Weekend Robbery – A Spiritual Adventure

Most often, however, I was surprisingly calm, even happy.  A couple of weeks ago, I had smudged the space with sacred palo santo smoke and expressively asked that no one enter this house unless it was for our Highest Good.  Deep down, I trusted that. From the moment Orinda and I confirmed that my computer had indeed been stolen out of my room, we saw this as an opportunity to put into practice some of what we were learning. We called upon God and the Universe for help in our process. We also asked for guidance in recovering the computer, if that was in our Highest Good. We knew that somehow, no harm would come out of it, so we were open to seeing where all this would lead.  Earlier challenges with Orinda’s teeth and the fridge had had such positive outcomes, we were sure it would also be the case here. The way I had been able to support her during those times helped me understand what I myself needed here. Sure, there was a strong “not knowing”, but we knew our job was to be OK with that; we accepted the invitation to embrace the mystery yet again.  In fact, when I pulled my Spirit Calling Cards for a message, it gave me “Memories teach the mystery”, which I interpreted as not letting my thoughts and beliefs about robbery influence my experience. Remembering the suffering that followed a break-in at my childhood home made me determined not to let a sense of violation stop me from feeling safe in my new home.

I’ve been pretty good at remembering not to judge things as good or bad. Reading the zen story about the Chinese farmer’s son decades ago has had a lasting effect on me. We never know how the dots connect and why events play out in the big scheme of things.  After all, this was only a computer and we were safe and healthy.  I also recalled the movie A Winter’s Tale I saw on the plane back from Vienna.  A dying and fearless woman greeted a robber with a cup of tea and they ended up falling in love.  I had thought of that movie that very morning, actually, wondering how I would act if I found a robber in the house.  I had imagined saying something like: “Oh, you must be Orinda’s cousin. You’re early. She isn’t here right now, but would you like a cup of tea?” The reason I had imagined such a scenario was that during breakfast, I had read one of the short chapters in Byron Katie’s book “A Thousand Names for Joy” in which she talked about a robbery.

I’ve mentioned Byron Katie before.  After decades of depression, she hit rock bottom and woke up in 1986 completely liberated from the suffering of the mind.  Since then, she’s been teaching millions of people how to live in harmony with the way things are, by simply asking 4 questions and turning our thoughts around.  This is called The Work, and I was introduced to it in her first book “Loving What Is” during a Spirituality of Leadership class in my Masters of Education program in Calgary.  Her second book was on my bookshelf here when I moved in, and Orinda also started reading it after I left it lying around in the living room.  It’s been a great source of inspiration and conversation for us.

In Chapter 69, which I read Friday morning before going to school, Byron Katie illustrated her statement “It is not possible for something to be against you.” with a story about when she had been robbed.  After explaining that there is no such thing as an enemy, she goes on to say that “Your enemy is the teacher who shows you that you haven’t healed yet. Any place you defend is where you’re still suffering.” There’s nothing out there that can oppose you. There’s just fluid motion, like the wind. You attach a story to what you perceive, and that story is your suffering….”  She returned from a trip one day to find her entire house cleaned out of everything but some furniture and clothing.

“There is no sense of loss or violation. On the contrary, I picture the recipients and feel what joy these items will bring them. Maybe they’ll give the jewelry to their wives or lovers, maybe they’ll sell it at a pawn shop and feed their kids with the proceeds. I’m filled with gratitude. My gratitude comes from the obvious lack of need for each item. How do I know that I don’t need it? It’s gone.  Why is my life better without it? That’s easy: my life is simpler now.  The items now belong to the burglars, they obviously needed the items more than I did; that’s how the universe works.  I feel so much joy for them, even as I fill out the police report. I find it odd that the way of the world is to try to retrieve what is no longer ours, and yet I understand it. Filling out the police report is also the way of it. If the items are found, I’m ready to welcome them back. …  We can never have a problem with possessions; the only problem is our thoughts about what we do or don’t possess.  What other suffering is possible?  The simple truth of it is that what happens is the best thing that can happen. People who can’t see this are simply believing their own thoughts, and have to stay stuck in the illusion of a limited world, lost in the war with what is.  It’s a war they’ll always lose, because it argues with reality, and reality is always benevolent.  What actually happens is the best that can happen, whether you understand it or not. And until you understand it, there is no peace.  Reality is always kinder than the story we tell ourselves about it.”

