Where Do Ideas Come From?

Ideas are everywhere. They exist in the atmosphere all around you. They are born as vibrations ready for translation. They can live as imprints in the fabric of this space-time reality or be "born" from energy expansion.

You translate ideas based on your frequency. YOU are a skilled translator of frequency. Sight, sound, taste, touch, and smell are experiences frequency-translating organs create. Without them, you cannot see, hear, taste, feel, or smell the world around you.

An excerpt from my book The Halfways explains it well.

I enjoy bumping into thoughts that are interesting to write about. Below is a story that "popped" into my head the other day. It's an example of translating an idea.

Did I copy someone else's story? No. Does this story or a similar one already exist somewhere in this reality? Perhaps. I can't say one way or the other. All I know is that I was on the same frequency as the story below, so I translated it in my mind as words and images.

The point of this post is to show an example of translating "unexpected" ideas that exist on a frequency and having fun while doing it.

Remember that the solution already exists when you get stuck thinking, "I don't know what to do in this situation," whether that situation is positive or negative. Your "job" (as a human "being") is to get on the same frequency as the solution.

How do you intentionally do that? Start by noticing how you're focusing energy. Pay attention to what ideas appear on a "random" basis during the day or night. Notice anything and everything. Make mental notes about the types of thoughts, visions, and ideas in your mind and mind's eye.

Another way is to focus energy on what you want vs. thinking about what you don't. Feel the solution (to the best of your ability) before it appears in your mind or physical reality. Feelings indicate the vibration you're tuned to at this moment. Knowing what solution would solve your challenge is unnecessary before you receive it.

You don't need to know a solution's specifics (what, where, when, or how) to receive it. Setting a goal is unnecessary unless goal setting is fun for you. Seeing the "perfect" solution in your mind's eye isn't required unless using your imagination in that way is an enjoyable way to pass the time.

Below is the fiction story that popped into my head. I have no idea where it came from or why I translated it. Perhaps it is only to use in this post. Or perhaps it's a book series. Maybe both. I'm not sure.

I enjoy following my excitement and seeing where it leads. The main character in the story may be an actual individual and reality somewhere in the Here and Now. At the moment, I only know that it's an idea that "came to me," and I curiously explored it.

There is no difference between the ease of exploring a fiction story and finding solutions to challenges in your life. The only difference is how you perceive one thing or the other.

Percy sat on the front porch's wooden steps. Her head hung heavy in her hands. The birds chirping in the yard kept her anchored to the present. A red-headed woodpecker hammer at the side of the house. Tilting her head upwards, the sunbeams warmed her cheeks. 

She wasn’t sure what today was about. Why was she here at all? Her lungs filled with air—repeatedly expanding and collapsing. So this is life?

Her heart hammered rhythmically in her chest. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

The orchestral beats of her whole being—in line with the birds’ tweets and the wind’s whoosh, felt so perfect and real. She’d long ago convinced herself she’d be fine.

How had she never noticed the seductive beauty of nature before? She was too busy, most likely. Percy had things to do, places to go, and people to see.

But today, she sat on the porch and listened. 

Percy had left the day’s agenda on the floor of her room, papers and sticky notes strewn everywhere, and wandered out to the porch right on time. She admired the beauty of the countryside where she’d lived since childhood. 

Red, orange, and yellow swept across the skyscape. Its silkiness reminded her of melty Sherbert, an ice cream dessert she loved as a child. On The Special Occasion it was served, Percy felt she was the luckiest girl in the world.

Percy examined her hands. Fine lines created a matrix across her hands, which she never liked. They were her father’s hands—thick, stocky fingers, bulbous knuckles, and transient white marks on her nails. 

Stretched out, her fingers accentuated all the features she disliked, bringing her Dad to life at that moment. She’d always hated her hands but loved Dad. She lifted her right hand to the sky and examined the blue veins protruding through her skin. What was the purpose of it all? 

A deafening gust of wind came out of nowhere and swept over the porch. All she could hear for a moment was a loud thump-thump, thump-thump sound. Was this her heart beating or someone else’s? 

Percy had always been fascinated by the yellow moons. Two glowing eyes, static in the sky, seemed to follow her everywhere. The obnoxious size of the circles reminded her of the ends of binocular barrels. How long had they been watching? Always, she'd imagined.

Waving at the moons, she wasn’t sure what was real and what wasn’t anymore.

Percy never caused any trouble. She’d never considered not following the rules. Minding her own business was the key to survival. Keep your chin back, your head tilted slightly forward, and a smile on your face. That was the secret to a happy life. 

Control Center expected Percy to sit on the porch every morning like clockwork. It was how they took attendance.

The last time Percy forgot attendance, the guards busted through her door with guns drawn. She’d just picked up the salt shaker to garnish her over-easy eggs when she heard someone kick down her door.

The memory was clear up until a certain point. Then it gets foggy.

Leaning over the counter to take a bite, she sees the guards’ reflection on the side of the toaster. Slowly, she sets the salt shaker down. Just like she did the one other times she forgot attendance, Percy raises her hands over her head, showing compliance.

“Percy Rowlins, you’re under arrest for missing attendance.” The lead guard announces. His voice sounds familiar, but Percy can’t quite place where she’s heard it before.

“Turn around slowly so I can scan your face.” Percy’s mind searches to find the source of this familiar tone. She’s sure she knows this man, but how? And where?

Percy turns slowly and carefully, avoiding further agitating the guards. If she gets the pomp and circumstance over, breakfast might still be in the cards.

“Turn around. You missed attendance, Percy Rowlins. Why?” 

If Percy can not devise a good reason for the times she misses attendance, she’ll end up in containment. Sam, her best friend, had been in containment three times in two years. He’d told her what to expect in case Percy ended up there. Sam talked about hours of cold and darkness and disturbing projections he was sure weren’t his.

To the point where she felt she recognized the lead guard's voice, Percy can't recall any more of the projection. It's a blur after that. It never goes farther than that, but she can feel more hiding somewhere in the recesses of her mind.

All she knew was what Sam told her—that containment was the worst. Something to be avoided at all costs. So, she follows the rules to the best of her ability. She keeps her chin up, head tilted slightly back, and a smile on her face.

And occasionally, she forgets attendance.

The yellow moons are always in the sky. It doesn't matter if it is day or night. The moons never move. A science teacher once explained to Percy that the moons did move, but we couldn’t perceive it due to our slow processing rate. It seemed logical at the time. 

Recently Percy started asking questions. She was aware of the risk but didn’t care anymore. In the last month, Percy could feel something inside begin to shift. It was a strange sensation. Thoughts she’d never had before showed up in her mind at odd times of the day.

Percy also began noticing things she never had before, like the beating of her heart and how a gentle wind felt like kisses on her cheeks. She had never asked her questions aloud, however, since questions were outlawed. But she could think about them as often as she wanted.

Be aware of what types of ideas you translate on any given day. Are these ideas and thoughts bringing you closer to your desired experiences? Or are your thoughts and ideas making it seem like you're farther away from your desired experience?

Awareness is a powerful, creative tool. It can help you get to where you want to go sooner or drive a wedge between you and your desired life.