The first is that the true self – which is beyond the scope of all but highly metaphorical and poetic language (and even then can only be glimpsed, never bounded or defined or truly known) – is destined for Heaven/God/Atman/What-have-you and its arrival is assured because it never left and so remains forever a part of what over and over it insists on seeking. As A Course in Miracles puts it, “[s]alvation is as sure as God (T-13.XI.9:3).
Can God’s Son lose himself in dreams, when God has placed within him the glad Call to waken and be glad? He cannot separate himself from what is in him. His sleep will not withstand the Call to wake. The mission of redemption will be fulfilled . . . (T-13.XI.10:1-4)
It is helpful to remember this because it alleviates the loveless pressure of “am I getting it? Am I failing/succeeding?” We can all take a deep breath. There are no exceptions to God’s plan for salvation.
The second point to remember is that while we are surely going home, the ego is not going with us, and it knows that better than we do.
Nothing can reach spirit from the ego, and nothing reach the ego from spirit . . . Your self and God’s Self are in opposition (T-4.I.2:6, 9).
This, then, is the point of the ego’s apparently vast, cunning and complicated schemes and enterprises. It rightly intuits that when we choose to accept ourselves as wholly perfect Creations of God and Love, it will die. And – perhaps understandably – it doesn’t want to die.
So long as we engage the ego at any level, it survives. And so long as it survives we indulge the painful (and unnecessary) opposition of self and God’s Self. But the not-so-secret secret is that we don’t have to engage the ego at all because it already lost. That is the point of keeping my earlier observation in mind: the end is sure.
The ego is like a child frantically stuffing Christmas presents back into their boxes. But it’s too late. The gift is given and received. Once a bell is rung, you cannot unring it. We can give the ego all kinds of time, space and attention – and we do – but none of that undoes the critical point: God is and deep down inside we know it because we are it.
The rest – Emily Dickinson poems, writing, engaged study, chopping firewood, clearing new pasture, walking the dog, baking bread, minor chords, fields of snow glittering in moonlight – is simply chaff and ash. Play with it, don’t play with it, find something else to play with altogether . . . it doesn’t matter. The ego’s jig is up; God’s Love is all that remains.