Yesterday, a multitude of things began worrying me.
"The things that make us anxious are entirely blessings."
Yesterday, a multitude of things began worrying me. My wife had cooked a soup which burned somewhat, then expanded it into a meatless meatloaf — would it all taste charred? My knee was hurting for days — would it take surgery? An old friend hadn't responded to an extended invitation. What disasters would the world news report tonight? I was in charge of a community event tonight, honoring a woman who was losing her memory — would she and the whole assembly wind up embarrassed and upset? Would I find a worthy topic for my radio program the next morning? And overshadowing all of this, I felt light years away from meditative contact.
Then five minutes before the news, I stopped, and the Place of Peace effortlessly opened up. So substantially evident that "This is a spiritual universe."
Things we're anxious about are entirely blessings. What was there even to have worried about? Immediately that knee pain was gone. On the news, a terrorist bombing averted. Then my old friend, having forgotten my own attempt to see him, called on his own with an invitation. The woman at the meeting rose charmingly to the occasion, delighting everyone.
This all provided the basis for my program this morning. The "meatloaf" brunch with home fries and our homemade cole slaw was the most delicious ever — health food with greasy spoon nostalgia.
When we turn away from the seeming power of the "outer" picture and into our actual inviolability, then the gates of our own awareness swing wide and we find heaven on earth. This level of spiritual awareness can dawn gradually, like an inky night that lightens to gray long before the sun scrolls up on the mountain ridge. Or sometimes it strikes like sheets of lightning.
We make every careful preparation in our activities out of loving consideration for people, yet we don't depend on a material sense of these actions. Humanly, we can't grasp the big picture. Relying on God within is the path. Everyone is really progressing on the beat. There is no resistance to our ongoing. There's not a good way or bad way, there's just this way or another way. While we don't always get what we want, it's not about changing appearances, but rather we're learning to trust, to let the One Consciousness lead us forth by a road we've never walked before.
Such desirelessness can be incompletely understood. We don't just embrace an attack upon us. Rather, without struggle, we turn within to sense the living presence of Divine Reality, the Great Peace where no power can be brought against us, where we actually already have it all. Great Peace give I unto me, not as the world giveth.
Then as an added thing, if the picture clears, it's a learning device, for it's a metaphor overlying the process in which we are swimming. We undergo push and pull, attraction and repulsion; as the tide of our awareness goes out, all the rocks stick up. The whole world is a mesh of intercommunications, responses exactly measured, within one Body.
So not rejecting or denigrating, much less opposing our shared faults, we heal them with compassion and honor. Honoring my Beloved or my enemy is honoring myself. Fully honoring my own Self encompasses the honoring of my enemy, of my Beloved.
After things are uplifted, we often write it off, we put it down to luck, or just spring right into the next scene. What if instead we "Acknowledge God in all our ways," both the impossible miracles and the modestly possible ones?
You can see that we've put four principles of Truth into quotation marks. Working for months or years on a principle that we are drawn to, meditating (even for seconds at a time) until it becomes flesh of our flesh and bone of our bone, will help lift us into our new spiritual life. For we're each born to attain spiritual awareness, indeed "That which I am seeking, I already am."
Moshe Ross is an author and resident of Ashland, see more at mosheross.wordpress.com. You are invited to submit a 700 word article on inner peace. Send to email@example.com