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All the male teens were a few lanes down and throwing some mean hooks. There was one little girl who was assigned a lane next to Lily. She had her own ball. Orange. Perfect size finger holes. Nice shirt. She should pull her hair back. Her mother set up camp with a cherry 7-up and the local paper. The music was blaring, the popcorn was popping, the neon pin lights were warming up above us, and Lily was chewing her shirt. Let's roll.
Round about the 5th frame of the first game, a sturdy young man began with the wide broom two lanes down. He was headed our way at a fast clip. I remember how that used to irk me as a young girl, on my first league, without my own ball. He made sure to cover every inch of floor. Wow. Did he have to do this NOW? As he came closer, I recognized him as the lad who was bowling next to us a week earlier. He threw strike after strike. We would comment on how good he was. He smiled back as he picked up his split. Then, I wondered, on this Saturday morning, as he was sweeping the lanes, if he lived and breathed bowling. I even said to him as he was gliding by, "Wow, you must live and eat bowling, huh, big guy!" I thought it was pretty decent small talk for a bowling alley.
I replied, "Boy oh boy, you must live and breathe bowling eh?" :giggle: He might not have heard me. He moved on. Lily nailed a gutter ball. I wondered if I could eat an entire pizza on my own. The little girl next to us, Heather, had the form and the outfit. Up straight. Ball jacked just right. Knees bent, thumb up, arm extended... Bam. Right down the middle like a good little bowler kid. Lily asked if the snack bar was open yet. I went over to the snack bar and got the large bucket of popcorn and a large root beer. It was going to be a long two hours. Oh, lookie there, Heather got another spare! I spotted the candy machine and threw in 80 cents. Heather's mom sized me up and wrote me off.
The league coach made his way over to our side of the island after a
bit and picked Lily to work with. Heather was looking on, shaking her head and polishing her ball with a towel that had bowling balls all over it. I sensed a loss of my spiritual Center. But, she's just a little girl in love with bowling. I called up all of my new thought teachings and grounded my energy. I washed Lily's hands as I was giving her a pep talk; like in that movie, Cinderella Man. I was the Ropes Trainer. It was already bloody enough in the first game. Lily was out of breath. She didn't feel she could go on. I wanted a piece of Heather for my fireplace mantle. "Now, don't you worry Lily, Heather has obviously been bowling a long time. You just started this summer. You just have some fun out there, and don't worry about anything." I took a power scrunchy out of my purse and we agreed to get down to some serious bowling business. Hell hath no fury like that of Mommy/Daughter rack bowlers on a mission. Lily was well into her first game, when the snack bar lady came over to me and thanked me for the generous tip. She sat down next to me and told me bowling tournament stories as I cheered Lily on. I now knew the names of all the good bowlers in Alabama. I couldn't help but notice the huge muscles in her right arm. Was that from bowling?
"What does it all mean?" I wondered. Everything we see is
here for pondering. What could this moment possibly hold? Lily accidentally bowled Heather's turn. Heather's mom was now at the ball return. This could get ugly. I counted the steps it would take to save Lily. I calculated weights and measures and figured I was way behind. Heather's mom knew the office people by their first name. Lily continued to bowl next to Heather, and her own ball, and began to bowl better and better. She stopped throwing gutter balls, and started throwing it right down the middle. A little thumb adjustment and Heather was biting her nails. She was clearly warmed up. The plan was working. The shoe rental lady began with the announcements. Tuesday night is Doubles Mixer. Wednesday night is Bowling for Dollars. Saturday night is the Bowling Banquet and Sunday is the Road Trip to Birmingham for a bowling tournament. I wondered if the snack lady was going. I wondered if that floor sweepin', strike shootin', livin' breathin' Joe was carpoolin'. I pondered buying Lily a bowling shirt on the way out, but I was short 4 bucks. Game three.
