The gift of God pervades Creation: nothing goes without and nothing enjoys a privileged blessing. Equality and inclusiveness are the hallmarks of Heaven. We awake not to a special self but to the end of self altogether.
This makes no sense in terms of the world – its bodies, its buildings, it achievements and expansion, its so-called progress, its so-called ideals. All our senses teach us that differences matter, that separation is law, and all that abounds is scarcity.
Thus, either A Course in Miracles is wrong in its view of God’s Gift and Creation, or we are wrong in its application.
How can we reach a space – which must be beyond words, must be beyond relative thought – where this statement of radical inclusivity and equality becomes the fact of how we live, rather than a good or interesting idea that we talk about from time to time?
It is my experience that insight cannot be neither predicted nor forced – much like entering the forest in search of black bears. One longs to see their black bodies tumbling shyly through the bracken and yet it happens only rarely. We can find sign of them – we can enlarge a little out openness to experience – but the actual encounter comes of an accord that is not within the range of our discretion.
It is not enough to want to awaken, nor to study awakening, nor to practice awakening. These things are not bad – on the contrary, they can be quite positive and even necessary – but they are the work of the brain, of relative thought, of intention and of personality. They are devotions to outcomes. They can take us so far and no further.
Some other energy has to enter. God has to enter. Or rather: remembrance of God’s eternal here-and-nowness has to dawn. It has to come to light. And “dawn” is a helpful image here because we do not make the sun rise – we simply present ourselves in a state of hopeful waiting and then – soft and gentle and sure – the light is there. It blesses us and all we bring to it – literally all that we bring to it – is willingness, openness, hopefulness and gratitude.
Our work then is not to force things: force, even when applied to supposedly positive ends, is always another form of resistance. It asserts that our energies and abilities are sufficient. But we want to come to that place where we know in truth that our energies and abilities are unequivocally not sufficient. Only then can we say and mean “your will, not mine, be done.”
We aspire to that condition where we can say – and be willing to mean from the very depths of our being, that mysterious refulgence – that we want only what God gives us. Why? Because one can only say that in honesty when they at last accept without any hesitation or holding back that God has already given everyone everything.
It’s no use pretending that is the fact of our life if it’s not. Better to admit that we like being bodies, that we are invested in some forms of competition, that we do prefer certain external conditions to others and so on and so forth.
When we accept our brokenness in this way, we are able to hold it more loosely. That is my experience. Being honest about our spiritual immaturity is the light the Holy Spirit needs to bring its healing to bear. This is how willingness gains the necessary foothold and our attention begins every so slowly to shift from what we have now and can get in the future to what is given to all of us – humans, bears, bluets, birch trees – all the time.
A Course in Miracles teaches us that here in the world:
The sight of Christ is all there is to see. The song of Christ is all there is to hear. The hand of Christ is all there is to hold. There is no journey but to walk with Him (T-24.V.7:7-10).
If we can take those sentences literally – and I am only slowing learning to do that myself – then we will quickly discover a grace and an insight beyond measure. It is not God’s will that we should suffer in any way. Our longing is meant to be fulfilled: the highest end to which thought can be placed is in the service of remembering that the gift of God is here, is now, is what we are in truth.