Without having been introduced to The Work or other examples of how Byron Katie’s 4 questions have freed so many people from suffering, this passage might bring up a lot of resistance in you. For me, it brought up wonder at yet another example of what enlightenment really looks like in everyday life.

The week before, during a BBQ, our neighbour had mentioned how his vehicles had been broken into. I had been concerned about it, reminding me of why I had always preferred living in apartment buildings rather than houses.  Who knows? I’ve probably felt insecure in houses since we were broken into when I was a young adult (not helped by the number of movies I watch, I’m sure).  This street is in a very historic part of town, lined with many luxury estates – both old and new.  Our smaller house, however, was built in the 70s when larger properties were subdivided and sold off.  The street itself, however, is a major thoroughfare and relatively close to halfway houses and a methadone dispensing drug rehabilitation center (which our neighbour pointed out). Again, these are simply stories one can attach thoughts and beliefs to, but the broken beer bottles on my way up to the bus stop has had me wonder about the possibilities.

Have you seen the TV series “Republic of Doyle“? I’m fully aware that it’s only a TV show, but it pictures St. John’s as any other city. There are all sorts of people from all sorts of backgrounds, and life happens here as it does everywhere (perhaps with a little less drama than on the TV show 🙂 ).  Anyhow, I’m telling you this because on my way to the bus stop on Thursday, the day before the robbery, I pondered on whether our house would attract thieves.  There are so many rich homes around (albeit with alarm system) – I thought our cottage-like abode may not seem so attractive to a thief.  As you can see, I had focused on the possibility quite a bit.

So – did I attract this experience with all my thoughts? Was I to blame?  After all, what we resist persists, and what we put our attention on grows.  This is the power of manifestation I’ve talked about before – the creative power of thought. Thanks to Orinda’s support, however, I was reminded that the only thing we could control now was our response to the situation: our decision to act out of love or out of fear.  And love simply has no room for blame. So was I to blame?  Once again, I was able to let go of that mind fart and move on.

If I need any more proof of what Byron teaches about our thoughts causing our suffering and not the facts themselves, I need only remember how happy I felt for most of the weekend. After doing what needed to be done, like calling the police, writing a report, cleaning up after the friendly finger print expert left without much to go on, etc. I simply retreated to my studio for one of many painting and movie-watching marathons that weekend.  While my right brain felt free and happy to paint, my left brain was busily distracted with the stories of others (Orinda and I had picked up a dozen movies from the library on Friday morning – half of them inspirational / spiritual stories that helped keep me in a spirit of faith, and the others historic fictions and dramas that reminded me of how easy we had it in relation to the beheadings and stretchings that occurred in Queen Elizabeth I’s time, for instance).  I don’t always watch movies as I paint, especially not when I’m channeling energy at the same time, but sometimes, when well-chosen, they help me step out of my own way.  Truly, I had a wonderful weekend when I wasn’t focused on my loss, proving that it wasn’t the loss that was painful, but the thoughts about it and the possible consequences that were.  Nice lesson!

When I did go back to fear, both Orinda and I were guided back to peace through a variety of means.  We even laughed a few times – at ourselves and our thoughts. Mostly, we trusted in the process. We could not suffer, as we were in touch with the Law that we can not be in the Truth and suffer.  So we managed our thoughts and trusted our hearts back to a space of love for all involved, including ourselves.  It therefore made sense to her that the computer would be returned and I liked that conclusion…

The Plot Thickens – Interacting with the Royal Newfoundland Constabulary

As would be expected on a full moon weekend, a simple robbery was low on the police’s priority list. An officer only came to the house the following morning, after we received a call late on Friday night asking if that would be acceptable.  When a constable came on Saturday morning, she simply took down both Orinda’s report and mine and that was it. She hesitated when I said that the dispatcher had mentioned finger printing, and then called for someone to come and do that. If I recall, she was the one who suggested we look on Kijiji and other online sites, as well as in local pawn shops. She said she’d stop in Trader’s that afternoon, but it was never added to the report, so she likely was too busy to follow through. During our kitchen table chat, she also told us about showing up once in plain clothes at a Kijiji rendezvous after the owner had had no doubt that the item he saw online was his. They recuperated it this way. This gave me hope.

