Tag: jesus

GOD’S GUARANTEE

by Maasaisis

I was searching for God in my dream last night. Where are You? I need to know that You are there. I need to know that I’ve invested in what is real. I need to know that Your promise is the truth. I need to experience it in a tangible way — through my felt senses, here and now.

And then, in an instant, He answered my call.

From the room of my dreamscape, I was lifted and suspended in the open space of my mind — my back to what I’d left behind, my heart open to the light that filled the sky. A surge of ecstatic love rippled through every cell of my being until I became it. God’s love filled all the cracks of fear and doubt within me. The joy I felt broke the lineage of time and folded into itself to always. The jubilation of receiving proof that I had placed my trust in Truth was the only answer I ever wanted.

I can still feel the realness of that dream — how my prayer was answered in a way so certain and strong that it carried into waking life. Its presence now is a guiding light through the trials we are to navigate. Our collective ailment of fear is like a house of mirrors, reflecting our individual plights in distorted ways — each of us wrestling with different shapes of the same illusion. Fear convinces us we are alone, fending for ourselves, while love reminds us that we belong to a unified force far greater than anything we face on our own.

What makes us feel so alone? It can only come from believing we are separate from each other. A Course in Miracles teaches that we were born from perfect love, created with limitless potential. Yet somewhere along the way, the idea of a separate self arose — what was One seemed to become many — a choice made through our own free will.

Making the choice to separate from the love that held us all is where our initial sense of guilt took root. Fear then becomes the fuel that keeps the illusion of separation alive. The Course helps me see that an all-loving God didn’t create suffering — we did, through the limitations we place upon ourselves, and by guarding the idea of the self we made.

It’s that time of year again — when autumn’s changing colors remind me that we’re moving into the season where darkness begins to dominate the day. It’s shedding time. The trees make it look effortless to let go and dare to be bare, but it’s not so easy for me to stand naked amid the landscape of my scurrying thoughts.

As the light gives way to darkness, so do my thoughts. My mind keeps hooking into where I was this time last year. Old stories have a way of repeating, creating more of the same — especially when a trigger appears. Yesterday gets dragged into tomorrow, skipping the beauty of today. The body follows wherever the mind gets caught. Fear travels that line and embeds itself in the tissues, plucking a string like a note on a guitar — echoing the story I thought I’d left behind. I feel the familiar tightening in my chest wall, and my breath hitches.

Unconsciously, my hand traces the smooth contour of what remains of my right breast — a stark contrast to the rough terrain of bound-up scar tissue beside it. The small leftover lumps that appeared on the PET scan lie beneath the part I got to keep. To feel them, I used to have to press my fingertips deep, but that has changed as of late. They are moving toward the surface, pronounced and making their presence known. My fingers anxiously feel them, a habit from before, which is taking root in the fertile soil of my mind. How easy it is to falter beneath the snowball effect of fear, to get lost in “what ifs” and “what to do?”

Nothing in my present state even comes close to where my mind tries to take me. Physically, I feel vital — stronger than I have in years. Yet fear, born in the past, has the power to erase all proof of truth in the now. The anxiety of having my current blessings robbed by what this could mean is a ball and chain that can easily take me down.

I anchor to God’s guarantee that I felt in my dream — that my true Self is not my body or the things that happen to it in the passing of time. I carry a small treasury of A Course in Miracles lessons within me — teachings that help me unhook fear’s grip and return to refuge. I steady my runaway thoughts with a remedy found in a lesson: I can be hurt by nothing but my thoughts. I breathe it in, examine my thoughts, and ask gently: What thought am I believing in?

At the root of them all is the fear that God would abandon me.

I have to admit — my faith is not yet whole. Somewhere in the shadows lurks a quiet terror: what if I’m wrong?

So I begin again — the slow, steady work of untying the knots in my thoughts. Finding freedom in reaffirming what I’ve learned and experienced. The evidence of receiving guidance and finding my way is held in God’s love, extended through His Sons and Daughters no matter what I am up against.

I want to affirm that my body’s sole purpose is to extend love — that life’s work is to forgive the false concepts we’ve made of ourselves and others, the ones that make us forget what we are really made of. Even when fear trickles in when I keep God at arm’s length, somehow His grace always invites me back Home, to where love lives and where I am forever safe.

RIGHT MINDEDNESS

by Maasaisis

Two steps forward, one step back—every proverbial bump on the road is a reset, a reminder to truly be grateful to be here. My purpose is just that: to find joy and fulfillment in all that I have now, in simply being alive. This was the potent reminder as I ended up in the emergency room with another gnarly staph infection.

Round two, just three months after the last, returned with confirmation from all four vials of the blood cultures: bacteria in my blood, a perfect breeding ground for sepsis. Experience truly is knowledge. It hit hard and fast; the familiar dull ache beneath my right shoulder blade and the dead weight of my arm jolted me awake in the middle of the night. Though I remembered the last time, exhaustion overwhelmed me, and I drifted back into a fitful sleep.

When I awoke, the huge red patch stamped on my breast confirmed what I already knew. I swiftly packed up and headed to the ER with a sense of urgency. Despite catching it earlier than last time, by the time I got registered, pain enveloped me, and my bones quivered from an unshakeable chill. Triage quickly recognized the urgency of my discomfort, and I was moved through the process swiftly, aided by my clear articulation of what was wrong.

