God is the light in which I see.
Last night I was walking my dog up the road. We live right on the edge of the village – if I turn east, within a hundred yards or so it’s as if I have left civilization all together. Yet there are houses there – some well-lit – and some of them have dogs. At one, the family let their dog out off-leash and she was very aggressive. I was scared and my dog was scared. And I got angry – at the other dog, the careless neighbors, the town without adequate canine bylaws, the world in which it is so hard to just go for a simple walk . . . By the time I had gone half a mile, my anger – and my resistance to being angry – owned all of me. The quiet woods, the crystalline stars, the bracing cold – all of it was lost in a tangle of rage and disappointment and guilt.
Yet cresting a hill a mile or so into the walk, sadness creeped in. A little voice said “you’ve handled this before – and worse. It doesn’t have to be this way.” The dog and I stopped. I studied the sky through bare trees, turned my face to the wind. I chose peace – haltingly, shyly, awkwardly. And in a few moments, peace came to me. The craziness was gone. I reminded myself that when it tried to come back, I would ask for help. It did and I did. And so the rest of walk was peaceful and happy. It was very graceful, very simple.
That moment atop the hill – that sadness at how crazy I was, and then the voice of sanity saying ‘this need not be’ – was true seeing. It was vision. That was the light in which God clarified for me what I really am and how powerful I am in Truth. Outside was total blackness save for the stars. Inside was a wreck. But deeper – and wider – was the light in which I know I am Love and that I am not alone. It is not as hard as it once was to reach that light and be lifted or illuminated – enlightened – by it.
That’s what this lesson is about – not a blinding physical light, not little tiny lights that dance around the edges of physical objects. Just the one necessary moment of clarity in a dense wash of anger and fear and guilt and whatever other form of crazy happens to work for you. And in that clarity, we hear the call to sanity, to love. We remember that love is not only possible, it is really all there is. Nothing real can be threatened.
That light did not come because I asked for it – please see that. It’s very important. I did nothing but feel crazy. I didn’t fall to my knees, didn’t talk to Jesus, didn’t remember A Course in Miracles. Nothing. One moment I was hurting, the next moment I was blessed with remembering wholeness. When I remembered, I reached for it. And there it was. That’s how the Course works. See the verbs in this lesson: sinking, letting go, slipping. Releasing. You need do nothing – it will all be done for you. How simple that is and yet how hard to accept, to bring into application!
As you sit for the day’s practice, remember those verbs. Remember how little is actually required of the “you” you think you are. Just getting to the practice is enough. Trust Jesus. Trust the Holy Spirit. You are not apart from God. No matter how bad it feels, no matter how unbridgeable the distance – it’s nothing. You are home.
Thank you Sean. I started this lesson this morning and was feeling sad. I just started writing the reasons why but right now that seemed pointless, so I stopped quickly. Your reminder in the last paragraph is so helpful. Those verbs. Doing nothing. And trust. I’ll practice the exercise again now, differently. It is, after all, a practice which is required, not getting a result.
Thanks Sean, you seem very much a true seeker, yet very practical. I enjoy all of your commentary on these lessons. I understand that Helen wrote this course, and that her inner teacher was Jesus. I also believe that she really wasn’t a religious, or even spiritual, yet it seems God chose her. Would you mind commenting on that, and your understanding of how the course came about ? Thanks
Hi Phil,
Thank you for the kind words. I’m happy to share my thoughts about the course’s beginnings, but please take them with a grain of salt, or even the whole shaker.
Helen described herself as closer to atheism than anything else, but I think that was an intellectual position – not a spiritual one. The arc of her life – from Christian Science to Catholicism to studying the King James bible – was very spiritual. I think she was always asking questions and questioning the answers, but I suspect a lot of that was repressed or that she gave it another name – intellectual inquiry or something like that.
So I think that she was in relationship with God, however she defined it (or chose to look away from it), and that this was the defining relationship of her life. A Course in Miracles emerged from that relationship, and from her brilliant and highly-educated/trained mind.
It also owed a lot to the relationship between Helen and Bill Thetford, and their mutual willingness and commitment to find another way – which wasn’t mysterious or mystical necessarily but just very literally, a sincere desire to find a way to relate to one another – and to others – without a lot of static and mean-spiritedness and so forth.
So this brilliant, intensely spiritual woman (whose spirituality was probably quite subconscious) is in a platonic relationship with a brilliant, intensely spiritual man, and they are committed to finding a way to be kind and gentle and loving . . . that is where A Course in Miracles begins, that is what it flows from.
It is a lovely story but also a practical one: I think we overlook the mutual supportive nature of Helen and Bill’s relationship . . .
Thanks again for reading and for your kind words. They are much appreciated!
~ Sean