May peace one day overlay the earth, and heal the world.
Now, the way the world views time, the "one day" as written above, has yet to happen. But I believe everything we perceive, past, present, future, is simultaneous. Thus, "one day" exists at the same moment as this day.
Pick a task you perform every day at around the same time, such as shaving, or brushing your teeth. What if each time you shave, or brush your teeth, is really the same moment? I have used this analogy before: A movie contains all its scenes, all its sounds and events, all at once. You hold it in your hand, look at the shiny disk, and know everything is there: Beginning, middle and end. You begin to watch the movie, and though you don't necessarily think of it, you know the end of the movie exists as you begin the first scene.
I believe the first day of the earth, and the last, exist in the same moment, as does every instant in between. When I say, "May peace one day overlay the earth, and heal the world", I know that day exists (in our terms of time, and what "exists" means) right now, this moment:
"...everything in the universe exists at one time, simultaneously. The first words ever spoken still ring through the universe, and in your terms, the last words ever spoken have already been said, for there is no beginning. It is only your perception that is limited."..."There is no past, present, and future. These only appear to those who exist within three-dimensional reality. Since I am no longer in it, I can perceive what you do not. There is also a part of you that is not imprisoned within physical reality, and that part of you knows that there is only an Eternal Now. The part of you who knows this is the whole self." --The Seth Material, by Jane Roberts.
"The first words ever spoken still ring through the universe...the last words ever spoken have already been said..." That might startle some, but what might be even more startling is that it makes perfect sense to me. Seth knew (knows) there is but one self. The personality known as "Seth" is but a small portion of the greater whole, or expression, calling himself "Seth". And that greater whole is a portion of "the whole self."
I can feel it in the cells of my body; in the validity of the Source of all there is; in the free and elastic reality that lies still beneath our demands to be chained...and all the while, we are free...may peace indeed...
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Change the way you see the world...
It is not that the physical is a bad thing. It is neutral. It is the effect of a simple thought that we were suddenly separate from our Creator. It does nothing to reality; in reality, we remain as created. The physical is not a system unto itself, into which we moved. We invented it spontaneously when we thought we offended our Creator.
The thought that brought about the images we call "physical" is not neutral, as no thought is neutral. Thought is of mind, and mind is the activating agent of Spirit. What we really are is so beautiful; it is perfect; it is holy. We already are everything we need to be in order to have eternal life. we are eternal life.
Why should we have to earn eternality? It makes more sense to me that we would already be eternal, thus free, thus everything wonderful and alive with eternal validity. It must then follow that we really do know who and what we really are. We have beliefs of sin and punishment because of this universal despair, which is based upon our deep-seated belief that we angered our God. How does perfect Love become angry?
Physicality is images. There is no world. None of the terrible things we think happened, ever really happened. "My brother, what you thought you saw was never there." --A Course in Miracles. Allow that to sink in. What if we remain as created, the way ACIM says? What if we really are eternally safe, but safe because there is no such thing as unsafe. Do you see? I have no knowledge that you do not have.
There is no "outside". Everything is everything. We are one unlimited Self. The tiny instant of fear is gone. It is not our Creator's Will. And so, it never was. Forgive the world; release it. Change the way you see the world, and the world you see will change.
The thought that brought about the images we call "physical" is not neutral, as no thought is neutral. Thought is of mind, and mind is the activating agent of Spirit. What we really are is so beautiful; it is perfect; it is holy. We already are everything we need to be in order to have eternal life. we are eternal life.
Why should we have to earn eternality? It makes more sense to me that we would already be eternal, thus free, thus everything wonderful and alive with eternal validity. It must then follow that we really do know who and what we really are. We have beliefs of sin and punishment because of this universal despair, which is based upon our deep-seated belief that we angered our God. How does perfect Love become angry?
Physicality is images. There is no world. None of the terrible things we think happened, ever really happened. "My brother, what you thought you saw was never there." --A Course in Miracles. Allow that to sink in. What if we remain as created, the way ACIM says? What if we really are eternally safe, but safe because there is no such thing as unsafe. Do you see? I have no knowledge that you do not have.
There is no "outside". Everything is everything. We are one unlimited Self. The tiny instant of fear is gone. It is not our Creator's Will. And so, it never was. Forgive the world; release it. Change the way you see the world, and the world you see will change.
A thought
We sat at length. Understanding that we had simply forgot Who we are, we shared a gentle laugh...for we are one, beloved...we are one. --CJC.
Love as Love is
We fear love because we thought it betrayed us in our creation. It did not. It could not, being the fundamental element of All That Is. Love is the entirety of everything, and so it keeps our creation an eternal moment, a now that stretches infinitely in its glorious and perfect being, this unopposed Something with which we are one. Not just connected to, but one with. All That Is, as that name implies, is everything that we are. Our fear made dreams of separation. "You travel but in dreams, while safe at home." --A Course in Miracles.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
I call him Henry
Sing, Henry;
the flight of a thousand ethereal beings,
their wings a distant thunderstorm;
a highway strings along the foot of a great mountain range,
cold and a low mist makes it colder;
his guitar echoes still, his tenor
still wakes me from dreams of loss;
his resonant vocals speak to me still:
"There is no loss...my friend..."
Sing, Henry.
the flight of a thousand ethereal beings,
their wings a distant thunderstorm;
a highway strings along the foot of a great mountain range,
cold and a low mist makes it colder;
his guitar echoes still, his tenor
still wakes me from dreams of loss;
his resonant vocals speak to me still:
"There is no loss...my friend..."
Sing, Henry.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
We Who Dream, pg 14-21
These simple acts are themselves prayers, as if saying, "I acknowledge your relationship to me. We are one."
On that level, we know we are one. We speak to one another of our soul-desire to share life. Not just physical dream-life, but our whole life--our heritage. But ego declares the physical to be the only true reality.
When that level is reached, we see that we were dreaming, after all. Our eyes are opened, to see that all our arguments were leaves in the wind.
When we speak of levels, we are describing frames of reference, as borders between states. They "exist" so that we know "where" we are.
It's enough that God is. Everything leads to that one truth. But all our concepts and questions add to the confusion.
Here in these pages, we approach simplicity with ego intact. We use words to capture that which exists beyond language. Yes, it is enough that God is.
As I sit tapping the keys, I feel that energy, as an old friend...
The Flow: that urge to write (or paint, or build, or sing). You feel it surround you. Listen to your music. Imagine how the singer feels it. In that tiny space before the music begins, there is perfect silence. She takes a breath, and her clear soprano vibration begins.
And the room is hers.
But you see, all share in it. The audience gives its energy to her, adding to the power of the Flow. Selfhood dances with selfhood. She returns the energy back to the people, and the sharing is complete. Ours is to realize we are one.
People think being one precludes individuality.
If it meant being wholly disconnected from one another, and everything on earth, being unable to communicate, to stagnate in the vacuum of their isolated minds, they would be correct. But individuality means we are free. We remain ever connected to our Source, deny it or not. The child is part of the parent. We may behave as separate as we wish, but we see what can be brought to the world when we do.
I feel it...
Remember, the Flow never leaves. The tide pulls away from the shore, yet remains, having never left. But the ocean has a limit. Spirit does not.
I just took a break, watching the candle. I closed my eyes. The image went deep purple. It almost seemed alive.
The image was no less real than the candle. This teaches you to see without making divisions. In this way, you focus less on non-reality. You can now see beyond concept. We assume that because the inner world is without solidity, it must be unreal. None of our "inner" worlds are any less real than the "outer".
If I dream I hit my thumb with a hammer, it doesn't hurt...how could that be real if there is no pain?
So tied are we to the physical, so wrapped in solidity, we forgot we are spiritual (non-physical) beings. In such forgetting thrive the nightmares we believe hold us captive. Think of the events of 9/11/01. Think of those thrust into action. One moment, ignoring each other. Then suddenly tearing the flesh from their fingers, pulling from the rubble the bodies of their brothers and sisters. Think of the families, declaring to the world their faith. There is a much used, but little understood catch-phrase: "Everything happens for a reason."
Or for the good.
All it means is that God remains in His heaven. For all our shouting, screams in the night, we remain forever held in the Everlasting Arms. If this were untrue, how could people whose lives were turned upside-down still smile, and tell the world that they know they will see their loved ones again? How could this be? "For the good" means nothing is ever lost.
We all turn to God, according to our own belief, and cry, "Where are you?"
We turn as one, hearing as one, the still small voice. Many do not recognize the voice. But increasingly, more begin to understand. Ours is not to pick every event apart, to find the spiritual truth behind it. Ours is to shed light. Let us all in our own way, take spirituality out of theory, and embrace its reality.
Some turned to violence, others to meditation and prayer.
On that day, we stood united, hands held in meditation. Today we stand to declare the presence of the Divine.
We can no longer afford to give lip service to our beliefs.
No longer pretend we are not children of God. We must set aside our differences, find common ground. Life cannot be destroyed. Those who died on that day are more alive than ever.
Where have we gone?
