In general, review periods in A Course in Miracles are opportunities to go more deeply into our practice and more effectively ground our understanding of ACIM principles. These parts of the workbook can feel tedious or extraneous, but we skim them to our detriment.
The Introduction to the second review period in the ACIM workbook is noteworthy in several respects.
First, after reviewing the material for the day, we are invited to sit quietly and listen. We give attention and await a specific directive.
There is a message waiting for you. Be confident that you will receive it. Remember that it belongs to you, and you want it.
W-pI.rII.In.3:2-4
This is enheartening, especially in its clarity and confidence. What is the message? What will you know at the end of the day’s practice that you do not know when you begin?
The promise of being met in such a personal and enlightening way is deeply motivating.
The second aspect that stands out is the insistence on taking our ACIM practice seriously, to effectively regard the review periods as “dedications to the way, the truth and the life” (W-pI.rII.In.5:1).
Refuse to be sidetracked into detours, illusions and thoughts of death. You are dedicated to salvation. Be determined each day not to leave your function unfulfilled.
W-pI.rII.In.5:2-4
Be determined each day not to leave your function unfulfilled. That is a worthwhile focus to give to our practice. It merits our attention and devotion. But just as critically, we merit an intense and open-minded study.
Finally, although it’s easy to overlook, the Introduction to this review reminds us that showing up devoted to miracle-minded thinking is more important that the “particular words” that we use to describe and explore that practice. A Course in Miracles is not an intellectual exercise, but rather an whole-hearted and open-minded application of transformational ideas in the interest of inner peace, ours and everyone else’s.
Thus, the next ten lessons present as a unique opportunity to strengthen our study and practice – and, by extension, our shared experience of healing.
In the separation, mind became “a perceiver rather than a creator” (T-3.IV.2:1). It can be helpful in our ACIM practice to look closely at this distinction.
Sit quietly for a few minutes and give attention. Here, snow falls. Blue jays jaw in the hemlocks. Images of my father playing catch with me appear. Feelings of frustration with so much weather-related suffering arise. More snow. The hayloft is cold. What’s for breakfast?
I perceive all this, yes? The sounds and shapes and colors, the memories and feelings, the ideas. I don’t create it – I perceive it. It is given. I don’t perceive its source or cause, only the ongoing effects. I can’t turn blue jays into cardinals. Can’t make snow into rainbow-colored confetti. Can’t not think of pink elephants.
(Nor, by the way, can I perceive nothing).((Common arguments pushing back on this include: what about a whisky blackout? Under anesthesia? Deep sleep? Am I not at those times perceiving “nothing?”
I think these are examples of impaired or altered perception, rather than no perception. The self remains in some embryonic degree because it reconstitutes itself, and incorporates the so-called “blank” into its being. “Can’t remember” is different than “nothing.”))
There is a lot of peace in realizing clearly both that mind perceives and how it perceives. The biggest insight is seeing how the perceiver (the self and the body) is also the perceived. We enter the loopy lovely spiral of creation.
One can understandably spend lifetimes in this space. There is a lot of happiness here. There is a lot of peace.
But A Course in Miracles suggests this space is the beginning rather than the end of healing. We have to investigate the truth of “before Abraham was, I am.” We have to go back to the beginning (e.g., T-3.VII.5:9).((If there is one! The “loopy spiral” image suggests there is no actual beginning, only arbitrary declarations that vary according to the one doing the declaring. “Beginnings” and “endings” – and even “now” – are concepts contingent on linear experiences of time. The experience is one thing (that’s just a feature of bodies, particularly human ones) but the actual existence of time is another. The course (like many nondual paths) insists that time is not real and will – when we remember what we are in truth) – just disappear. It’s illusion, not reality. “Back to the beginning” then is symbolic, but of what? This is a fun and nontrivial question!))
When we see how there is apparently only perception – and that the self, as such, is also a perception – then we can begin to give attention to “perceiving truly,” which in turn fosters love (T-3.III.1:8). This is different than merely giving attention. It evokes laws of Creation and an order in which those laws are known (rather than perceived). It removes the self as author of experience.
In other words, according to A Course in Miracles, there is something beyond perception. Or, to correct the first sentence of the preceding paragraph, there is not “only perception.”
Miracles, as A Course in Miracles uses the term, are designed to heal perception by teaching us how to only perceive truly in order to go beyond perception.
First question: What does it mean to perceive truly?
