It is, of course, the dance of solitude that pulls me. The longing of my heart wants only silence – a respite from the din of daily living, where people and things clamor for attention. In a moment of clarity, the epiphany settles upon me: it is freedom that I yearn for. Freedom from the demands on my time and energy. Freedom from stress. Freedom from shame and guilt and all forms of ego constructed emotion. Day in, day out, that is the siren that calls my name, and yet somehow, in a self-fulfilling demonstration of worthlessness, I neglect to take advantage of the moments that could be peace. Instead, I fill them with the activities of shame. What frivolity could I engage in that would make me want to hide myself? This is, too often, my life. Treading water. Wasting time on trifles.
There is, of course, nothing really wasted. It is only my value-judgment that fails to acknowledge its worth. It is only this that keeps me stuck in littleness and keeps joy at bay. The only solution rests in the recognition that I have fabricated a problem that doesn’t exist. I assigned all the value or lack thereof to each moment. What silliness made me think is made sense to discount the moment in favor of some future that does not exist? It is the illusion that “now” is not good enough. It is the illusion that the future will somehow be better. My future self is always richer, thinner, and in general more “together” than the bitch I’m dealing with in the moment. How is it possible that I still don’t know the truth of who I am? How is it that I fall back into the habit of embracing victimhood over responsibility? Who exactly did I think was in charge of deciding what I think? Why exactly do I continue to choose heartache over happiness?
My life has been a testament to my disagreement with God. I know that. I recognize that I persist in resisting reality. What is is. My failure to embrace that changes nothing beyond my enjoyment of it Today’s Course lesson says, “I am upset because I see something that is not there.” It is the reminder that I see illusion; that I assigned the all meaning that circumstances have for me, and that my failure to delight in them is a reflection mis-thought. It changes “reality” not one iota. Instead of rejoicing in the day and appreciating God, I kvetch. I wallow in dissatisfaction. Frankly, it’s an insult to God. Ego will use that recognition to further ram home the message of worthlessness if I am not careful. It is good that God is not derailed by my furloughs into illusion. No matter how messed up I get in my thinking, He waits for me with open arms of Love. This is salvation, my friends. Once I drop the idiocy, I am welcomed home in a heartbeat. In fact, the welcome never ceased; it is only my ability to notice that changes.
I love the movie The Wizard of Oz because its message is the same as A Course in Miracles – you never really left home, the power to return has always been yours, everything you ever wanted is already within you. The drama of things not going as I seem to think they should is really just a lack of appreciation for the way the pieces fit. It is refusal to accept that “God knows what God is doing,” for even the challenges are calls towards greater versions of ourselves.
“Come, know your glory,” God tells us. It is only by extending love that we can know our own magnificence.
Which means, goodbye solitude. Such activity requires other people; it means we need our brothers.
And when and if I ever excel at remembering that, I might just enjoy the show. The freedom I’ve ached for was always found in God, in trusting that all is well and that I don’t need to control any of it.
Which may be why I managed to write this is a time slot that I thought wasn’t enough. Hmmm.
Namaste, my friends, Namaste.