Tag: LOVE

JEDI MIND TRICK

by Maasaisis

I’m continuing to explore the idea that life is an interpretation of my thoughts and feelings—experience springs from choice. Choosing peace requires self-awareness and radical responsibility. Though I’m taking baby steps with plenty of do-overs, I’m encouraged by discoveries that make my heart leap.

The root cause of my experience boils down to mindset. I remind myself that my experience is shaped by what I choose to focus on and the meaning I assign to it. Do I choose survival or invulnerability—fear or Love? This choice ripples through my perception and behavior. My mind decides between two realities: what is divine and impenetrable, or what is mind-made chaos. The latter, always shifting and crashing, reveals that I’m making it up.

I want to invest in what can’t be changed or lost—what always has been and always will be. It’s easy to focus on problems, especially when they manifest in the body. Disease is loud and demanding, using pain and dysfunction to dominate our experience through fear and survival. Yet, beneath this turbulence lies the quiet presence of salvation, always available if we have the insight to look deeper.

My eyes are like film projectors, playing the movie of my mind and keeping the focus on me. As long as that focus remains, it traps me in a closed loop of my own making. Initially, the thought of taking responsibility for what I don’t want made me angry and defensive. It’s easier to blame a raw deal or believe I was dealt a bad hand, but these are just excuses for the meanings I’ve assigned. Like a magnifying mirror that turns a tiny hair on a mole into a porcupine quill, our minds amplify what’s unwanted, making it seem impossible to remove. The only solution is to decide it’s not there.

I’m not suggesting I should retreat into denial or ignore my body’s needs. If my life reflects where I invest my attention, perhaps I should focus on what can’t be taken away from me. Everything happens in my mind. Even when my body signals pain, discomfort, and dysfunction, it’s my mind that pushes me into exasperation. I can choose to flip the mirror and see the whole picture. I can decide to give and receive what is impenetrable.

What if death is merely an illusion of the mind that believes in endings? The mortal predicament often causes scrambling and suffering. Investing everything in this body, destined to fail, is precarious.

A Course in Miracles teaches that Love created us to be like Itself. Love is the only thing that cannot be threatened or changed; its purity is unwavering. Our misery can be compared to a nightmare: we feel alone and scared until we wake up and realize it was just a dream. Can we apply the same perspective to our waking nightmares? Even within the human dichotomy, what if we could choose to awaken and understand that we are held in the immutable truth of our indestructible nature?

What if the way out of the fog that brings us together in our miseries is to lift each other up by holding each other in the highest regard? If we are truly One, healing through right relationship feels more genuine than healing ourselves in isolation. It seems more attainable to project love outward and trust that it will rebound back to us, breaking down the barriers we’ve created to love ourselves. I feel this is the next big step in understanding healing. I’ve been so focused on my own healing and feeling isolated, but now, thanks to A Course in Miracles, I’m realizing it’s not just about me. It’s about how I see myself in relation to others and how I perceive them.

If peace is our inherent right and love is our essence, then every genuine act of love—whether in thought or action—brings us closer to uncovering what we already are, hidden behind the fog of our own making. It often feels easier to see others in their perfect wholeness than to see myself that way. By focusing less on myself and holding others in absolute love, free from judgment, I feel like I’m discovering a crucial piece of the puzzle. It seems like a valuable and worthwhile practice to pursue.

I liken this viewpoint to the way of the Jedi. George Lucas, the creator of Star Wars, may have drawn inspiration from a similar place in the galaxy, as the Jedi Code emphasizes focusing on peace and being aware of rash actions driven by dark thoughts. A skilled Jedi becomes aware of triggers that lead to conflict and turmoil and uses the Force, which connects us all, to create a peaceful mindset. This reinforces the way of the Jedi.

Perhaps the Force itself is love. When we look away from it, we create things that break, hurt, and end. The dark force uses every tactic to misdirect us from what cannot be destroyed, making us believe that life happens to us and forces us into an endless battle.

It’s like a Jedi mind trick to use love as the tether to correct the belief in all things that threaten us. We feel threatened because we feel scared, alone, and vulnerable. I find incredible relief in the idea that I can never truly be alone. Every opportunity to connect with another, with my heart open, is not only a chance to heal myself but also to contribute to the healing of others and the world we create.

SPECIALNESS

by Maasaisis

Sometimes, clarity shines through like a beam of sunlight breaking through a dense forest—direct, bright, and penetrating. As I walk, spinning my prayer beads between my fingers, I realize that cancer is giving me an opportunity to see either through the eyes of fear or through the inner eye that reveals how I mold my reality to appease the demands of an unquenchable ego.

Beneath the many facets of fear that seek to control and wreak havoc lies a deep desire to be seen. As I learn the tactics of the ego, I am humbled by what my prayers reveal. Ego will weaponize fear to prevent me from stepping into the expansiveness of God’s perfect Creation. Attacks of belittling fertilize the ground for self-punishment and outward projection, attempting to fill the self-imposed cracks.

The need to feel important can only be rooted in the belief that we are separate from one another. Otherwise, why would we need to feel special? If we acknowledge that we are all of the Same, then we wouldn’t need to constantly be assured that we matter. When our perception of who we think we are—or who we should be—is challenged, we often respond by attacking and distorting our reality to assert how we want to be seen in the world. Is my twisted ego making me feel special because of cancer? The thought stopped me in my tracks.

Cocooned in the safety of the forest, I dared myself to be perfectly honest. Is my illness a manifestation of seeking love and acceptance? Am I coveting care and validation from others through this disease? Have I allowed myself to be defined by sickness? And the biggest question of all…did I create cancer? If so, can right mindedness reverse what was miscreated?