Let us "become" who and what we have always been. People still believe less in what they cannot reach out and touch, and more in what they can grasp with their physical hands, even though they are created of the very thing they deny. Look at the world we have made. Look clearly. The light we speak of is the respiration of infinite love: God. Who walked the earth, knowing his Father lived in his heart...who so taught the world...
The Christ.
That Spirit is alive in all of us. Let us not merely nod, "That is very good", but be filled with that reality which has always thrived within.
We must go beyond theory...
Let us pull our injured minds out of our own devastation. No longer deny that which heals us. For the love, power, peace of God will always be. A year ago, we engaged in a lesson in faith. Does it now speak to you?
Nothing can be taken. Not a flower, not a soul. [ * ]
We do not see the entire picture, cannot see past shadows dancing on the walls of our ego-driven nightmare. But there is a difference between strength, power, and violence. In violence, there is weakness and fear. In strength, there is courage. In power, there is unity.
The Divine Spark.
Father, you are the provider of our every need; you are the courage of our convictions, the song and the singer. You are the call to action, and the action itself. You are our deepest heart. We will never again turn from you, but live eternally in your heaven. Amen.
We are heaven.
Yes, we are the kingdom within. We are the word spoken. We are created in the image and likeness of God.
We will not surely die?
Listen. Beyond the words written here, beyond the skull, and the brain inside, what could there be but the imperative of the Divine to express perfect love to us? Let us remove our beliefs from theoretical complacency, stop giving a polite glance to truth, whatever form we give it. Let us stand together.
There are those who don't believe as we do.
For the soul, belief becomes knowledge. We are not each made by an individual god, but by the one God. Here is His peace revealed as our own.
The peace of the Christ.
He declared with all the authority of his Father within, the absolute power of this peace.
[* When this book began, my wife and I were legally separated. I was staying with her to help her as she recovered from surgery. I had bought her a little plant with a single bloom. One morning as I wrote, I saw the plant didn't look very good, so I took it outside for some sun. The plant later died.]
On that level, we know we are one. We speak to one another of our soul-desire to share life. Not just physical dream-life, but our whole life--our heritage. But ego declares the physical to be the only true reality.
When that level is reached, we see that we were dreaming, after all. Our eyes are opened, to see that all our arguments were leaves in the wind.
When we speak of levels, we are describing frames of reference, as borders between states. They "exist" so that we know "where" we are.
It's enough that God is. Everything leads to that one truth. But all our concepts and questions add to the confusion.
Here in these pages, we approach simplicity with ego intact. We use words to capture that which exists beyond language. Yes, it is enough that God is.
As I sit tapping the keys, I feel that energy, as an old friend...
The Flow: that urge to write (or paint, or build, or sing). You feel it surround you. Listen to your music. Imagine how the singer feels it. In that tiny space before the music begins, there is perfect silence. She takes a breath, and her clear soprano vibration begins.
And the room is hers.
But you see, all share in it. The audience gives its energy to her, adding to the power of the Flow. Selfhood dances with selfhood. She returns the energy back to the people, and the sharing is complete. Ours is to realize we are one.
People think being one precludes individuality.
If it meant being wholly disconnected from one another, and everything on earth, being unable to communicate, to stagnate in the vacuum of their isolated minds, they would be correct. But individuality means we are free. We remain ever connected to our Source, deny it or not. The child is part of the parent. We may behave as separate as we wish, but we see what can be brought to the world when we do.
I feel it...
Remember, the Flow never leaves. The tide pulls away from the shore, yet remains, having never left. But the ocean has a limit. Spirit does not.
I just took a break, watching the candle. I closed my eyes. The image went deep purple. It almost seemed alive.
The image was no less real than the candle. This teaches you to see without making divisions. In this way, you focus less on non-reality. You can now see beyond concept. We assume that because the inner world is without solidity, it must be unreal. None of our "inner" worlds are any less real than the "outer".
If I dream I hit my thumb with a hammer, it doesn't hurt...how could that be real if there is no pain?
So tied are we to the physical, so wrapped in solidity, we forgot we are spiritual (non-physical) beings. In such forgetting thrive the nightmares we believe hold us captive. Think of the events of 9/11/01. Think of those thrust into action. One moment, ignoring each other. Then suddenly tearing the flesh from their fingers, pulling from the rubble the bodies of their brothers and sisters. Think of the families, declaring to the world their faith. There is a much used, but little understood catch-phrase: "Everything happens for a reason."
Or for the good.
All it means is that God remains in His heaven. For all our shouting, screams in the night, we remain forever held in the Everlasting Arms. If this were untrue, how could people whose lives were turned upside-down still smile, and tell the world that they know they will see their loved ones again? How could this be? "For the good" means nothing is ever lost.
We all turn to God, according to our own belief, and cry, "Where are you?"
We turn as one, hearing as one, the still small voice. Many do not recognize the voice. But increasingly, more begin to understand. Ours is not to pick every event apart, to find the spiritual truth behind it. Ours is to shed light. Let us all in our own way, take spirituality out of theory, and embrace its reality.
Some turned to violence, others to meditation and prayer.
On that day, we stood united, hands held in meditation. Today we stand to declare the presence of the Divine.
We can no longer afford to give lip service to our beliefs.
No longer pretend we are not children of God. We must set aside our differences, find common ground. Life cannot be destroyed. Those who died on that day are more alive than ever.
Where have we gone?
Let us "become" who and what we have always been. People still believe less in what they cannot reach out and touch, and more in what they can grasp with their physical hands, even though they are created of the very thing they deny. Look at the world we have made. Look clearly. The light we speak of is the respiration of infinite love: God. Who walked the earth, knowing his Father lived in his heart...who so taught the world...
The Christ.
That Spirit is alive in all of us. Let us not merely nod, "That is very good", but be filled with that reality which has always thrived within.
We must go beyond theory...
Let us pull our injured minds out of our own devastation. No longer deny that which heals us. For the love, power, peace of God will always be. A year ago, we engaged in a lesson in faith. Does it now speak to you?
Nothing can be taken. Not a flower, not a soul. [ * ]
We do not see the entire picture, cannot see past shadows dancing on the walls of our ego-driven nightmare. But there is a difference between strength, power, and violence. In violence, there is weakness and fear. In strength, there is courage. In power, there is unity.
The Divine Spark.
Father, you are the provider of our every need; you are the courage of our convictions, the song and the singer. You are the call to action, and the action itself. You are our deepest heart. We will never again turn from you, but live eternally in your heaven. Amen.
We are heaven.
Yes, we are the kingdom within. We are the word spoken. We are created in the image and likeness of God.
We will not surely die?
Listen. Beyond the words written here, beyond the skull, and the brain inside, what could there be but the imperative of the Divine to express perfect love to us? Let us remove our beliefs from theoretical complacency, stop giving a polite glance to truth, whatever form we give it. Let us stand together.
There are those who don't believe as we do.
For the soul, belief becomes knowledge. We are not each made by an individual god, but by the one God. Here is His peace revealed as our own.
The peace of the Christ.
He declared with all the authority of his Father within, the absolute power of this peace.
[* When this book began, my wife and I were legally separated. I was staying with her to help her as she recovered from surgery. I had bought her a little plant with a single bloom. One morning as I wrote, I saw the plant didn't look very good, so I took it outside for some sun. The plant later died.]
We Who Dream, pg 21
I am still. Hearing angels sing, watching the skies of my soul, I open my heart to Him...He answers.
Good morning. The stars remain in their cycles, one season gives way to the next. As winter approaches, we know He answers before we ask. We will never avert our eyes from Him.
A world walking through the ages, weary of dreams. This is the veil through which we peer.
We must remember that we are the begotten. Here is our healing. There is only God, and what God creates. Here is Divine Love, coursing through us--all of us.
Not in sentimentality...
To go beyond sentiment and see the other as one with us. Look into their eyes--our eyes; their touch our touch. We celebrate the action of Divine Love now. It is not enough to smile vainly at our neighbor, as we keep secret suspicion in our heart. All over the world, people still gather in prayer. Here lies awesome power. And here is another gift: those who have shed the physical are gathered with us, their energy focused with ours. Do we choose to stay in this dream, or find that power, that faith? There are those who believe we are nothing more than brain and muscle and bone. But why has spirituality continued to flow like an eternal river, underneath this scrambling race? Why does it persist, especially at times like this, when it seems the terror would bury it further?
Not just, "Life goes on..."
Who told us this was life? God asked Adam, "Who told you you were naked?" Who told us to be ashamed? There is no one to tell us such things. We never left the heart of God. The story of the serpent in the tree has been transformed into a universal belief in a presence opposed to God. If anything could oppose God, the universe could not have sustained itself--neither song nor singer. Do you feel a presence unlike Him? Evil is everything that God is not. That which is not God is illusion.
I am still. I declare to the physical essence I made, that I remain in the Garden, walking with my Father, my brother beside me. This remains my word.
Good morning. The eternal moment. We continue into the vastness of that which sings and thrives beyond perception. We speak of things apparently unspeakable and untouchable. But we can touch them. There still are more people touching hands, speaking their hearts, than those who would only destroy.
We who pray, regardless the name we give our individual concept of God, turn toward that light now. We're not ashamed, nor afraid to acknowledge our unity.