It means to accept what is perceived as given. The miracle “perceives everything as it is” (T-3.II.3:4). We don’t add to it, we don’t embellish it and we certainly don’t denigrate it.
It means not trying to make (or pretend that we have made) one part of perception truer than another (which is another way of saying, make it all the same). What is perceived is neutral; it’s the egoic self that brings evaluation and judgment into it.
It means that we don’t try to oppose perception in any way.
It means seeing – and accepting unconditionally – that we can’t oppose perception. “You cannot make untruth true” (T-3.II.6:2).
And finally, critically, it means understanding that “to perceive truth is not the same as to know it” (T-3.III.5:13).
A lot rides on that last distinction.
Right perception – true perception – is a beginning. It is a cornerstone. A Course in Miracles teaches that “right perception is necessary before God can communicate directly to His altars” (T-3.III.6:1). Right perception is adjacent to – without actually being – knowledge. It’s where we start.
Knowledge means certainty and the end of questioning (T-3.III.2:5). It is not variable (T-14.VIII.4:6). It does not induce action, because it is not related to the body or the world (T-3.III.6:8). To know is to be as God is, perfectly whole, imperturbable and peace-filled (T-13.VIII.2:3). Words do not apply and no image is fitting because knowledge is not symbolic (T-3.V.4:6-7).
Knowledge is impersonal (T-4.II.1:4). There is no self in it. There are no distinctions whatsoever in it (T-4.II.11:12).
It is tempting to claim that we have reached or attained or are in possession of knowledge. Or we make a goal of knowledge – it’s why we practice ACIM or see a therapist or go to church. We want to know God, know peace, know joy. Honestly, claims to knowledge and action purportedly undertaken on behalf of knowledge make us feel special.
But remember: specialness is always temptation. Only ego can be tempted, and the temptation always reinforces self-identification with a body. We want to be the one who “gets it,” the teacher not the student, or at least the favorite student. Our intention here is irrelevant; anything personal is always ego.
To want anything is to imply that what we are in truth is capable of lack, which is to accept sacrifice, which is to condone suffering. This is the opposite of truth! It is the opposite of the joy and peace which are our inheritance. It is important to see how our thinking functions, and to be entirely honest about its goals and effects. There is no other way to purify our thoughts and reach the ones we think with God.
The solution is to the problem of pretending we are further along spiritually than we actually are (which is just the problem of being distracted from what we are), is simply to go back and start again. Sit quietly and give attention for a few minutes. See what is given. See how you can’t oppose it. Rest in the space of non-opposition.
This leads to the second question: What is given in the space of non-opposition? That is, what is beyond perception?
I sent out a new newsletter, reflecting some thoughts on salvation that arose from rethinking Lesson 76 (which builds to what are, for me, the course’s most helpful pair of lessons, 79 and 80).
The overarching idea is that salvation is not found in the world and doesn’t apply to bodies, but is found rather in the mind which thinks it is not saved but can be. The question is always one of shifting our attention from the body towards the more abstract levels of spirit. This is not easy to do, but it can be done, and we can become better at it in time. Certainly, it is the means by which we remember our true identity and begin to live in actual peace and joy.
So far 2021 has been about looking closely at the ACIM Workbook again, which I have not been through in an applied way for many years. In dialogue with others – both in a formal study group, public comments to shared work, and 1:1 emails and conversations – I am consistently helpfully reminded of Tara Singh’s gift for enacting the fundamental insight that “the course is meant to be lived.”
That is, A Course in Miracles appears as a feature of the world which we, in our embodied form, encounter, study and practice, all with an eye towards salvation (broadly defined so as to avoid as much as possible the more litigious tendencies of doctrinal religion). We are here to learn how to be happy, and how to bring forth a world in which our brothers and sisters can be happy too. This is a variation of Peter Maurin’s (co-founder with Dorothy Day of the Catholic Worker) insight that our work was to bring forth a world in which it was easier for all of us to both be and do good.
Thus, our practice of A Course in Miracles does involve coming to a better and more sustainable understanding what we are in truth, but it unconditionally also includes an aspect of subtle activism in the service of radical love. We are called to give attention to the “signs of the times” and respond in ways that are harmonious with unconditional love. The cry for love is always going out; the way that we live reflects our response which is itself a reflection of a healed mind, which knows itself only as one.
I don’t know what this looks like in practice for you. Its formal appearance and presentation are less critical than the spirit which it reflects (or, if you prefer, which animates it). When we create in a spirit of love, we cannot help but make the world a better place, and its “betterness” becomes grounds for deepening yet further into our “upstream” explorations into mind, creation, spirit, Heaven, God . . .
