Heaven within me, but sometimes it’s too much. It’s a shade too light, a touch too warm. I want it as much as I fear it. But maybe that’s not true. I want it more than I fear it, and yet I insist on a slow, steady dance. I insist on drama, on pain, on judgment.
I cling to the devil I know, resisting the One that I don’t- the One I seem to have forgotten. I move slow…
Patience. Spirit is infinite patience. Spirit says:
“If you want to be like me, I will help you, knowing we are alike. If you want to be different I will wait until you change your mind.” ~ A Course in Miracles
Awareness. I am constant awareness. I pray long and deep to remember who I really am. Beneath the heavy cloak of this body- beyond the silly dreams I made, to see the littleness of it all and to laugh. To love even when I feel like crying. To embrace even when I feel like shutting down.
I dance slowly…
Last night I was upset. I felt attacked. The story I told myself was of my innocence…a hapless target of unfair and unkind words. I pictured myself in a corner- light haired, blue-eyed and naïve. My first instinct was: “Who am I gonna tell? Who will reinforce my sad story? Who will comfort me against the Big Bad Wolf?”
I could not think of a single person.
It was the strangest thing. I always have *someone* to complain to- someone to hear my tale of woe. But last night, there was no one. A voice within said: “Pray….”
I hesitated. This would mean no victim story. This would mean a surrender of the “facts” in exchange for Love, peace and understanding. This would mean giving up being ‘right’. And I know this sounds ridiculous, but we all do this all the goddamn time. We mistake peace for feeling right. One is fleeting while the other is perfect, constant flow.
Pushing through the resistance, I met the part of my mind that remembered. I joined with Spirit and gave the whole heavy load away. I relinquished it all: the opinions, the judgments, the whole sorry business. The tightness in my chest eased. I unclenched my jaw. My thoughts slowed and my heart lightened.
Grievances. Another one bites the dust.
In this slow dance of forgiveness, I am a wallflower no more. I am exactly where I am supposed to be: loved, held, never alone.