We are "becoming" what we have always been. We volunteer the depth of our soul to the cries of others, in an instant. We see souls "depart", thus teaching the world what life really is.
Forever...
Not ending, having not begun. That Which we call by many names is real. Refusing to hear the Song will not make it go away.
But there are many who do refuse.
Where is their power? Is it directed to ego, which only makes demands; steals truth and twists it to its own will? Ego is the sum of false belief. Spirit makes no demands. Ego thrives on complexity, While Spirit lives in simplicity. All is well.
The world awakens, stretches, looks around. It sees that it was dreaming all along, that we all remain held in the Arms of the Eternal.
All pain washes away, as rain that dissolves before it touches the ground. Let us recognize the Divine and speak the content of our heart.
Father, we stand to erase all differences, so that we are clear to receive your light. We stand and declare your reality, hands raised to the sky. Nightmares may storm the gates of our united hearts, but still we stand. We who dream shout no more for the pull of that which returns to dust, but dwell here with you, forever. Amen.
I've heard stories of people held in hostile countries, who could actually feel others praying for them.
Prayer is no hollow cry, but the power of soul within the heart of God.
I am still. The Divine waits with infinite patience, as our journey continues...
Good morning. Notice the energy seems low. We have yet to fully open to it. Breathe it in.Begin to feel it. You cannot use it up, for how could the eternal be depleted? As you exhale, allow the body to relax. We do not pull the energy along like a child pulling a wagon. It is all that we are.
We've made idols of our superstitious beliefs, based on our perception. Our fears teach us that God must be feared, too.
And still we continue. All over the world, people continue praying. They know the passing of time matters not. They understand prayer is part of life.
Again, how could that be called weakness?
The tiniest voice, buried by years of abuse, still finds its way to the surface. This is our strength, God in us, our healing.
Because in the deepest heart, we're still whole. The answer remains.
Ego demands, "Where was God when this child was being brutalized!" How could God allow such things to happen (in a world that ego set in motion). For we have made such a world, then place responsibility for its horrors on some mysterious deity, which we also made, in our own image.
We must find our way back.
Let us begin by understanding that our raging has had no effect on our perfect soul. Time to raise voices, not in outrage, but in the love given by our Father. Time to accept our birthright. Allow that mask to be removed, to reveal the radiant face of God.
That which is experienced, not just perceived.
Which we glimpse, even in despair. How much greater must be our full seeing! Return for a moment to the prodigal. His Father, rather than chastise, fell on his neck, and kissed him. What more do we need to know? We will never dream a better home than the only one we have. We are loved beyond explanation or condition. We should dance for joy for the purity of it all. Divine love is ours forever.
Father, ours has been a seeking, and along the way a finding, of but glimpses of you. But we would rather have these flashes alone, than to remain blind. Thank you that you hear us, for we hear you whisper beneath our shouting. We sense your reality behind shadows, and we no longer fear. We know each fleeting glimpse of you is a precursor to awakening. Thank you, Father. Amen.
We seek, all the time thinking the gift is in the destination, but we never left, so along the "journey" answers are found.
Spirit does not just have answers...Spirit is the answer.
I feel the energy...
Let it go. Free that part of you thriving in childlike vision. Dance with it. Reach that in you that could never leave.
This energy isn't contained in a body...
No. This is our way of defining what cannot be defined. Energy cannot be contained, for its nature is freedom. You have no words to describe this creative, eternal, energy.
Forever sings...
No superlative can paint it, no perception behold it.
But sight can.
Sight is the vision of soul. We (ego) peer through a glass darkly, behold our own devices, celebrate our cleverness. Ego tries to cover sight, telling lies in picture form. BELIEVE NO LONGER IN LIES.
I hear the Song of the ages, feel the beat of a kettle drum, hear the shimmer of guitar strings.
Hear this: We all know the Song. For some, the rush of a stream beside their camp; for others the anticipation of what might lie over the next hill. We all are children of the Song. We lift our perception to see one another, to share in its perfect lyric. We hear the call of our siblings, often in astonishment. We look up and find a stranger looking at us, and know at once a mate has been found; wake suddenly, knowing the phone is about to ring. Before we answer, we know the one on the line is a friend in trouble. This is sight, poking holes in our perception.
If physical reality were the answer, why would all sacred teachings describe an afterlife, a "better place"?
What lies "beyond" is true life. When we "left" the Garden, we found we had to survive by the sweat of our brow. We were on our own. God cannot compel us, nor imprison us. We are free to discover ourselves.
We left our perfect oneness, and entered into dreaming.
Why would infinite life create bodies...weak, sick, fragile lumps of clay? God did not create us to die, but to live! Ego declares that to meet God is death, claims it is we who speak morbidly.
God doesn't ordain suffering, or God Himself would suffer. Since He is infinite, then His suffering would be infinite. The universe would have died before it even began.
God remains God. We dream we have turned away from home, and made a world where opposites thrive. But He could never turn from us, to fall into dreaming. Hear His call, listen to the voice...
"Be still, and know, I am God."
["I am still"= a new day, a new session.]
[This page was written just after 9/11.]
Good morning. The stars remain in their cycles, one season gives way to the next. As winter approaches, we know He answers before we ask. We will never avert our eyes from Him.
A world walking through the ages, weary of dreams. This is the veil through which we peer.
We must remember that we are the begotten. Here is our healing. There is only God, and what God creates. Here is Divine Love, coursing through us--all of us.
Not in sentimentality...
To go beyond sentiment and see the other as one with us. Look into their eyes--our eyes; their touch our touch. We celebrate the action of Divine Love now. It is not enough to smile vainly at our neighbor, as we keep secret suspicion in our heart. All over the world, people still gather in prayer. Here lies awesome power. And here is another gift: those who have shed the physical are gathered with us, their energy focused with ours. Do we choose to stay in this dream, or find that power, that faith? There are those who believe we are nothing more than brain and muscle and bone. But why has spirituality continued to flow like an eternal river, underneath this scrambling race? Why does it persist, especially at times like this, when it seems the terror would bury it further?
Not just, "Life goes on..."
Who told us this was life? God asked Adam, "Who told you you were naked?" Who told us to be ashamed? There is no one to tell us such things. We never left the heart of God. The story of the serpent in the tree has been transformed into a universal belief in a presence opposed to God. If anything could oppose God, the universe could not have sustained itself--neither song nor singer. Do you feel a presence unlike Him? Evil is everything that God is not. That which is not God is illusion.
I am still. I declare to the physical essence I made, that I remain in the Garden, walking with my Father, my brother beside me. This remains my word.
Good morning. The eternal moment. We continue into the vastness of that which sings and thrives beyond perception. We speak of things apparently unspeakable and untouchable. But we can touch them. There still are more people touching hands, speaking their hearts, than those who would only destroy.
We who pray, regardless the name we give our individual concept of God, turn toward that light now. We're not ashamed, nor afraid to acknowledge our unity.
We are "becoming" what we have always been. We volunteer the depth of our soul to the cries of others, in an instant. We see souls "depart", thus teaching the world what life really is.
Forever...
Not ending, having not begun. That Which we call by many names is real. Refusing to hear the Song will not make it go away.
But there are many who do refuse.
Where is their power? Is it directed to ego, which only makes demands; steals truth and twists it to its own will? Ego is the sum of false belief. Spirit makes no demands. Ego thrives on complexity, While Spirit lives in simplicity. All is well.
The world awakens, stretches, looks around. It sees that it was dreaming all along, that we all remain held in the Arms of the Eternal.
All pain washes away, as rain that dissolves before it touches the ground. Let us recognize the Divine and speak the content of our heart.
Father, we stand to erase all differences, so that we are clear to receive your light. We stand and declare your reality, hands raised to the sky. Nightmares may storm the gates of our united hearts, but still we stand. We who dream shout no more for the pull of that which returns to dust, but dwell here with you, forever. Amen.
I've heard stories of people held in hostile countries, who could actually feel others praying for them.
Prayer is no hollow cry, but the power of soul within the heart of God.
I am still. The Divine waits with infinite patience, as our journey continues...
Good morning. Notice the energy seems low. We have yet to fully open to it. Breathe it in.Begin to feel it. You cannot use it up, for how could the eternal be depleted? As you exhale, allow the body to relax. We do not pull the energy along like a child pulling a wagon. It is all that we are.
We've made idols of our superstitious beliefs, based on our perception. Our fears teach us that God must be feared, too.
And still we continue. All over the world, people continue praying. They know the passing of time matters not. They understand prayer is part of life.
Again, how could that be called weakness?
The tiniest voice, buried by years of abuse, still finds its way to the surface. This is our strength, God in us, our healing.
Because in the deepest heart, we're still whole. The answer remains.
Ego demands, "Where was God when this child was being brutalized!" How could God allow such things to happen (in a world that ego set in motion). For we have made such a world, then place responsibility for its horrors on some mysterious deity, which we also made, in our own image.
We must find our way back.
Let us begin by understanding that our raging has had no effect on our perfect soul. Time to raise voices, not in outrage, but in the love given by our Father. Time to accept our birthright. Allow that mask to be removed, to reveal the radiant face of God.