. . . All of which is a long-winded way of saying that I am grateful to those of you who stay close to me in my learning. Together we build a little oasis of sanity and joy, a light which by virtue of being shared naturally brightens the self-imposed collective darkness of suffering. There is another way and we are it 🙏 ❤️ ✨
The experience of being embodied is always painful. This is not a criticism of the body; it is a statement about what we are in truth and how our confusion about our identity causes us to suffer by conflating “true self” with a body.
Critically, this suffering cannot be mitigated in a body or by a body. It has to be corrected further upstream, in the abstract and sometimes mysterious domain of thought, or consciousness, where the basic error of “what we are” occurs (it is an ongoing error, not a one-and-done error).
When I say that embodied experience is painful I obviously mean headaches, menstrual cramps, stubbed toes and cancer. But I also mean orgasms, endorphin rushes after long runs, the taste of triple chocolate fudge cake and throwing sticks for puppies by the sea.
We are not bodies. Nothing the body does is natural to us; it might be natural for a body, but it isn’t natural for us because we are not bodies.
The world you see is the delusional system of those made mad by guilt. Look carefully at this world, and you will realize that this is so. For this world is the symbol of punishment, and all the laws that seem to govern it are the laws of death. Children are born into it through pain and in pain. Their growth is attended by suffering, and they learn of sorrow and separation and death. Their minds seem to be trapped in their brain, and its powers to decline if their bodies are hurt. They seem to love, yet they desert and are deserted. They appears to lose what they love, perhaps the most insane belief of all. And their bodies wither and gasp and are laid in the ground, and are no more. Not one of them but has thought that God is cruel.
T-13.In.2:2-11
The association of self with body (which is not separate from the association of self with world, i.e., the one brings forth the other) is a painful error which cannot be corrected at the level of the symptom. You don’t move your hand to a different part of the fire in order to end the burning; you take your hand out (and then find a professional who knows what to do with burns).
So, in this sense, the healing contemplated by A Course in Miracles is all or nothing. We are either bodies or we aren’t; it’s not a question of degree.
It takes time and commitment to reach the juncture where the truth of “all or nothing” clarifies. And even then it can be hard to accept. The temptation is to redeem the body. We mostly do this intellectually. We say “I know I’m not a body” and then do yoga, go for a run, and drink kale smoothies.
And here’s the thing. We could pound whiskey for breakfast, shoot heroin for lunch and visit Fight Club at night and the error would still be the same. And so would the error’s effects.
Of course, at the level of the body kale and heroin are not not be the same. But we are not bodies. The body cannot be redeemed.
But listen: the body cannot be redeemed because it doesn’t need to be. The problem is not the body; the problem is that we think we are bodies. We think we’re in bodies. We think what happens in and to bodies happens to us.
It’s like reading Lord of the Rings and wondering whether we should hop into the story and help Frodo ascend Mount Doom. Or try and talk Sauron out of his evil ways. That’s just not how reality works.
If we are not bodies, and the body is merely a communication device (e.g., T-6.V.A.5:5), neutral in its own right (T-20.VII.4:4), then what are we?
This is a really important question! Literally every lesson of A Course in Miracles is aimed at helping us answer it. And when we do find the answer, the embodied experience stops being painful because we now hold it in right perspective.
(Hint: it stops being an “experience”).
It’s like if we’re trying to build a house and somebody gives us a hammer. Holding the head, we try to drive nails with the handle. It doesn’t work – it can’t work. But once we hold it rightly, it works fine.
Right this very moment you are like Bob Dylan’s Blonde on Blonde confusing itself for a wax disc. The wax disc is just a medium; it could as easily be a frisbee or a serving plate. The music goes on both perfect and perfectly unaffected.
Or, right this very moment you are like Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony confusing itself for the paper on which the score is written.
Both of the preceding paragraphs are not wrong but they are similes. They point towards a truth that cannot actually be contained in language (any more than you can be contained in a body). Practicing A Course in Miracles is one way to effectively get at this truth.
And what is this truth? We move towards it when we remember that we are abstract, not material. We are closer to the light in which the material appears, not materiality itself.
Every mind contains all minds, for every mind is one. Such is the truth. Yet do these thoughts make clear the meaning of creation? Do these words bring perfect clarity with them to you? What can they seem to be but empty sounds; pretty, perhaps, correct in sentiment, yet fundamentally not understood nor understandable. The mind that taught itself to think specifically can no longer grasp abstraction in the sense that it is all-encompassing.
