PURGING

My ego is revolting in a ceremony of resistance and release. I feel the need to purge what must come out, yet it fights to maintain its territory of self-importance. Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve felt the escalating buildup. Yesterday, I was finally able to wail it out.

This wave began with the news of a beloved friend who released herself from her body. Her sudden departure shocked me, and it could have easily sent me spiraling into existential conflict. Yet, I was granted the grace of space, allowing me to recognize the importance of honoring her Spirit. Her light, which can never be extinguished, illuminated this understanding. It’s the very light that exists in me, though I’m still shaking as I hold onto this insight.

This isn’t spiritual bypass, where grief is avoided. Instead, it’s about facing the attachments I hold and allowing grief to show me hidden truths that can either pin me down or heal me. Grief offers a small peephole through which I can choose to look, revealing what I keep hidden—the true source of my suffering and the fears I hold.

As I held space for feeling her loss, I noticed how terrifying it is to confront the impermanence tied to our bodies. We live in a world full of endings, yet we invest so much into holding on. We compromise, manipulate, control, and arrange our external world to dull the overwhelming fear of deep loss that we’re afraid to feel. Although this struggle manifests differently for each of us, I believe the root of all our suffering is our quest for peace that already exists within our Spirit.

For some, peace seems unattainable while in the body. For others, the experience of being in the body becomes the catalyst to discover where it’s always been. Perhaps our individual paths ultimately lead to the same place—a place that is always available and within reach. Aren’t we all striving to return to our indivisible nature, to fill the gap that can only be filled by love—love that encompasses everything and always? Isn’t that what peace is: resting in a place where nothing can be taken away or need to be changed?

The more I question what occupies my mind, the more I become aware of the traps within the labyrinth of my thoughts. As I strive to surrender the meanings I have assigned to the things I cherish, my ego retaliates with ferocity, expressed in my body through pain. I am an apprentice alchemist, learning under the guidance of the Holy Spirit. I feel the stirrings of a revolution of undoing.

What can be understood intellectually must still be alchemized into knowing. This process often requires breaking down the components of what held it together so it can transform into something of value and importance. For me, this breakdown process is extremely painful—a metaphor unfolding in the slow, rotting process of a heightened crescendo, punctuating my five-year saga with my lump.

Undoing this story means waking up to a new one. It’s happening in fits and starts, with many do-overs. My ego wants to fight, and my body is the battleground where this struggle unfolds, intensifying the pain the more I seek solace in God’s peace. It rebels, demanding that I focus on the peaking discomfort that calls me into the darkness. I want to escape, but I won’t find the exit where there’s a fight.

Death and pain are the ego’s most powerful tools for convincing me that all I am is confined to my body. The moment I release this belief, I create space for what exists beyond. Perhaps that’s where we can find the truth we’re searching for. Nothing external can replace what I already possess, though the world tells us otherwise.

A Course in Miracles teaches that peace exists in removing the obstructions to love’s presence. So, I continue to do my best to redirect my attention to finding love, and I often find it easier to access this love outside myself—through the strength of love I have for others. This beautiful distraction offers respite from the attention that pain demands.

The thing about practicing anything is that nothing is permanent while we are here. The light switch flickers on and off within our mortal predicaments. In a world where our peace can be so easily disrupted, I must continue to practice. This practice will look different for each of us, but the shared ground we stand on is our deep desire for peace. I believe we will all arrive there, beyond the space of time and in a place of always.

LESSON: SEEK NOT WHAT YOU WILL SURELY LOSE. CONTENT YOURSELF IN WHAT YOU WILL SURELY KEEP, AND BE NOT RESTLESS, FOR YOU UNDERTAKE A QUIET JOURNEY TO THE PEACE OF GOD. -ACIM