Egads. What I have I done? Suddenly, Heather started throwing gutter balls. Time stood still. I couldn't bear it any longer. I had become a Monster. Lily's eyes turned black. I felt a dark presence with me. We were in too deep. Together, we thought about throwing the game, for Heather's sake. We weighed it carefully. Lily would agree to bowl gutters in exchange for a trip to the Dollar Store. But, Heather's Mom folded up her paper and reminded Heather of her Bowling Lineage. All bets were off. She was wearing her bowling shoes just for the heck of it. Out in the open. Who does that? Intentionally? Time to adjust. I felt a Violet Flame activation take hold.
In the end, Heather pulled through and scored big. We were moderately ok with that. She's only eight for heaven's sake. And, we just came for some fun and popcorn anyway. Heather's going to Birmingham with the snack lady and the man who runs the pro shop. We blessed it, almost. We got a little carried away with the bowling thing. Everyone smiled. We'd see them next week. Heather zipped up her Sponge Bob bag and skipped out the back exit. Lily took off her rented shoes and returned her greasy rack ball to the wall of rack balls. Everything was back in the right hands.
Of course this story is embellished for the sake of humor, but the points are made, even without the frills. No, my darling Lily didn't sob, nor did she/we perform evil deeds. But, I bet if you stop and think for a second, you can surely relate to the story.
If you want to be a professional bowler, or even just a great bowler,
you should buy your own ball, shoes and bag. You should work at the
bowling alley. You should bowl on your day off and wear bowling clothes.
You should go to tournaments and banquets, and know first names of the
300 gamers. In other words, you should live and breathe bowling. You
should not concern yourself with what the bowler next to you is doing.
Lily doesn't want to be a professional bowler. We went for fun and found a deep pool of pointed intention. Not much else to think about when you are bowling, but bowling. It's a wonderful lesson for all areas of life. What is it that you want to do with your life? Exactly? Are you someone who wants to practice Reiki in the lovely mountains of Colorado, as a professional? Would you like to teach others? Would you like to live by a stream and plant some flowers so you can host Reiki Teas? Then, why are you working at Walmart, in the hardware section? Why are you reading romance novels in your time off and doing laundry 24/7? Pick up some Reiki books, start a Reiki share, offer Reiki freely to family and friends, download some Reiki music, wear Reiki tee-shirts, watercolor some Reiki symbols for the wall, bake some Reiki treats, set up a nice little spot in your own home and get into the right mind.
© Sheree Rainbolt-Kren, 2007 |
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
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IN
JUST ONE SATURDAY MORNING at the bowling alley, I learned all
I needed to learn about the power of intention and manifesting. Funny
thing; I wasn't even bowling. I was watching my daughter bowl her first
summer league. Just out having some fun. No big.
He
cupped his ear at me, "What?" 
He
bent down to speak with her at her level and noticed that her mouth
was full of popcorn. Then, he asked to see her right hand. Yep. Popcorn
grease. His eyes didn't look that big when we signed up. Remember, she
got her ball from the racks. Our whole family are rack bowlers from
way back. Actually, I had my own ball once. I was a good bowler once.
Real good. I had a patch.
So
much meaning and so little bowling skill.
Lily
was coming right along. She threw her first strike in the 4th frame
of the last game. Nail in the coffin moment. It took my breath away.
Lily flicked her hair before the next ball return. God I loved that.
Heather began to sweat. Bowler's sweat. Even her ball stalled and she
had to reset. She was noticeably shaken. God is great! 
I
took hold of Lily's bowling ball while Heather's Mom was in the huddle.
I cleared the ball's chakras and sent it sacred light from the Vortex
Of Light. I called forth all the Bowling Angels and gave it one minute
of Traditional Bowling Reiki. I hugged it and kissed it. For the good-of-all,
of course.
You
should just wave your hand over the ball return blower and ignore the
silly woman making small talk next to you. You should stop comparing
how good you are to other bowlers, and you should definitely have a
hand towel with balls on it. You should be like the head pin. Upright,
facing forward, front and center, poised for the strike.
Get
in the River's flow. Don't worry about what anyone else is doing and
saying. Don't get distracted. I can assure you there will be someone
who shows up in your playground for reasons that have nothing to do
with your Mission. Stay focused. In other words, live and breathe your
passion, whatever it is.