I think I recall that it was the second officer, the friendly finger print expert, whose mother got broken into twice down the road, who mentioned that thieves didn’t like going to pawn shops because of the cameras and that we should keep a closer eye on sites like Kijiji. He was very chatty, commenting on the heart-felt card he read on my desk by one of my students. We had a nice conversation about photography after he took out his camera to take shots of the “crime scene”.  It turns out wildlife photography is his passion.  Orinda and I had a good laugh later about part of our conversation. He’d already figured out by looking around that we were openly spiritual. When he didn’t find any clear prints on my desk (I thought for sure there would be on the power bar he would have had to touch to disconnect the power source or the hard drive where he took the connection wire out of), he said robbers usually wear gloves.  The kettle made a popping sound as soon as the officer said that ,and Orinda confirmed that the house spirits agreed with him.  To his credit, he didn’t miss a beat and answered that they knew more than we did since they were here the whole time.  When he talked about the feelings of violation that many feel, Orinda mentioned that I had smudged the place.  In response to his inquisitive look, I explained that I had used sacred smoke to clear any negative energies from my room and that a sense of violation hadn’t interfered with my sleep.  For some odd reason, Orinda chuckled and added “Yes, we smoked a little too”, to which he responded, “You do seem very calm under the circumstances”.  I cringed inside – joking about drugs to a police officer is one thing, but joking about me doing so, someone who has never tried drugs in her life… Sigh.  I can’t say I chuckled much about that one later (I did smile), but we’ve cracked up a few times about the kettle comment. The comic relief was welcome.  Anyhow, we had a nice visit with him, but there was a bit too much talk about the seedy side of humanity and fear that I would rather not focus on.

Later on Sunday, when we did find an ad online that could have been my computer, I immediately called the police to ask what I should do. Our file hadn’t been assigned to anyone yet – that would only happen on Monday – so we were told another officer would be sent to the house. I certainly felt my impatience when I replied “Couldn’t we do this on the phone?”  By the time he showed up, another Macbook pro with my specs had appeared on Kijiji. This ad had me even more suspicious, but the officer replied that unless we had something very specific to make us think it was mine, they couldn’t go following up on every Kijiji ad. Anyhow, he told us, most would prefer pawn shops to get rid of things quickly. He also said he’d go check out Traders that afternoon and call us afterwards… he never did.  Sigh – the contradictions weren’t comforting.  Still, this ad had me suspicious, but I wasn’t about to go visit a potential criminal and wouldn’t know what to do if it turned out to be mine. This is basically what I heard him tell me I should do – although when I tried confirming it and expressed my fears, he said he couldn’t technically tell me to do that.  He did, however, mention that if it did turn out to be mine, and I paid for it, the police would then retrieve the money for me.  All I could think of was losing both the computer and $700-900, depending which ad turned out to be mine..

I did contact the person who posted the first ad, using Orinda’s email since they would know my name as it appears when my computer is turned on. Their response and my feelings told me to let that one go.  That second ad, however, still bothered me, although I had no idea what to do about it. I tried not to be biased at the amount of spelling mistakes, but the use of generic Internet product shots for 2 out of the 3 photos got my inner-detective working. So did the fact that it had a new operating system on it – one that didn’t exist when the computer was issued (it clearly stated in the ad that it was an early 2011 model, just like mine). The officer thought the note at the bottom about being willing to trade for cash and gaming computer, however, looked authentic. I thought it contradicted the seller’s earlier statement about really needing the cash right now. I thought the trade offer was just a smart way to camouflage the stolen goods angle – but the officer responded that they weren’t usually that smart.  He (or one of the other constables) also said the thieves would likely want to get rid of it quickly and that there would be no way they’d ask for such a high price for it.  My thought was that if they asked for too little for a Mac, it would be too obvious it was stolen.  They logically asked for $200 less than the other 2 computers that were reportedly a few months younger than mine.

