the store was open.

Apparently, it was food drive day. Having no cash to offer after deciding to leave it at home, I explained my “plastic only” problem.

“No problem,” he said, indicating the pre-filled bags they were selling. I put one in my cart and handed it over when I exited the store. Perfect.

Hunger is genuine pain. If I can help someone avoid that pain, I can do it every week. They make it so easy that there’s no way to make the excuse not to do it.

I wish we lived in a world where hunger wasn’t something in my community, let alone the world. I can wrap my head around the problem of unfertile land, unreliable rain, unavailable sun, and so on. But in my hometown? In the Arctic, yes, the difficulty is apparent to someone who binge-watched Alone to understand better how to do it. But in the lap of Muskoka?

Unwise Urges

Today, I drove past the spot where the homeless man stands with his cup. I wonder if I should put something in it, or if it’s his daily cup of coffee, enjoyed in his favorite spot. He wasn’t there, but his cup was. I thought, yes, I would be inside on a day like today, too.

Then I saw him walking along the side of the highway. It’s not really a walk, more of a lurch, as if his boots don’t fit and they’d fall off if he lifted his feet too high. I fantasize about stopping to give him a ride, a sandwich, and an ear if he wants to share anything.

Friends and common sense talk me out of it. But if I found out today that my time was running out, I’d buy a guy a coffee and stand with him, and there’s always a catch. Nothing is free. And time is always running out.

Everyone has a fascinating story. It’s always amazing what pieces and perspectives they choose to share.

A coffee for an answer to the question: “Who are you?”

It’s amazing how rare it is for someone to respond with their name. Nope, for me, it was about ensuring you knew who I was in the community’s social fabric.

You might list five things that answer that question, right now.

Do they all involve other people? I am Canadian, part of a prominent and populous family with an impressive history. I have all these affiliations.

Or you might attach to your accomplishments. I am an engineer. It took time, effort, and money, and not everyone who wanted to complete the journey did, but I did. Yay, me. I get to wear a ring so everyone knows what I did and do.

The Importance of Memory

But if you asked me today, I’d say, “Rayne. Who are you?”

As a kid, when I tried changing my name, I tested out my middle name, but failed to respond to it when called upon. Then I changed the spelling, but realized it made no difference. I tried convincing people to cut out a couple of the syllables, their choice since there was a total of three, but it didn’t take.

One day, to my delight, it was raining, and my neighbor asked, “Did you order this?” Indeed, I had. Having grown up with the pressure “not to waste a sunny day,” I loved the relief of a rainy day. Finally, I heard Rob Thomas sing about being the rainmaker and wondering how that felt. I admired Rayna James on Nashville, both the character and the actor, and I’d had enough “A’s” in my life. There you have it – how a perfect name was born.

As a child, I learned that the more A’s you get in life, the better your life will be. Maybe I am living proof, just as I leave that rule behind.

The baseline in life is remembering half of what they tell you. Fifty percent is a pass, and if you can you better, your future gets brighter.

Take notes. Your own notes. In your own handwriting. With a pen and paper. Those four points are deliberate.

Do you want better in life? Remember more, and since you are going to forget, you’d better start writing it down.

Keep a journal, a list, or even a keyword about how your day went in your diary, because one day, you are going to want to learn how to do better and realize that your notes are the answer.

For a brighter future, in Grade 8, I volunteered for a study skills course that my friends thought they didn’t need. I figured that I’d take all the help I could get. Using those skills, today, I’d say I’m the co-creator of my universe, and I negotiated a fair balance of power. Fifty-fifty at least, and sometimes I get to have things my way.

I know a lot of juicy secrets and no one to tell. That’s the way it’s always been. The universe and I, facing the question of “What next?”

Randomness? Not in this life. I was a process control engineer trained on how to achieve the closest to perfection possible. Three times, I was able to do that.

In racing, someone told me that you must pass someone three times before they learn to pull over when they see you coming. Ray Dalio, author of Principles, describes what I’ve come to term as the Rule of Three Times. It’s always been the charm. The first was luck, the second was a fluke, but the third proves the existence of skill.

If three times makes the rule, I am in the most control of my life as might be possible, and that’s the secret to happiness. Now I know the feeling of genuine happiness. I highly recommend it.