That which is experienced, not just perceived.
Which we glimpse, even in despair. How much greater must be our full seeing! Return for a moment to the prodigal. His Father, rather than chastise, fell on his neck, and kissed him. What more do we need to know? We will never dream a better home than the only one we have. We are loved beyond explanation or condition. We should dance for joy for the purity of it all. Divine love is ours forever.
Father, ours has been a seeking, and along the way a finding, of but glimpses of you. But we would rather have these flashes alone, than to remain blind. Thank you that you hear us, for we hear you whisper beneath our shouting. We sense your reality behind shadows, and we no longer fear. We know each fleeting glimpse of you is a precursor to awakening. Thank you, Father. Amen.
We seek, all the time thinking the gift is in the destination, but we never left, so along the "journey" answers are found.
Spirit does not just have answers...Spirit is the answer.
I feel the energy...
Let it go. Free that part of you thriving in childlike vision. Dance with it. Reach that in you that could never leave.
This energy isn't contained in a body...
No. This is our way of defining what cannot be defined. Energy cannot be contained, for its nature is freedom. You have no words to describe this creative, eternal, energy.
Forever sings...
No superlative can paint it, no perception behold it.
But sight can.
Sight is the vision of soul. We (ego) peer through a glass darkly, behold our own devices, celebrate our cleverness. Ego tries to cover sight, telling lies in picture form. BELIEVE NO LONGER IN LIES.
I hear the Song of the ages, feel the beat of a kettle drum, hear the shimmer of guitar strings.
Hear this: We all know the Song. For some, the rush of a stream beside their camp; for others the anticipation of what might lie over the next hill. We all are children of the Song. We lift our perception to see one another, to share in its perfect lyric. We hear the call of our siblings, often in astonishment. We look up and find a stranger looking at us, and know at once a mate has been found; wake suddenly, knowing the phone is about to ring. Before we answer, we know the one on the line is a friend in trouble. This is sight, poking holes in our perception.
If physical reality were the answer, why would all sacred teachings describe an afterlife, a "better place"?
What lies "beyond" is true life. When we "left" the Garden, we found we had to survive by the sweat of our brow. We were on our own. God cannot compel us, nor imprison us. We are free to discover ourselves.
We left our perfect oneness, and entered into dreaming.
Why would infinite life create bodies...weak, sick, fragile lumps of clay? God did not create us to die, but to live! Ego declares that to meet God is death, claims it is we who speak morbidly.
God doesn't ordain suffering, or God Himself would suffer. Since He is infinite, then His suffering would be infinite. The universe would have died before it even began.
God remains God. We dream we have turned away from home, and made a world where opposites thrive. But He could never turn from us, to fall into dreaming. Hear His call, listen to the voice...
"Be still, and know, I am God."
["I am still"= a new day, a new session.]
[This page was written just after 9/11.]
We Who Dream, pg 31
As we write, we have no idea what God is. And yet we experience the reality of God. We feel His love because we are created of it. These words form a path already traveled. Many have gone ahead, written books, given lectures, teaching this one thing, based upon their own interpretation. This is why the Christ said, "I am the way." There is one way, but many ways to get there.
So many religions...
Some great, some small. But if each had its own heaven, its own hell, the universe would have collapsed long ago.
The chaos of a deity gone mad.
But God is not mad. Neither then are we. Truth is, we cannot resist His light. We cannot resist healing. We cannot resist our own recognition of that presence and power greater than ourselves.
Many see these times as proof the end is near.
And many see a beginning. The world is slowly (in our terms) coming together. Let us be willing for Spirit to awaken us.
Is this an easy thing?
There is no effort in mind. Ego teaches from a false text. We made the choice. We can be willing to see the light.
Now--not in some vague future.
Now is eternal. Know that we are wrapped in the Divine embrace. See courage amid bedlam. See something as simple as a hand on the shoulder of a loved one. Or shall we continue to roll our eyes at anything that distracts us from our fond cynicism? It is the purpose of the world to discover that peace was there all along.
Father, we come to you now, in the Grace you have placed in our hearts. We come as one, seeking light for all. In seeking, we find your perfect love. In finding, we are instantly healed of illusions of separation. Thank you, Father. Amen.
God is real.
A message that has survived centuries.
This stubborn faith.
Which can only be real. But this word cannot come close to describing Spirit. And yet we feel it, never again to cling to a vain hope, now that we have come this much closer to reality.
Because once we do, we're changed.
We move from theory to faith, faith to courage, courage to strength, and strength to compassion. Nothing will do but to declare this power from the highest peak of our enlightenment. Ours is to move forward, into that light.
Using the power, but blindly, we look "out" in separation and make this world that distracts us from God. We must dig and scratch our way out of this nightmare, and remember.
The Christ teaches us to come within and close the door, to meet the Father in secret. There is no digging or scratching. Only calm. What is there to block us from our home?
A cloud of separation, a vapor of ego.
We have feared shadows too long, walking a false road with many detours. Nightmares within dreams, until we believe in only what assails us. But all the while, One goes with us, whispering truth.
So many religions...
Some great, some small. But if each had its own heaven, its own hell, the universe would have collapsed long ago.
The chaos of a deity gone mad.
But God is not mad. Neither then are we. Truth is, we cannot resist His light. We cannot resist healing. We cannot resist our own recognition of that presence and power greater than ourselves.
Many see these times as proof the end is near.
And many see a beginning. The world is slowly (in our terms) coming together. Let us be willing for Spirit to awaken us.
Is this an easy thing?
There is no effort in mind. Ego teaches from a false text. We made the choice. We can be willing to see the light.
Now--not in some vague future.
Now is eternal. Know that we are wrapped in the Divine embrace. See courage amid bedlam. See something as simple as a hand on the shoulder of a loved one. Or shall we continue to roll our eyes at anything that distracts us from our fond cynicism? It is the purpose of the world to discover that peace was there all along.
Father, we come to you now, in the Grace you have placed in our hearts. We come as one, seeking light for all. In seeking, we find your perfect love. In finding, we are instantly healed of illusions of separation. Thank you, Father. Amen.
God is real.
A message that has survived centuries.
This stubborn faith.
Which can only be real. But this word cannot come close to describing Spirit. And yet we feel it, never again to cling to a vain hope, now that we have come this much closer to reality.
Because once we do, we're changed.
We move from theory to faith, faith to courage, courage to strength, and strength to compassion. Nothing will do but to declare this power from the highest peak of our enlightenment. Ours is to move forward, into that light.
Using the power, but blindly, we look "out" in separation and make this world that distracts us from God. We must dig and scratch our way out of this nightmare, and remember.
The Christ teaches us to come within and close the door, to meet the Father in secret. There is no digging or scratching. Only calm. What is there to block us from our home?
A cloud of separation, a vapor of ego.
We have feared shadows too long, walking a false road with many detours. Nightmares within dreams, until we believe in only what assails us. But all the while, One goes with us, whispering truth.
We Who Dream, pg 34
With a gentle smile.
The smile reminds us that for all our detours into darkness, we have but to see.
To embrace that which embraces us.
To lift up our eyes, raise our voice, sing to the heavens the Song we have long heard in our heart...to see our brother without mistrust.
I am still. I hear surf crashing against rock, wind rush through timber, and somehow...somewhere, I hear snow falling.
Good morning. We can nearly hear the earth turn.
The Flow feels different...
You feel alive, but not in physical terms. You feel the door open wider. In your stillness, you see beyond appearances. You feel the scales falling from your eyes.
I feel a great patience.
The perfect patience of knowing. Its origin is Divine love.
That love for which we need not ask.
We are the result of love. "Everything else is commentary."
Then we are love, the truth beneath that which appears.
This is how we hold our world together. It is as if we were actors, somehow stuck in character, forgetting the whole thing is a play.
The roles we play keep us from knowing who we are.
We remain ever safe and whole. Close your eyes and see; shut off your ears and hear.
We're afraid to look, afraid of what we might find.
And no wonder. The world believes God to be angry, all too human, with love in one hand, and punishment in the other. Who would seek to go that deep, to risk such betrayal of their faith?
The world has been afraid too long.
We have too long ignored the presence of God in us. We attend services, perform rituals. But God remains unreal to us, an impossible ideal. We must recognize one another. Let us see at last the unreality of the veil.
To love my neighbor as myself.
And your Father, with all you heart, mind, and soul.
Easy to say...
Why? Who told you so? There is no one to tell you such lies. Who told you to be ashamed? Might as well stay in the shadows, conversing with serpents.
How could I have come so far, yet forgotten so much? How could I have forsaken my brother, thus myself?
Yes, how, you with unseeing eyes, unhearing ears. And yet, how are you able to write so? Where faith, where vision? From what part of the brain did these originate? From which place of tissue, blood and nerve-firing comes the still small voice? How glad are we that the patience of God knows no end.
I am still. I hear the language of silence, feel the touch of the Invisible, the flowing, endless waters.
Good morning. Yes, we hear the rush of that Divine river, running beneath our cries. How long before we stop and listen?
How long before we kneel at its bank and drink?
Perhaps one more class, one more lesson; one more bite of what that old snake has to offer.