Heaven Sent Helper

Without knowing what to do, I returned to the studio to paint and watch more movies (yes, I’d watched all 12 by Monday night – and got a lot of wonderful painting time in!).

On Monday morning, when I left the studio to go upstairs, Orinda’s son Paul was there. He asked me some questions, which led me to showing him the Kijiji ad I was suspicious about.  The one who had posted it asked for phone calls or texts only – no emails, so Paul asked if I wanted him to call.  I explained what some of the officers had said and my own fears, but he still offered to pretend to be a buyer and visit the guy.

Both Orinda and I immediately got anxious about this sting operation. We were left back at the ranch while our home-grown undercover cop braved the weather and danger.  We knew that our nervous energy wasn’t helping, so back I went to the studio (my happy place) and Orinda turned to the kitchen (her happy place) to make one of her famous banana breads, surrendering the moment to God.

A Successful Sting Operation

Buddy (as folks call people here in Newfoundland) texted Paul to say he could meet in a public place. Paul replied, suggesting a few in the neighbourhood where the ad said Buddy lived.  I’m not sure if it was because of the pouring rain, but Buddy eventually said to come to his place.  I’d given him the serial number to my computer and suggested he memorize the last four digits. He said the guy showed him a few dents and told him of a minor one on the bottom, but kept a hold of the computer so that Paul couldn’t see the serial number (which was so tiny I couldn’t read it without my glasses… and even then). Paul stayed for about half an hour, asking Mac questions and doing a great job pretending he was a potential buyer.  He found out that Buddy had wiped the computer clean and installed a new operating system.  That meant that all my data and expensive Adobe Suite programs were gone – as expected.  After some chatting, however, Paul mentioned the dent on the bottom again and pretended to look at it more carefully while his baseball cap hid where his eyes were really looking.  It was my computer!!! (you must have seent that coming…)  Paul mentioned he still had 2 others to look at from Kijiji and that he was hoping to get something a bit newer. He then left in the second car he had borrowed that day.  I forgot to tell you. On his way there, Orinda’s intuition kicked in and gave her the message that he shouldn’t pull up in her bright coloured vehicle that the thief may have seen on Friday. So he stopped en route and borrowed another.

When Paul called here to tell us the news that he’d found my computer, it felt so expected, and yet it left me both in shock and almost too excited to find the name and number of our case officer who had called to identify himself that morning, saying there wasn’t much they could do at their end.  When I called him and excitedly told him we had found it and confirmed it by identifying the serial number, he asked me to call Paul back to arrange for another meeting with the seller.  I had enough wits about me to realize that I was in no shape to do this, and that it really wasn’t my place. I had given the officer Paul’s phone number and had already mentioned he was on his way to the gym and so may not have his phone with him soon.  I didn’t have my wits about me enough though to be tactful about it and said something like: “No. I can’t do that. You need to do that. I’m in no state to do so and wouldn’t know what to say anyway. Couldn’t you play undercover cop and get my computer back for me now?”.  He said he’d take care of it.

