I am not a body. I am free.
For I am still as God created me.
In yesterday’s lesson, we turned to the light of God in our heart. The emphasis was on intimacy and simplicity. We do not have to crawl across cut glass, we do not have to beg for mercy, we do not have to torture our minds or bodies in the name of insight. There is no lonesome valley before us; only the Edenic valley of natural and serious happiness.
In order to know this, we have to be present to the very love that is present to us in all moments as a function of Creation, which includes us. Here, “be present” is related to stillness. We sit quietly and give attention – we bring our hearts and minds to stillness – but, critically, without expectation of what will happen next, or what we are to do or not do. We simply let go of our ideas and goals – they are all projections anyway, substitutions we would use to usurp God’s role as Creator.
Let all [substitutions] go, dancing in the wind, dipping and turning till they disappear from sight, far, far outside of you. And turn you to the stately calm within, where in holy stillness dwells the living God you never left, and Who never left you. The Holy Spirit takes you gently by the hand, and retraces with you your mad journey outside yourself, leading you gently back to the truth and safety within (T-18.I.8:1-3).
For me, stillness is often an effect of gratitude. I am grateful for the time and energy to rest in God; I am grateful for a program that so helpfully teaches me how to remember what I am in truth, I am grateful that I do not become still alone but share the stillness – and the commitment to it – with you, and with all the world. And I am grateful for a Teacher who can guide me in ways that I cannot of my own accord manage.
When we are still, our mind settles. It doesn’t get caught up in every dilemma and problem. it doesn’t feel a drive to admire a sunset or a passing chickadee. It doesn’t need to solve the seemingly minor problem or the seemingly major ones, like war. Judgment subsides.
It is in that stillness that we recollect – literally regather – the light of God. We realize that everything that we experience is predicated on God’s creation. My gratitude, my love, my service, my discipline – none of it is perfect but all of it arises out of (and thus reflects back upon) the very gift of Creation. We feel creation within us and extending through us, not as a function of our private wish or personal intention but simply as a function of what we are.
There is a tremendous amount of freedom in this realization, and freedom begets creativity. We know what it means to create as God creates, and nothing else will ever hold our attention in quite the same way again. When we realize that the secret to salvation is that we are doing this to ourselves, and that stopping will bring our heart to peace and the earth to stillness, what else but undoing could possibly matter?
Truth is beyond your ability to destroy, but entirely within your ability to accept. It belongs to you because, as an extension of God, you created it with Him. It is yours because it is part of you, just as you are part of God because He created you. Nothing that is good can be lost because it comes from the Holy Spirit, the Voice for creation. Nothing that is not good was ever created, and therefore cannot be protected (T-5.IV.1:4-8).
We are not separate from the peace of God, and cannot resist forever the happiness this peace entails. Our prayer becomes the space in which we rest in stillness, patiently awaiting the revelation of love. If it happens, great. If not, then tomorrow. If it comes in a big wave, great. If it’s a trickle, also great.
We don’t judge; we simply find the cause for gratitude and then give attention to the light in the heart by which our self, all selves, and the world and the universe and the universe of universes is known. A spark can become a conflagration very quickly when we are ready to remember what we are in truth.
Today, together, let us make it so.