What does God offer but no more fragile bodies, no more veiled eyes?
No more nightmares. Listen. Hear that voice. It does not matter by what name we call it, does not matter that we tell ourselves we cannot hear it, or that at times it seems absent.
Father, we do not care that we do not yet see you. We turn to you anyway, knowing our not seeing is illusion. We will never stop listening to your voice. We are whole by virtue of your love. Our faith is a rock. On this rock we still stand. Thank you, Father. Amen.
No matter what appears, Spirit comes through.
How else to heal?
God whispers through the cloud, the "real" world vanishes.
Calm so complete, we see in an instant that we were chasing mist. Take this joy, give it, wherever you go.
["Father", and "He" have nothing to do with gender here. I do not believe God is gender-specific.]
The smile reminds us that for all our detours into darkness, we have but to see.
To embrace that which embraces us.
To lift up our eyes, raise our voice, sing to the heavens the Song we have long heard in our heart...to see our brother without mistrust.
I am still. I hear surf crashing against rock, wind rush through timber, and somehow...somewhere, I hear snow falling.
Good morning. We can nearly hear the earth turn.
The Flow feels different...
You feel alive, but not in physical terms. You feel the door open wider. In your stillness, you see beyond appearances. You feel the scales falling from your eyes.
I feel a great patience.
The perfect patience of knowing. Its origin is Divine love.
That love for which we need not ask.
We are the result of love. "Everything else is commentary."
Then we are love, the truth beneath that which appears.
This is how we hold our world together. It is as if we were actors, somehow stuck in character, forgetting the whole thing is a play.
The roles we play keep us from knowing who we are.
We remain ever safe and whole. Close your eyes and see; shut off your ears and hear.
We're afraid to look, afraid of what we might find.
And no wonder. The world believes God to be angry, all too human, with love in one hand, and punishment in the other. Who would seek to go that deep, to risk such betrayal of their faith?
The world has been afraid too long.
We have too long ignored the presence of God in us. We attend services, perform rituals. But God remains unreal to us, an impossible ideal. We must recognize one another. Let us see at last the unreality of the veil.
To love my neighbor as myself.
And your Father, with all you heart, mind, and soul.
Easy to say...
Why? Who told you so? There is no one to tell you such lies. Who told you to be ashamed? Might as well stay in the shadows, conversing with serpents.
How could I have come so far, yet forgotten so much? How could I have forsaken my brother, thus myself?
Yes, how, you with unseeing eyes, unhearing ears. And yet, how are you able to write so? Where faith, where vision? From what part of the brain did these originate? From which place of tissue, blood and nerve-firing comes the still small voice? How glad are we that the patience of God knows no end.
I am still. I hear the language of silence, feel the touch of the Invisible, the flowing, endless waters.
Good morning. Yes, we hear the rush of that Divine river, running beneath our cries. How long before we stop and listen?
How long before we kneel at its bank and drink?
Perhaps one more class, one more lesson; one more bite of what that old snake has to offer.
What does God offer but no more fragile bodies, no more veiled eyes?
No more nightmares. Listen. Hear that voice. It does not matter by what name we call it, does not matter that we tell ourselves we cannot hear it, or that at times it seems absent.
Father, we do not care that we do not yet see you. We turn to you anyway, knowing our not seeing is illusion. We will never stop listening to your voice. We are whole by virtue of your love. Our faith is a rock. On this rock we still stand. Thank you, Father. Amen.
No matter what appears, Spirit comes through.
How else to heal?
God whispers through the cloud, the "real" world vanishes.
Calm so complete, we see in an instant that we were chasing mist. Take this joy, give it, wherever you go.
["Father", and "He" have nothing to do with gender here. I do not believe God is gender-specific.]
We Who Dream, pg 39
I am still. The Flow seems quiet, not yet invited forward by the rhythm of my heart. Now with my seventh breath, I feel that familiar rush.
Good morning! There is still joy in the world. If not for this, nothing could exist. There is more at work than we can see. For we see but the reflection of our fear. We do not see what lies beyond, yet we are created of it.
Some see flashes.
The door ajar, a sliver of light.
Sometimes it takes years for that door to open.
The process may last a lifetime, but patience is more than a virtue--it is a universal constant. Now turn to the light. Forget all these words. Only think on this: you are loved. You have not left. You, beloved child, could never be but home. Know the nature of love, until every word spoken or thought in anger, every terrible image, is revealed and cast away.
I go beyond words, to focus on the Source, that which saves me from delusion, that which sings.
As a child, continue to see it. Allow faith, allow love. These words come from the life in every one of us.
How could we not see it?
Come, be the reason you were born. Do not fear that the words cannot describe the call of your heart. Allow God to love you. You cannot disallow it. Ego cannot love. It only tells lies. God is truth. Come.
Nowhere else to go.
Experience it, here in the now. You wonder how it could possibly translate to paper. It already has, over thousands of years. Come.
Waves of energy, peace...
(Breathe). Nothing else is needed. You are your every need met. Come.
I hear the small voice. I feel the presence.
You are not the light, yet the light is all that you are. This is what "part of it" means.
Father, we do feel your power and presence. We see your light, shining in our brother's eyes. Each time we come to you, we are changed, yet not changed, for it is but the lifting of the veil. We reach our hands to the stars, look to your reality, and we see. Amen.
This is just a glimpse. How much more...
Now to some, this would be much ado about nothing. But there are those who have seen as we, and more. There is healing here, in this transcendent understanding.
Shadow to light.
From this experience comes the sharing of what we have found. A wise woman once said to you, "We are all troubled." The other "side" of that is God. But not enough to read of someone else's experience. Each comes in their own time.
Class time must be followed by practice.
Yes. Learning is repetition. But remember, words cover more than reveal. In prayer, the word and the action are the same.
So if one prays for work, then goes out to look for a job, That action is not separate from the act of prayer.
They are the same. We must understand the reality behind the words we use.
What I sense can't be put into words. Every gift opened, mother's love. Every selfless act, every joy, multiplied to infinity.
Loaves and fishes. The more you visit, the more you want to stay.
I just felt the Flow increase.
Had it decreased? The Flow does not come and go--you do.
Miracles all around me--the sun rises, birds sing. Music from a spinning disk...
You are learning that to love your brother is to love yourself. Now raise your hands to the heavens. Allow the music to carry you away. Transcend yourself by finding yourself. Some think this is a waste of time, because they believe the brain is all. They accept nothing beyond.
The brain dictates what the body does, but what tells the brain...
Individualized mind touches truth, filters through this physical expression, thus making worlds. But God knows His own nature, the truth beneath what appears. Where is there to stand, but here in the light?
Saying these things doesn't make it so.
But what is so allows us to say it. There is perfect life within us all, which gives us the power to say these things. The world struggles to keep hold of a past that never was. The only "time" is now. Ours is not to be responsible for what is so. It is enough that God knows.
True faith is never in vain. True faith is power.
Is faith a cry in the dark, or calm knowing? Is it the love of one body for another, or that of God for what God has created?
For bodies pass away, but the word will never pass.
For in nightmares, the light is still seen, the word still heard. We do not sleep so deeply that we cannot reach our Father's hand.
Our sleep is only a turning away.
We are blinded by the glare of physical existence. But the light of home never blinds. It matters not at all how many more words we write here. We are home. Home is what matters to the far traveler; waking is what matters to the one dreaming. For what awaits our waking but the infinity of our Father's treasure? How far wandered, yet not a step taken...how long slept, yet nothing missed! Do hear these things. Speak what is given to speak. Our Father has everything for us. Nothing has been destroyed. God creates everything whole.
Good morning! There is still joy in the world. If not for this, nothing could exist. There is more at work than we can see. For we see but the reflection of our fear. We do not see what lies beyond, yet we are created of it.
Some see flashes.
The door ajar, a sliver of light.
Sometimes it takes years for that door to open.
The process may last a lifetime, but patience is more than a virtue--it is a universal constant. Now turn to the light. Forget all these words. Only think on this: you are loved. You have not left. You, beloved child, could never be but home. Know the nature of love, until every word spoken or thought in anger, every terrible image, is revealed and cast away.
I go beyond words, to focus on the Source, that which saves me from delusion, that which sings.
As a child, continue to see it. Allow faith, allow love. These words come from the life in every one of us.
How could we not see it?
Come, be the reason you were born. Do not fear that the words cannot describe the call of your heart. Allow God to love you. You cannot disallow it. Ego cannot love. It only tells lies. God is truth. Come.
Nowhere else to go.
Experience it, here in the now. You wonder how it could possibly translate to paper. It already has, over thousands of years. Come.
Waves of energy, peace...
(Breathe). Nothing else is needed. You are your every need met. Come.
I hear the small voice. I feel the presence.
You are not the light, yet the light is all that you are. This is what "part of it" means.
Father, we do feel your power and presence. We see your light, shining in our brother's eyes. Each time we come to you, we are changed, yet not changed, for it is but the lifting of the veil. We reach our hands to the stars, look to your reality, and we see. Amen.
This is just a glimpse. How much more...