The next call we got was from Paul at the police station. He was filing a report and needed my last name. He later told us that officer had been surprised that he’d gone into that neighbourhood to do his own investigative work.  It would have been nice if he hadn’t needed to, but no one else was willing to do it.  At that point, we knew the address where it was.  We also were led to believe another buyer was interested. And worse, the ad had been pulled off Kijiji (although I had left it open on Orinda’s computer and was able to cut and paste the information to email it to the constable, as requested).  We were told that they were using Orinda’s son’s report to draw up a warrant, which I knew could take time. When Paul mentioned that he had confirmed teh last 4 digits, however, they said there’s no way they could get a warrant for just 4 digits. Meanwhile, however, Paul received a couple more texts offering to lower the price, even if he’d also said someone was coming that night with $650. The seller and now the police using Paul’s phone were texting back and forth, and another meeting was set up, this time in a public place (this was risky, but they found a way to explain it.  A warrant would have been necessary to go to the house).  When the thief pulled up in the car he had said he’d be driving, Paul was told by the police that he could leave. As he got back to our place, his phone rang and the officer told him that my computer had been recovered.  The suspect said he’d bought it on Kijiji himself the day before and his mom could collaborate the story, and so there was no proof to hold him, but at least I would be getting my computer back.  We had already decided to leave that part up to the police and the Universe, praying for the Highest Good of all involved.  We were all just playing our parts.  Although Paul did say Buddy wasn’t someone you’d want to meet in dark alley, he had a nice smile and had kids running around the house. He too is just doing the best he can – whether or not he’s the robber or involved in the robbery at any level.  That is simply not up to us.

Anyhow, the constable also told Paul that I would have to wait until Wednesday for it to be processed and because he’s be on night shift on Tuesday, but that’s OK. I was so relieved!

As the three of us sat in in the kitchen with warm pieces of banana bread, we were filled with love and awe.  Paul was our hero, but we recognized the perfect team work of everyone involved – everyone!  Still, we joked about the police not having enough time to watch crime shows on TV as our instincts seemed better in some instances, but we were very grateful to them too.  In fact, we just sat there in a mixed state of awe, aftershock, not-knowing and gratitude

With prayers, faith, listening to our intuition, opening up to possibilities, trusting in the bigger picture, and staying in a positive space of painting, movies, and chips (of course!), we moved through this experience together and with our Highered Helpers. We were all in it for our own reasons – the thief included and no hard feelings.  The physical conclusion could have been different, but the results would have been the same.  We all experienced renewed faith at how to be with something, how to live with the not-knowing.  We may have let the anxiety grab us momentarily, but then managed quite well to surrender it to The Universe.

Homecoming:

This morning, we went to the police station to pick up my computer. Thankfully, the Mac adapter was there with it.  Unfortunately, Buddy had password protected it, so I couldn’t  get in.  The constable said he was going to call Buddy later that day and would ask about that.  While Orinda and I were at The Source (computer store – had to be clear the way we talk…) to pick up a new connection cord for my external drive (that the thief had taken for some reason), he told us Staples could probably wipe it clean and reload another OS X operating system.  We went there after, but not after he looked at my hard drive to say he didn’t have the necessary wire; the one he showed me was for the slower functioning of the hard drive.  After asking twice if he was sure, he realized he had been thinking of a different type of connector and went to the back, saying he thought he might have it. As he walked away, I called after him saying “You have to. And it’s on sale for today only!”.  He came back saying it was his last and they wouldn’t be carrying it anymore – and indeed, it was on clearence from $36.99 to $5.60.  Perfect.

We did go to Staples next door and after the technician checked my original receipt to make sure I hadn’t stolen it, he started the process of wiping it clean.  When he returned and told me it would cost $100, my eyes must have widened and I quickly expressed that I would wait to see if the police could get the password from Buddy.  He looked at me and said: “Look, I’ve already started the process. Take it home and finish it yourself and I won’t charge you anything.”  Perfect again! It’s got 13 hours to go before that is completed.

I even found my disks for all the expensive Office and Adobe Creative Suite programs that used to be on there. I may have a few more days of asking Adobe for help with a new serial number as it has already been installed once, but we’ll see.  I’m trusting the process.  I didn’t want to wait another few days to write this post. I know a few of you have been waiting for it.

Now back to the studio for more painting and gratitude… movie and chips too in there somewhere, I’m sure.    Thanks for reading – writing is definitely one way for me to process experiences.  If this post was too long and you’re skipping here to the end for a summary, I’d say the best way to cope in challenging times is “Don’t worry, be happy”.