W-pI.161.4:2-7
The body is nothing in and of itself; it merely has the function we give it. But in order to really experience the peace and joy inherent in holding this perspective of the body, we have to know what we actually are.
To say we are not bodies is a negative statement. It’s valuable because it closes down an avenue of thought that is erroneous. But what is the positive statement? “In truth, I am _____.”
How would you answer that? In terms that are true for you and not merely learned from the past – from ACIM or Nisargadatta or Tara Singh or John’s Gospel?
Our answer is literally the end of suffering – ours and everyone else’s. No other question merits our attention. And there is only one answer that will save us. “Only one answer” is not a form of pressure but of grace.
I sent out a newsletter this morning. You can sign up here if you like.
In that letter, I think aloud about the emphasis A Course in Miracles places on awakening others. The course is somewhat unusual in the nondual traditions (in which it is appropriately located) in its focus on our brothers and sisters. In ACIM, the one is the other, and vice-versa, and the project – the method, so to speak – is informed thusly.
Service, as A Course in Miracles sees it, is a surrender of the ego and its body-bound, world-bound framework, in favor of giving attention to our brothers and sisters. The form this attentiveness takes is not up to us; indeed, the surrender that precedes it means that whatever happens next in the world of form can’t be our doing. It is a profound letting go and, as such, also a profound gift.
As we sink deeper and deeper into the ineffable unspeakable essence that is our Source and Identity, that Source and Identity flows with increasing joy through us into the world. We don’t need to understand this, much less explain it. We do need to be ready and willing to give ourselves over to it.
Critically, whatever awakening is, it is not about us. This seems to be the salient insight.
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I have posted a lessons index laying out posts related to the workbook lessons. There are more posts floating around, but this index reflects those which are more care-filled and attentive. I began writing about the lessons a decade ago; my intention and insight have shifted in helpful ways since then. This year has been given to renewing my focus on the workbook, both alone and with others; I hope to update the index accordingly.
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Finally, I am grateful to everyone who reads and shares here with me. Together we are building a little oasis in the desert of illusion, one where we can all rest and be nurtured on our shared journey to the home we never left.
To say I am grateful is perhaps simplistic but it’s true. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for being with me.
The review periods in the workbook of A Course in Miracles (six in number) are essential components of the first part of the workbook. They’re also boring – we want to get on with awakening! – and one can easily be tempted to slight them. For reasons I’ll set forth, this is not a good idea.
It’s important to remember that A Course in Miracles is course. To the extent we experience it as a spiritual path or practice, its form still remains that of a class that one takes. Look at the primary material: there’s a text, a workbook full of lesson, and even a Manual for Teachers.
In other words, it’s a curriculum, not a scripture. A classroom, not a congregation. And we are learners, not worshipers.
Given that context, review periods are not optional, nor should they be approached in a casual way. They are opportunities to reinforce our learning and ensure that our mind is successfully being trained “in a systematic way to a different perception of everyone and everything in the world” (W-In.4:1).
But more than that, the review periods offer us a chance to perceive gaps in our learning and actively work to redress them.
For example, you might find in a given review period that you are focusing on a certain lesson because you enjoy it. You like its effects; it resonates. You’re good at this particular exercise; it comes naturally.
There’s nothing wrong with this, but it can be as intersting – and often more helpful – to give attention to the lessons we skim in review, the ones we don’t care about or even actively resist. All of these speak to movements of mind that remain undeveloped; ignoring them is how ego retains a foothold in our thinking.
So while I want to be happy and fluid in my practice, and give time and attention to the aspects of my practice that pass with ease and grace, I also want to be sure I am finding out and tending to those spaces where my practice limps and stumbles.
However, it is critical to avoid making the lessons overly burdensome. I don’t want to beat myself up, or become obsessed with a certain lesson or sequence of lessons. My goal is to be serious and thoughtful, but also gentle and forgiving. I want to nurture what expands and deepens my ACIM practice, and turn away from that which does not help.
The workbook is clear that we not have to believe, accept or even welcome the ideas contained in the lessons (e.g., W-In.9:1). We are even allowed to resist them (W-In.9:2)! We should approach the review periods in that spirit as well. We want to show up as committed learners, not perfect learners.
In that light, the review periods become opportunities to remember God’s perfect trust in our learning potential, and offer it yet again on behalf of the salvation of the world.