Now to some, this would be much ado about nothing. But there are those who have seen as we, and more. There is healing here, in this transcendent understanding.
Shadow to light.
From this experience comes the sharing of what we have found. A wise woman once said to you, "We are all troubled." The other "side" of that is God. But not enough to read of someone else's experience. Each comes in their own time.
Class time must be followed by practice.
Yes. Learning is repetition. But remember, words cover more than reveal. In prayer, the word and the action are the same.
So if one prays for work, then goes out to look for a job, That action is not separate from the act of prayer.
They are the same. We must understand the reality behind the words we use.
What I sense can't be put into words. Every gift opened, mother's love. Every selfless act, every joy, multiplied to infinity.
Loaves and fishes. The more you visit, the more you want to stay.
I just felt the Flow increase.
Had it decreased? The Flow does not come and go--you do.
Miracles all around me--the sun rises, birds sing. Music from a spinning disk...
You are learning that to love your brother is to love yourself. Now raise your hands to the heavens. Allow the music to carry you away. Transcend yourself by finding yourself. Some think this is a waste of time, because they believe the brain is all. They accept nothing beyond.
The brain dictates what the body does, but what tells the brain...
Individualized mind touches truth, filters through this physical expression, thus making worlds. But God knows His own nature, the truth beneath what appears. Where is there to stand, but here in the light?
Saying these things doesn't make it so.
But what is so allows us to say it. There is perfect life within us all, which gives us the power to say these things. The world struggles to keep hold of a past that never was. The only "time" is now. Ours is not to be responsible for what is so. It is enough that God knows.
True faith is never in vain. True faith is power.
Is faith a cry in the dark, or calm knowing? Is it the love of one body for another, or that of God for what God has created?
For bodies pass away, but the word will never pass.
For in nightmares, the light is still seen, the word still heard. We do not sleep so deeply that we cannot reach our Father's hand.
Our sleep is only a turning away.
We are blinded by the glare of physical existence. But the light of home never blinds. It matters not at all how many more words we write here. We are home. Home is what matters to the far traveler; waking is what matters to the one dreaming. For what awaits our waking but the infinity of our Father's treasure? How far wandered, yet not a step taken...how long slept, yet nothing missed! Do hear these things. Speak what is given to speak. Our Father has everything for us. Nothing has been destroyed. God creates everything whole.
We Who Dream, pg 10
...In this way, [deep, subconscious knowing] we know we are using the power. Through prayer and meditation, we come to that last layer, and strip it away. After all, we are children of God. Simplicity has given rise to sight, so we now see more clearly. Is this not the answer to our prayer?
To open our eyes for real this time, not as a dream.
To open our true eyes.
People will say it's too simplistic.
People will say many things. But remember, this is just a book. Spirit speaks through us, speaks through all, simple and uncluttered. Every day, let us be still. Read what books inspire, listen to what music lifts the soul, but get still.
We get so caught up in the world. Everything happens at the speed of light. We can send a message from here to Australia in the blink of an eye. No wonder we've become so impatient.
We have convinced ourselves that this world is real. We maintain this delusion because we fear that if we do not, we will surely die. Physical reality crumbles away, even as we form it. As we type these words, a few miles to the west, the Rocky Mountains rise from the earth. But they are falling away, too slowly for the eyes to see. After millions of years, they will be hills. Millions more, a plain. Ego chooses not to see such things.
So deeply turned from home, we're actually suspicious when we hear its call. Anything that pulls our attention from the world is subject to scorn.
Our turning from God is illusion. We are home. Prayer has been placed on a shelf, to be pulled out as a last resort. It is often seen as weakness, but there is great strength in giving up the shouting of ego for the whisper of God. When we pray affirmatively, give thanks for what we do not yet see, what greater strength! How could it be weak to sit in awe, tears of joy falling, hands raised to the dawn?
The dawn. That physical act of the earth turning is a symbol of our awakening...from dark to light.
Let us begin to see beyond symbols, to the simplicity of experience. Let us know the reality of God. Even the most devout have trouble moving past the point of theory, but it is only fear of the unknown.
"Tears of joy". Some fear not only weakness, but a loss of control.
We speak of joyful tears because when we are faced with the reality of God, we face the removal of our perception.
Let's prove it to ourselves. After attending classes, reading books, get inside, and prove there's really something beyond that lump of flesh we call, "Brain".
In this way, we demonstrate our freedom to find ourselves, for there is no possibility of our becoming lost. Now, these are mere words, little marks on a screen, that will find their way onto paper. Some readers will respond favorably, some will not. Those who do, are not more found than those who do not. As part of God, we are perfect. It is ego that tells us otherwise. Perfect life could never create imperfection, for that life itself would be imperfect.
"Perfect" is a human concept.
God did not tell Moses, "I am this or that"; God said, "I am that I am." We approach truth, "dragging" ego with us. God is. This utter simplicity drives ego to distraction. Ego sees the world as complicated. Clearly, God must be even more so. Since it is done as we believe, God will seem to be the same mass of complexities we find in ourselves.
I think of all the words written--metaphysical, fundamentalist, scientific--all searching for meaning. Someone said the only thing to remember is what we know as, The Golden Rule.
"What is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow creature. That is the whole law; the rest is commentary." --Rabbi Hillel, first century. (Oxford Companion to the Bible.) Yes, millions of words, written and spoken. This is the search for God, that mysterious "Something" that whispers to each. The Rule is the key to life, the principle that carries over into the every day world. We hold a door open for someone behind us, let another car merge ahead, (or try to save a flower from certain death.)
(Pg. 10-14.)
[I forgot that for the reader to get the pages in the right order, I must put them in "backwards."]
To open our eyes for real this time, not as a dream.
To open our true eyes.
People will say it's too simplistic.
People will say many things. But remember, this is just a book. Spirit speaks through us, speaks through all, simple and uncluttered. Every day, let us be still. Read what books inspire, listen to what music lifts the soul, but get still.
We get so caught up in the world. Everything happens at the speed of light. We can send a message from here to Australia in the blink of an eye. No wonder we've become so impatient.
We have convinced ourselves that this world is real. We maintain this delusion because we fear that if we do not, we will surely die. Physical reality crumbles away, even as we form it. As we type these words, a few miles to the west, the Rocky Mountains rise from the earth. But they are falling away, too slowly for the eyes to see. After millions of years, they will be hills. Millions more, a plain. Ego chooses not to see such things.
So deeply turned from home, we're actually suspicious when we hear its call. Anything that pulls our attention from the world is subject to scorn.
Our turning from God is illusion. We are home. Prayer has been placed on a shelf, to be pulled out as a last resort. It is often seen as weakness, but there is great strength in giving up the shouting of ego for the whisper of God. When we pray affirmatively, give thanks for what we do not yet see, what greater strength! How could it be weak to sit in awe, tears of joy falling, hands raised to the dawn?
The dawn. That physical act of the earth turning is a symbol of our awakening...from dark to light.
Let us begin to see beyond symbols, to the simplicity of experience. Let us know the reality of God. Even the most devout have trouble moving past the point of theory, but it is only fear of the unknown.
"Tears of joy". Some fear not only weakness, but a loss of control.
We speak of joyful tears because when we are faced with the reality of God, we face the removal of our perception.
Let's prove it to ourselves. After attending classes, reading books, get inside, and prove there's really something beyond that lump of flesh we call, "Brain".
In this way, we demonstrate our freedom to find ourselves, for there is no possibility of our becoming lost. Now, these are mere words, little marks on a screen, that will find their way onto paper. Some readers will respond favorably, some will not. Those who do, are not more found than those who do not. As part of God, we are perfect. It is ego that tells us otherwise. Perfect life could never create imperfection, for that life itself would be imperfect.
"Perfect" is a human concept.
God did not tell Moses, "I am this or that"; God said, "I am that I am." We approach truth, "dragging" ego with us. God is. This utter simplicity drives ego to distraction. Ego sees the world as complicated. Clearly, God must be even more so. Since it is done as we believe, God will seem to be the same mass of complexities we find in ourselves.
I think of all the words written--metaphysical, fundamentalist, scientific--all searching for meaning. Someone said the only thing to remember is what we know as, The Golden Rule.
"What is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow creature. That is the whole law; the rest is commentary." --Rabbi Hillel, first century. (Oxford Companion to the Bible.) Yes, millions of words, written and spoken. This is the search for God, that mysterious "Something" that whispers to each. The Rule is the key to life, the principle that carries over into the every day world. We hold a door open for someone behind us, let another car merge ahead, (or try to save a flower from certain death.)
(Pg. 10-14.)
[I forgot that for the reader to get the pages in the right order, I must put them in "backwards."]
Sunday, March 29, 2009
May Peace Tell Us
May peace tell us we are free at last.
May its song carry broadly to a far shore,
its rhythms and melodies along the hills.
May a world tired of self-loathing wake,
wake and return to sanity.
May peace turn our heads, catch these dreams.
Catch each one, the light overcomes.
May peace one day tell us we had always been free.
Something saved us long ago from our dreaming,
dreaming selves.
May peace one day overlay the earth, and heal the world.
May its song carry broadly to a far shore,
its rhythms and melodies along the hills.
