A revelation occurs in a miraculous instant when the constructs of the ego falters. What’s left standing is who I really am. I was given the gift of this experience after a tumultuous week of rumbling with chaos. It occurred when I traded in all of my tools for the mighty One. It occurred when I finally had the sense to ask for help.
I used to think that God hands out the hard lessons to be learned- as if I need to pass certain levels to ascend to my higher Self. But I’m beginning to recognize the similar traits of every avenue that leads to suffering. The common denominator being fear, guilt and shame- the Trio Of Destruction that often works in that consecutive order.
When I’m able to catch the whiff of that familiar pattern of attack, I notice various versions of the same story crafted from my past. They all operate under the law of limitations, devaluations, and evaluations based on external validations. All tools used by the ego to create a perception of the world that keeps me from knowing my true greatness.
My ego is the ghost writer of a convincing story who sneakily put God’s name on the cover. The light is gone only because I believe what’s written in the script -it is not a test from the Almighty. The stories I make up to affirm my place in the world is the very thing keeping me from the peace I seek.
The deal with existing in this physical dimension is that we primarily relate to our experiences through tangible means. We interpret life through the identity of the body which is limited in it’s capabilities. Who AM I if I’m not Maasa the wife, the mother, the artist, the seeker, the one that marches to the beat of her own drum? What goes on when my body does not?
In the midst of my assault, I’m terrified of my attachments to the beautiful life I’ve created. The joy of living drains out of me and I’m afraid of losing everything. In a state of survival rational thought doesn’t exist. All my training goes to the wayside and I’m utterly in a mind fuckery.
Fear penetrates, colouring my perception in hues of black and grey. I tried to keep it in…tried not to let it seep out but I couldn’t. The ones closest to me became the witness of my unravelling. While I kept telling myself that It’s ok to let them see me fall apart, a louder voice yelled at me for failing. “You should have your shit together, you should know better, you should be stronger, you should be so much wiser by now!”
Then, the tide of guilt drew me into the hot mess of shame.
Who is the one shouting at me?
How can I be my own saviour being the one who designed the structure of my imprisonment?
The revelation dawned on me to seek for help elsewhere- from the Source that created me. The One who knows the magnitude of my magnificence that can help me to remember who is real. My S.O.S was heard. My appeal for help was answered.
Maybe life is the ebb and flow of forgetting and remembering. Even in a constant state of obscurity something inherent wants to be known. That calling is what keeps me going, even when I don’t think I can hear it. I think it’s the indestructible, eternal part of me. I think it’s the Created and the Creator reconciled as One.
I am resurrected in an instant of remembrance and the suffering is forgotten. Miracles operate in ways that can not be conceived by the enslaved mind. Every-time I feel love, peace and joy it is the light of my true nature that is remembered. That is why I seek it.
So why the viscous attack from the Triad of Destruction? I yearn to know myself as the perfect creation of the Creator. I want to heal what is broken by knowing that I can’t be broken.
The hallowed desire to be whole is a major threat to the survival of the false self that I have carefully constructed all of my life. So, there she is..threatening me to save me which is the biggest clue that she is not real.
A Course In Miracles says “Nothing real can be threatened.”
My revelation revealed that I can not remember the Truth alone. I can’t know my true capabilities without the help of my Maker. The belief that I can find my own way is the trap that leads me back to where I have already been.
Maybe enlightenment doesn’t have to be permanent. Maybe enlightenment is in the fleeting moment of remembrance and the ability to forgive ourselves when we forget.
P.S My contemplations have been influenced by studying A Course In Miracles. These are my own reflections. I do not assume to know what the text means.
LESSON: ASK FOR HELP.
ART IS A VISUAL GATEWAY TO TRANSMUTE THE STORIES THAT DO NOT SERVE ME.