I cannot sing praise to two masters.
I must give myself, wholeheartedly,
to one or the other,
or I shall go mad.
If you’re a regular reader of this blog, then you will have seen a pattern in my writing.
I tell a story. It’s an emotional one. Lord knows it’s chock-full of hurt and fear and anxiety. It’s how I’m making sense of my world. I’ve been knocked down by events and circumstances and I feel it right smack in my gut. So, I wonder: “Why is this happening?” The ‘why’ is a dangerous question. It begs an answer- quickly. Because this discomfort is growing and if I don’t have someone or something to blame soon, I’m going to have to feel the full extent of it. I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to sit with it. The not knowing is very, very uncomfortable and the ego is begging for resolution.
I give the logical resolution. Well, you see, so-and-so did this and then that happened and well, here we are! I gotta get it out. I gotta dole out the blame, whether it be self-imposed or otherwise. There is such a rush to finding a reason. The mental and physical payoff is huge- albeit, short-lived. And it is short-lived. I write it all out here with some sense of satisfaction, only to find the situation presents itself (in some form or another) again, and again, and again.
I offer the spiritual solution. The story is just that- a story. Everything that appears to happen in my life is for my own learning. And it’s an unlearning. When I become willing to see my life differently, I open the door to God’s plan. This shift in perception allows all the mistaken thoughts and beliefs to fall away as I remember that I am safe in God. My life is now a classroom, not a prison. This is a constant practice that I commit to. And this is always how I end my posts: willingness to see a better way.
Here is the thing that I’m noticing: I want both to be true- the victim story and the spiritual solution. I’m having trouble leaning completely on the Holy Spirit and letting go of my belief that I have been wronged. I’m frightened that I will lose something or that if I don’t blame someone else, all the blame will fall on me and I will be left alone and unloved.
But, when I do trust the Holy Spirit I am given ample evidence to the contrary. I am helped every single time. The stories I tell take a subtle compassionate turn and I settle into Love. That’s really all there is to know. Of course, it’s not that easy when the ego is involved. The ego loves story. The ego loves blame. So I’m asking the Holy Spirit for guidance on noticing the story, taking action on the story if necessary, and for the willingness to see beyond it and remember the truth: I am never alone and only Love is real.
One of my beloved A Course in Miracles teachers told me a story about Jim Morrison. She said he was playing with The Doors at a huge concert hall and he proclaimed to the audience: “You know, there are always two choices before us, friends. Love or Fear. Life or Death. Well, I’ve been straddling this fence too long. My balls hurt.”
I don’t have balls, but I am tired of sitting on this fence.
I want to wake up.
I want Love to be all I see.
I want to live.
Gently, gently- I want to live.