One of the joys of the interconnected world in which we live is the random things that find their way to my inbox. I’m sure that if I took the time to figure out how they got there, the randomness would be replaced by conscious thought. As it is, the apparent randomness is perhaps more correctly a product of simply not remembering what I signed up for. An example is a brief introduction to the Japanese concept of hado that arrived last week. Two Japanese characters, one meaning wave and the other move, capture the idea of the energy vibrations that existing in everything from food to gardens to people and everything in between.
the intrinsic vibrational pattern at the atomic level in all matter. The smallest unit of energy. Its basis is the energy of human consciousness.
From what I gather, it says that each of us can make things happen by being more conscious of the hado we send into the world. It’s another take on the whole visualisation thing or the power of manifestation. Key to it, like so many similar concepts, is the idea of being aware – if we become aware of our negative thinking, of our self-beratement, of our self-chastisement, we can then choose to be more positive. We can start thinking with intent.
Gratitude is one way of sending hado out into the world. Smiling is another.
Once we become aware of the power of hado, we can create positive changes in every area of our lives: our physical space, mental and emotional health, relationships, and businesses. One of the most important principles of hado is to monitor your thoughts and intentions every day.
This resonated with me when I made my second trip to Punchestown Racecourse last week for yet another COVID test.
My memories of Punchestown centre on the spring racing festival when the place is teeming with style and panache. The last time I was there, it was bloody freezing, but that didn’t inhibit the style. Yet that same style was let down by goose pimples and visible shivers. Thousands had braved the cold that year and the place was heaving.
Last week, it was empty. I had a really hard time marrying the two images – what I saw in front of me and what I remembered. My brain couldn’t bridge the two. I felt inordinately sad. I’d parked up as I was early for my test. It was bright and sunny and yes, it was cold. Words came to mind like desolate, empty, listless.
The signs that marked the way to the testing centre were clear. Random walkers, those lucky enough to live within 5 km of the racetrack, trotted by in ones and twos. It felt strange being at a racecourse with no horses, no punters, no air of excitement. The screams, and roars, and laughs had been quietened by anxiety, worry, and fevered prayers for negative results. It was all quite depressing.
But inside the massive warehouse, as staff worked to take details, fill in the paperwork, and then direct those for testing to a bay, the mood strangely lightened. It all went like clockwork. Everyone was so friendly and chatty and concerned. It’s what I miss most about Ireland – the banter, that immediate familiarity, that sense of knowing and being known.
I’m not sure if that was hado in action: my being aware of my negativity and then seeing the positivity in others. Perhaps they were giving their hado some welly. Maybe. Maybe not. It doesn’t much matter.
I’m simply grateful for those working to make all this just a smidgin easier. May they keep sending out their hado and may it keep working until the rest of us get the hang of it.