May a world tired of self-loathing wake,
wake and return to sanity.
May peace turn our heads, catch these dreams.
Catch each one, the light overcomes.
May peace one day tell us we had always been free.
Something saved us long ago from our dreaming,
dreaming selves.
May peace one day overlay the earth, and heal the world.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
It Ripples
Someone once saw a homeless man sleeping in a chair in the public library. It was very cold outside. This someone turned to go home, and found in the foyer an old discarded pair of winter gloves. He went back and put the gloves next to the sleeping man, then went home.
Who knows how our actions affect others?
Someone dreams of a world like this one but somehow better.
Someone cleans the drinking fountain at work...someone else laughs: "Why bother? It's out of order." Someone shakes his head and continues.
We have been taught that dreams (thoughts) are as nothing. We further are taught that a person is powerless to effect change. Someone still thinks of Martin Luther King, thinks of Mahatma Gandhi, Rosa Parks...Someone sighs...
Someone turns and the boy in the shopping cart stands and puts his little arms out, not knowing the danger. He takes the boy, because if not, he would fall. The mother is not afraid, she understands...is thankful. Herein lies peace.
Why do we still not realize the power we have? The world we see was built on dreams.
Someone notices his surroundings...strange cars parked on the street? Not in fear, but watchful for himself and his neighbors. Herein lies peace.
It ripples. Need not name it, as one patiently explains to the confused shopper what "unsweetened orange juice" means: "You mean it has no sugar?" "It has no added sugar; just the natural sugar of the oranges." He had to just walk away from that one...she could not understand. But the effort had been made, do you see?
Someone sees a violent bank robbery on TV then realizes it's a commercial. And society wonders about its warring. That ripples, too.
She was a hospice volunteer, and when the old man died, her calm yet loving manner was poetic as she followed each ordained step...everything in our terms is a process...Yes, peace.
Why do we scan everything in a big rush...Read. Every. Word.
The lady let the gentlemen go ahead of her at checkout, so before he left, he gave the checker a twenty-dollar bill and requested it be put toward part of her groceries. "We are one people".
Freed the slaves, expelled the British, sat in the front of the bus, had a dream, wrote a song about poems, prayers, and promises, sailed past a Grand Lady holding aloft a great torch...inspired us to think hope might be once more upon the land. That ripples, too. And sings. Or chants. Or shouts, "Amen!" Or, "And so it is". Or, "I don't believe..."
A single pebble strikes the surface, ripples.
Who knows how our actions affect others?
Someone dreams of a world like this one but somehow better.
Someone cleans the drinking fountain at work...someone else laughs: "Why bother? It's out of order." Someone shakes his head and continues.
We have been taught that dreams (thoughts) are as nothing. We further are taught that a person is powerless to effect change. Someone still thinks of Martin Luther King, thinks of Mahatma Gandhi, Rosa Parks...Someone sighs...
Someone turns and the boy in the shopping cart stands and puts his little arms out, not knowing the danger. He takes the boy, because if not, he would fall. The mother is not afraid, she understands...is thankful. Herein lies peace.
Why do we still not realize the power we have? The world we see was built on dreams.
Someone notices his surroundings...strange cars parked on the street? Not in fear, but watchful for himself and his neighbors. Herein lies peace.
It ripples. Need not name it, as one patiently explains to the confused shopper what "unsweetened orange juice" means: "You mean it has no sugar?" "It has no added sugar; just the natural sugar of the oranges." He had to just walk away from that one...she could not understand. But the effort had been made, do you see?
Someone sees a violent bank robbery on TV then realizes it's a commercial. And society wonders about its warring. That ripples, too.
She was a hospice volunteer, and when the old man died, her calm yet loving manner was poetic as she followed each ordained step...everything in our terms is a process...Yes, peace.
Why do we scan everything in a big rush...Read. Every. Word.
The lady let the gentlemen go ahead of her at checkout, so before he left, he gave the checker a twenty-dollar bill and requested it be put toward part of her groceries. "We are one people".
Freed the slaves, expelled the British, sat in the front of the bus, had a dream, wrote a song about poems, prayers, and promises, sailed past a Grand Lady holding aloft a great torch...inspired us to think hope might be once more upon the land. That ripples, too. And sings. Or chants. Or shouts, "Amen!" Or, "And so it is". Or, "I don't believe..."
A single pebble strikes the surface, ripples.
Mom Made Her Transition Today...
Mom Made Her Transition Today Hotlist
by wewhodream [Subscribe] [Edit Diary]
Sun Feb 01, 2009 at 06:36:35 AM MST
...Two or three years ago. I don't remember exactly. I don't believe in death. Or time, for that matter.
I see tons of differing beliefs or lack thereof here on our site. [Originally posted on Daily Kos.] I see fear and anger and sorrow and memorials. I believe all are needed. We need all of us so we can wake up and realize we never left Home.
The thing is, I don't write this, or anything else because I want you to believe what I believe. How boring would that be? We all believe what we believe, and I know there are those here who would appreciate my writing this diary this early Sunday morning.
* wewhodream's diary :: ::
*
We would go spoonin', Mom and I. When I was a very young boy (in our terms of time), we would sit on the front porch (in our terms of space), and we would hold hands and look at the moon. "It's a spoonin' moon," she would say to me, looking out at the big white full object in the dark sky. "Come on, Cowboy. Let's go spoonin'."
Mom was born in Sioux City, Iowa in 1930--something. (I'm not being irreverent--the details do not matter that much to me--.) When she was sixteen, the family moved to Denver, where she eventually met my dad...he had left college in northern California, got in his Ford and drove east. Ran out of money as he got to Denver...there only seem to be coincidences. Mom was around 21, had almost enlisted in the Navy, just like her baby brother...she had five siblings: three brothers, two sisters. The baby is the only brother left. The sisters are still here...again, in our terms...Mom and Dad married in an old church in downtown Denver. 1952, I think. Went back to California. Divorced in 1970. We came back to Denver, Mom, my sister and me.
I had weird seizures when I was around one or two. High fevers so hot I lost enamel off my teeth...that is the story, anyway. Always had this preternatural sense of things spiritual. Mom encouraged this in me, herself quite creative and artistically gifted. She painted (oil), specializing in portraits. Sometime in the early '60s, she took the Famous Artists Course (Dad had taken the Famous Writers Course). One day she received a call from a member of the Board of the Course. He told her how impressed he was with her work and so on...encouraged her to keep at it as she had real talent. That man was Norman Rockwell.
It is the love, you see. That's what matters. It turns out the only thing real in the world we see is love. And the weird thing is, down deep inside, we all know it.
Mom was interested in things non-physical: Reincarnation, out-of-body travel, that sort of thing. None of that ever was strange to me, but wholly natural. Certainly not super-natural. It doesn't matter. It's the love. I heard an interview some years ago. A famous actress whose name escapes me, told a story about how she was at the bedside of a dear friend dying of AIDS. He would go in and out of consciousness. Each time he was "out", he would stay a little longer, then wake up. The last time he awoke, he looked at his friend, his eyes lucid and clear. His face alight with a strange peace. "I saw it! It's all about love!" Then he made his transition.
One night, Mom "traveled" back to Denver because she had been worried about her own mom, undergoing her first cancer surgery. Mom had spoken with Grandpa earlier that evening. Grandma was at that point just being wheeled into the operating room. Mom was so worried that in the middle of the night she got up, put on her fire engine-red fuzzy bathrobe we kids had given her that Christmas, glided to the bedroom door, turned and saw her physical body still lying next to my dad. She turned and moved along our hallway. She made it to the center of the hallway, and went through an invisible wall, and found herself in my grandparents hallway in Denver. 1200 miles away, in our terms of...well, you know. Mom went into their bedroom, woke Grandpa, told him she was worried and asked about her mom. Grandpa told her, "Let's go into the kitchen. I'll make us some coffee." They sat in the kitchen with their coffee (Grandpa made very strong black coffee) and Grandpa assured Mom that everything went fine. "Mom's okay." So with that, Mom stood and reversed the process. Went down my grandparents hall, returned to California. The next day, Grandpa called. He told Mom what she already knew. Then, there was a fairly long pause. Grandpa, a smart, rational man, not given to things he could not hold in his hand, could not see--this quiet man told my mom, "You know, last night I had the strangest dream. I dreamed you came into our room and said you were worried about your mom. We went into the kitchen and I made coffee. We talked, and I told you Mom would be okay. Then you left. And this morning when I woke up, I smelled coffee. Oh! And you had on the ugliest red bathrobe!"
About a week after Mom died, I woke up and smelled coffee. It smelled richer than coffee usually smells. Deeper, more real. I got up and stepped into the kitchen, and naturally, the pot was empty and cold, that wonderful aroma quickly fading. I stood and smiled.
"That love is all there is, is all we know of love." --Emily Dickinson.
"Love is the central flame of the Universe. Nay, the very fire itself." --Ernest Holmes.
"Loving thoughts are the world's only reality." --A Course In Miracles.
"The thread which ties us all together is love." --We Who Dream.
