Startled by the comment which seemed out of context, I laughed for a moment, unsure whether he was speaking metaphorically or literally. Not wanting to consider the implications that were lurking in the metaphorical arena, I opted to go the literal route.
“I have been pondering my gas tank too,” I said. “Each time I notice it’s getting low…”
A sheepish feeling crept up my back. That morning, my fuel gauge needle had been hanging on “E” and the indicator light had occasionally blinked on to warn that “completely empty” was just around the corner.
I shrugged away the feeling and continued, “…and I park for the night without filling up, I have this thought: What happens if Armageddon comes in the middle of the night and I need to drive away on an empty gas tank?”
Yes. What would happen? Well, this much is certain: I would be unable to drive very far. Vocalizing the secret words of my mind was unsettling.
John listened intently to my story about Armageddon and then thoughtfully offered, “I have the impression that my unwillingness to keep my car’s gas tank full is a direct correlation to the areas in my life where I am unwilling to keep my other tanks full. Like, for instance, money.”
Damn... He was speaking metaphorically. I groaned from the gnawing pit in the depths of my stomach.
I have never run out of gas or even sputtered into a gas station on fumes. There has never been any choking or lurching to indicate that my car’s belly was getting too empty to proceed. But I have, indeed, pushed my vehicle way beyond its capacity. And I do it on an almost weekly basis. It is like a game with me... hmmmmm... how far can I drive without any gas in my tank? I got 320 miles on the last tank. Can I get 330 on this one?
I thought about that conversation again this morning – 48 hours later – when I finally stopped to fill up my gas tank. I watched the gallons tick up as they glugged their way into my yawning tank. I wasn’t surprised when it hit over 14.5 gallons before it snapped to a resounding halt. I squeezed the lever again, manually gripping it tightly and playing the game of rounding the pump to the nearest dollar or fifty cents. I had to finally give up at forty-six dollars and two cents for fear that I was soon going to be paying for gas that would be sloshing all over my car, my shoes and my clothes.
It was then that I glanced at the gallons and thought, hmmmmm... should I be concerned that I was able to put 15.6842 gallons in a 15 gallon tank? Then, closely on the heels of that thought came this, how about the fact that you are paying with a credit card that will probably go over its limit with this charge, you have no cash and pay day is still five days away?
Ding! Ding! Ding! Oh-dear-oh-dear-oh-dear!
Oh! Dear!
It is true. My gas tank is my relationship with money is my relationship with my physical, emotional and mental bodies is my relationship with spirit is my relationship with sexuality is my relationship with my creative energy is my connection to Source...
Oh dear, indeed! Sheesh!
So I, too, make a new commitment... I commit to keeping my car’s tank full. Every time I pump gas into it, I am going to smile and remember that, metaphorically speaking, I am filling all of my tanks. And then, if Armageddon does come in the middle of the night, I will be grateful that I am able to drive a significant distance before I have to get out and walk!© Angie K. Millgate 4/23/07
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