One of my favorite doctors was on duty, which felt like my first miracle of the day. Given that it was round two of what felt like a Groundhog Day ordeal, I was relieved it wasn’t the same doctor as last time. That doctor’s bedside manner left me feeling more vulnerable than I already was—the one who made me feel like I was fighting a losing battle.

I was quickly put on IV antibiotics, and although I felt like I’d been hit by a bus, I knew it was only a matter of time for the peak to subside. Armed with the understanding gained from previous experiences, I simply needed to endure. That night, I burned up with a 39.8-degree fever, shivering and sweating my way through delirium. The bulk of the healing occurred that night; it was as if my body knew exactly what to do to expedite the process because it had imprinted this particular program from last time.

The irony was that even in such a volatile state, I was awed by the vital strength within me to create such an inferno, burning away the infection. It takes an incredible amount of energy to burn that hot, and I had the capacity to harness that power. I felt my mighty spirit ablaze—a reminder that the spirit invariably outweighs the body. This is why I continue to gravitate towards practices that tether me to Spirit. My fire burned all night and smouldered into the morning. I knew I was over the hump, and the scarlet stamp confirmed it by turning the tone down a couple of shades.

It’s safe to say that the infection sprung from my ulcerated tumor, serving as a doorway for bacteria to infiltrate. Being immunocompromised from targeted treatment therapy, it’s no surprise that my defenses were breached. Despite the unwelcome presence of bacteria in my bloodstream, this experience empowered me to seek ways to prevent a recurrence. I must strengthen my immune system without compromising my treatment plan. I need to find that delicate balance, the middle way, even at a cellular level.

Prior to this bump on the road, I felt a strong urge to dive back into A Course In Miracles. It took me about a year and a half to read through the text initially, and I just scratched the surface of my understanding. The universe responded quickly to the harkening of this nudge. The very next day, I received a gift from someone I barely know. My dad texted me a picture of a beautiful, brand new hardcover copy of ACM from a different publisher than the one I had read. ‘Our neighbour gave this to me to give to you,’ his text said. I was gobsmacked. My old paperback copy was battered and falling apart, so this swift response felt like a resounding ‘yes, get to it!’

The nurse in triage looked so sad and depressed. When I asked her how she was, she curtly replied, ‘I’m OK.’ I got the swift message not to engage any further. The teachings of A Course In Miracles emphasize right-mindedness in attaining liberation from the perception of reality that divides us from our indivisible nature. Forgiveness and love lead to eternal inner peace, and this can only happen through the recognition of the inherent unity of all beings. Salvation is a collective effort rooted in reciprocation.

I decided to practice and attempt to remove the obstruction in my perception that caused me to see the woman before me as broken. The Course states that healing can only happen through a correction in our perception of what we see on the outside and by removing the obstacles of separation. As she took my temperature and blood pressure, I sat and perceived her as perfect love. I peeled away the layers of her experience that brought pain to the surface to unveil her wholeness. It was a very difficult task, as I witnessed my own brokenness.

She seated me in my chair to receive my potent dose of IV antibiotics. I decided not to fill the space between us with meaningless conversation, which is what I would normally do to try and ‘fix’ the awkwardness. Instead, I continued to practice perceiving her in her innate perfection. Behind the sadness, I saw the gentle beauty in her eyes. She hooked me up, and that’s when the miracle happened. She engaged. She could have walked away and avoided me, but instead, she asked me what I did. I told her that I used to massage, but I was taking time off for healing, and that healing had transformed me into an artist.

I showed her the rosary I’d made that I was wearing and shared that I was also a painter. I thought the conversation would end there, but she asked if there was a way she could see my paintings. Surprised and delighted, I proceeded to show her a few of my paintings on my phone. She took her time looking at the images. She shared with me that she and her daughter engaged in art therapy together, finding great benefit from the experience. In turn, I explained how intentional creativity played a significant role in my healing journey. Suddenly, I was aware that we were truly in each other’s presence. Her entire demeanour shifted before my eyes. The depressed-looking woman changed into a beautiful woman with incredibly compassionate eyes.

The doctor with the questionable bedside manner was on duty when I was ordered back to the emergency room for a re-check. It was another opportunity to course-correct from our last interaction. Bracing myself for his insensitive, matter-of-fact demeanor, I was shocked to be greeted by an informative and kind professional. He took the time to explain in detail what my body was fighting and why we needed to continue treatment even though I was feeling better. With his mask off, I saw that he was completely different from how I remembered him. No longer the doom-and-gloom doctor, he even gave me a ‘whoop’ of a cheer when I told him I was feeling much better. It was like a complete warp in reality had occurred. This is what the Course calls a miracle.

May I not get entangled in fear, doubt, and my bodily experience. May I rest in the liberated state of that which I already am in right-mindedness. May I be tethered to eternal and unconditional love. May I perceive heaven here on earth. May I perceive wholeness in all. May I find refuge in Your gentle and tender embrace. May I be reminded when I forget. Amen.

LESSON: HEAVEN IS A STATE OF MIND

The Miracle Effect