Tags: Norman Rockwell, love, family, peace, Emily Dickinson, Ernest Holmes, A Course In Miracles, We Who Dream (all tags) :: Add/Edit Tags to this Diary
by wewhodream [Subscribe] [Edit Diary]
Sun Feb 01, 2009 at 06:36:35 AM MST
...Two or three years ago. I don't remember exactly. I don't believe in death. Or time, for that matter.
I see tons of differing beliefs or lack thereof here on our site. [Originally posted on Daily Kos.] I see fear and anger and sorrow and memorials. I believe all are needed. We need all of us so we can wake up and realize we never left Home.
The thing is, I don't write this, or anything else because I want you to believe what I believe. How boring would that be? We all believe what we believe, and I know there are those here who would appreciate my writing this diary this early Sunday morning.
* wewhodream's diary :: ::
*
We would go spoonin', Mom and I. When I was a very young boy (in our terms of time), we would sit on the front porch (in our terms of space), and we would hold hands and look at the moon. "It's a spoonin' moon," she would say to me, looking out at the big white full object in the dark sky. "Come on, Cowboy. Let's go spoonin'."
Mom was born in Sioux City, Iowa in 1930--something. (I'm not being irreverent--the details do not matter that much to me--.) When she was sixteen, the family moved to Denver, where she eventually met my dad...he had left college in northern California, got in his Ford and drove east. Ran out of money as he got to Denver...there only seem to be coincidences. Mom was around 21, had almost enlisted in the Navy, just like her baby brother...she had five siblings: three brothers, two sisters. The baby is the only brother left. The sisters are still here...again, in our terms...Mom and Dad married in an old church in downtown Denver. 1952, I think. Went back to California. Divorced in 1970. We came back to Denver, Mom, my sister and me.
I had weird seizures when I was around one or two. High fevers so hot I lost enamel off my teeth...that is the story, anyway. Always had this preternatural sense of things spiritual. Mom encouraged this in me, herself quite creative and artistically gifted. She painted (oil), specializing in portraits. Sometime in the early '60s, she took the Famous Artists Course (Dad had taken the Famous Writers Course). One day she received a call from a member of the Board of the Course. He told her how impressed he was with her work and so on...encouraged her to keep at it as she had real talent. That man was Norman Rockwell.
It is the love, you see. That's what matters. It turns out the only thing real in the world we see is love. And the weird thing is, down deep inside, we all know it.
Mom was interested in things non-physical: Reincarnation, out-of-body travel, that sort of thing. None of that ever was strange to me, but wholly natural. Certainly not super-natural. It doesn't matter. It's the love. I heard an interview some years ago. A famous actress whose name escapes me, told a story about how she was at the bedside of a dear friend dying of AIDS. He would go in and out of consciousness. Each time he was "out", he would stay a little longer, then wake up. The last time he awoke, he looked at his friend, his eyes lucid and clear. His face alight with a strange peace. "I saw it! It's all about love!" Then he made his transition.
One night, Mom "traveled" back to Denver because she had been worried about her own mom, undergoing her first cancer surgery. Mom had spoken with Grandpa earlier that evening. Grandma was at that point just being wheeled into the operating room. Mom was so worried that in the middle of the night she got up, put on her fire engine-red fuzzy bathrobe we kids had given her that Christmas, glided to the bedroom door, turned and saw her physical body still lying next to my dad. She turned and moved along our hallway. She made it to the center of the hallway, and went through an invisible wall, and found herself in my grandparents hallway in Denver. 1200 miles away, in our terms of...well, you know. Mom went into their bedroom, woke Grandpa, told him she was worried and asked about her mom. Grandpa told her, "Let's go into the kitchen. I'll make us some coffee." They sat in the kitchen with their coffee (Grandpa made very strong black coffee) and Grandpa assured Mom that everything went fine. "Mom's okay." So with that, Mom stood and reversed the process. Went down my grandparents hall, returned to California. The next day, Grandpa called. He told Mom what she already knew. Then, there was a fairly long pause. Grandpa, a smart, rational man, not given to things he could not hold in his hand, could not see--this quiet man told my mom, "You know, last night I had the strangest dream. I dreamed you came into our room and said you were worried about your mom. We went into the kitchen and I made coffee. We talked, and I told you Mom would be okay. Then you left. And this morning when I woke up, I smelled coffee. Oh! And you had on the ugliest red bathrobe!"
About a week after Mom died, I woke up and smelled coffee. It smelled richer than coffee usually smells. Deeper, more real. I got up and stepped into the kitchen, and naturally, the pot was empty and cold, that wonderful aroma quickly fading. I stood and smiled.
"That love is all there is, is all we know of love." --Emily Dickinson.
"Love is the central flame of the Universe. Nay, the very fire itself." --Ernest Holmes.
"Loving thoughts are the world's only reality." --A Course In Miracles.
"The thread which ties us all together is love." --We Who Dream.
Tags: Norman Rockwell, love, family, peace, Emily Dickinson, Ernest Holmes, A Course In Miracles, We Who Dream (all tags) :: Add/Edit Tags to this Diary
Saturday, January 17, 2009
The Dreams and Hopes of a New Morning
I am a metaphysician. I am not "Christian" (at least not in terms that may be readily apparent to the casual reader.) Thus, I may not believe what you believe, but I see great beauty in your accepting me as I am, as I respect your holding to your beliefs, whomever and wherever you are. My idea and method of prayer might seem startling to you, maybe even cocky, or arrogant, but it is neither. Please don't turn away. This post is neither a sermon nor a prayer.
Let's talk this morning, not about what we don't share, but about what we do. There still are those who think we see Barack Obama as a god, a savior. I suppose they always will think this way. I visited change.gov a few minutes ago. There is a post, written as one might expect, in ALL CAPS. This brings me to part of the reason I began this post by speaking about my spirituality. My beliefs, indeed my deep inborn understanding of things unseen, teaches me the power of mind, and that we must be careful how we react to others. By react, I mean in thought as well as in deed (both of which I believe are one in the same).
The post I saw, over on Obama's (our) site, is the usual rant. But I always think, "Would this person go knock on the Obamas' door, and say these things to Malia and Sasha?" No, they choose to slink about in darkness.
What is going through a person's mind (the term mind I herein use advisedly) as he throws gas all over a church, then lights it? Now I have a struggle, as we all do if we pay attention to our (inner) selves more. I believe there is one unlimited Mind, and that Mind is our true reality, but we are split between this small identity we have made (ego) and our true state of being, our true Nature. Now the split is an illusion, the world that results from it a dream...but the dream is of course very real to us.
The deeper part of me knows all is well. The ego-part (which is shadow, thus cannot hold anything real) isn't willing to abdicate its hold on my sight. It is that part that imagines one of the Obamas' daughters (In my image it is Malia) asking the question with which I began this post.
There was a rabbi in the first century named Hillel. He evidently had the principle of the Golden Rule firmly in mind (a version of it is taught in almost every spiritual teaching on earth.) The rabbi said this: "What is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow creature. That is the whole Law; the rest is commentary."
We are working toward something. There is a reason the economy is in shambles, and Barack Obama is the man to lead the effort to fix it, among the myriad problems we face. It will get worse before it gets better, but it will get better. Often we must, in order to clean a great mess, make an even greater mess, as I will do when I finally get around to cleaning out my garage.
I refuse to be afraid. I know how mind works, and I know that fear attracts fear, calls to the creatures lurking in the shadows. No, I am strong in my faith. I have built my church on a rock, and there it stands, and no flame can touch it. "We are one people," he declared "way back" in '04. I had no clue who Barack Obama was then. But when I heard his voice I had one of my intuitive flashes. I "knew" he would be president. I "knew" he is a great man. I "knew" he would lead us into a new (yet somehow ancient) way of seeing ourselves and one another "I am my brother's keeper! I am my sister's keeper!" Do we really not know greatness when we see it?
Barack Obama inspires my courage, lights my faith with his own. He is not my savior, he is my leader. Greatness does not mean mistake-proof. I know he learns from his mistakes. That is the key. Make a mistake, recognize the mistake, correct it, move on. This is what smart people do.
Those who would only destroy still see us as gathered around a great campfire, singing warm and fuzzy songs while the world collapses around us. But we who are inspired sing not in vain, but with the faith and strength of a billion voices joined as one. Therein lies power, not a head-in-the sand worldview. Those who would only destroy see the tears on the faces of those watching him speak in person, and they see worship. It is not worship, it is the recognition that great men and women still live. That there still are those whose character oversees their human propensity to err. That maybe there is hope after all that a country whose fragile beginnings and imperfect history still can give rise to honorable leaders; is a nation whose ideology simply and boldly determines to "not perish from the earth."; is a place where neighbors still greet one another with a "Good morning." A small gesture, but it matters, you see. This is our humanity, the connection of what is shared in a society based upon freedom.
Well, maybe this post is a prayer after all...a prayer for the shadow-dwellers, that they cannot stop our march to perfect an imperfect Union. A prayer for all who dare dream of better days and better ways. A prayer for our continued and stubborn refusal to give up on our dreams and hopes of a new morning.
[Originally posted at kossacks networking, 1/17/09. What follows is from that site...a good place to visit, to share.]
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