The discomfort and resistance of pondering these questions made it clear that even in the throes of struggle, egoic pretenses exist. The justifications that immediately followed only confirmed my realization. There are deeper layers of healing beckoning my awareness beneath the superficial symptoms. The lovelessness stemming from projections of myself, rooted in self-preservation disguised as safety, is not who I truly am. I can only pray for guidance as I align my will to bring to light what truly needs healing.

The willingness to uncover the matrix of my operating system can only come through forgiveness. It’s the pathway to avoid falling into the perpetual cycle of attacks—the default program of the human condition. In my study group for A Course In Miracles, I’ve learned to ask ‘says who?’ whenever I feel uneasy. The true Self always seeks to break through with love, inclusivity, and acknowledges the sameness in us. Letting go of needing any kind of validation from others is like a long exhale into ease.

Discomfort serves as a cue to inquire about who is truly in control. If I have the awareness to catch myself in fear, which fuel cycles of attack, competition, justification, grief, righteousness, guilt, denial, disempowerment, and inner arguments of othering, then I need to take a good look at who is running the show.

The challenge with waking up is that it’s easy to konk out and slip back into autopilot. Perhaps this is why we find ourselves here, with our humanness being our teacher or our foe. Aren’t we all running variations of the same program? One that evades fear, seeks love, yearns for uniqueness and correctness, and strives to achieve these in complex ways that often leave us feeling more isolated? Isn’t suffering rooted in our sense of feeling alone and doing whatever it takes to feel less afraid and disconnected?

What if our true nature is the opposite of all that? What if it’s just buried beneath layers of our projections, always prompting us to uncover what is already there? What if healing springs from remembering that what we truly seek is inherent within us, and everything else is perpetuated by the miscreations of our own will? What if we could just grasp the expanse of our true magnificence?

LESSON: ALL THE LAMPS OF GOD WERE LIT WITH THE SAME SPARK.

-A COURSE IN MIRACLES

Banner painting: “REVELATION”- Acrylic on canvas by Maasa

THE ROSE CIRCLE

by Maasaisis

My heart has blossomed open, leaving the core of the bloom exposed and tender to all nuances of life. Perhaps it’s the hormone medications that have fueled my emotional liberation; perhaps I no longer need to armor up. There is a clear border between life before and after cancer. My life before was a constant rush of ticking off boxes on my never-ending to-do list. I lived at full throttle speed where busyness equated to success, leading me to keep even those I love at a distance. Trauma was a distraction extinguished like a candle before it could burn.

I now look back from the perch of my unhurried way of life, where nothing more has to be acquired or achieved. My days unfold naturally, like a flower opening up to the sun. There is no forcing or pressing against it. This way of allowing life to come to me, rather than chasing it or repressing it, has been the greatest gift bestowed upon me by my greatest adversity. I am at ease with taking time, and I know when to stop and be still. I’m finding spaciousness in places I’ve missed before.

After my last ER episode, a beautiful new practice of praying the rosary came into my life to sustain me. Although I don’t adhere to any organized religion, I’ve always relied on the power of prayer and meditation to still my mind. However, lately, I’ve struggled to find solace in meditation. The many voices in my head seem to overpower the peace I seek. The sobering experience of my health deteriorating rapidly made having something tangible to hold onto more than just a metaphor.

Da encouraged me to watch Tammy Peterson’s interview, where she shared how she healed from terminal cancer through praying the rosary. Tammy’s testimony, attributing her daily prayers to curing her cancer, deeply inspired me. I retrieved an old rosary, a gift from my mama that lay dormant on my altar and searched for instructions on how to pray the rosary. While I was well-acquainted with the Lord’s Prayer, Hail Mary was less familiar to me, and the mysteries represented by the decades of the beads did not really resonate with me. I didn’t feel a connection to the wooden rosary with a bulky cross which inspired the idea to make my own.

I came across the perfect meaningful objects for the creation of my divine feminine rosary: a beautiful Guadalupe talisman from my mama, symbolizing grace, healing, and love, and a gold Scottish thistle passed down to me from my aunt. This thistle was given to her by my grandparents in 1965 when she left Scotland and immigrated to Canada. Additionally, I found a little cross from a beaded bracelet that my daughter begged me to buy but no longer satisfied her fashionable taste. It was important to me that the divine masculine was also represented in my special rosary, so I incorporated the cross that once belonged to my daughter, bringing her into my rose circle. I chose rosewood beads for the mother beads and yellow jade for the father beads, and thus my powerful tool for prayer, carrying the essence of my family’s love and connection, came to be.

The felt sense of spinning the beads between my fingers as I pray has amplified my faith. A personal mother prayer landed into my awareness, resonating with my request for her guidance. I was gifted the Aramaic translation of the Lord’s Prayer from a beloved, which opens my heart for the Father beads. Instead of the traditional dedication to the mysteries, what resonates with me is to dedicate the first decade to my personal heartfelt prayer. The second set of ten is for prayers of gratitude. The third is dedicated to those I want to pray for, the fourth for our ancestors, and the fifth, I return home to myself, Gaia, and welcome whatever may come up.

On low-energy days, I sit and bead rosaries, finding peace in creating meaningful tools of prayer. As I make them, someone always comes to mind to gift it- to whom I know will appreciate and use it. One day, while I was praying the rosary while walking in the forest, I received the message to show others how to make them. After all, there is power in crafting your own prayer tool! For the first time in ages, I felt like this was something I could offer without depleting my energy — to offer it in an easy, authentic way to those who feel called to join the circle.

My vision came to fruition as a circle of thirteen sisters gathered in my home. After months of winter isolation due to my health crisis, this was a welcome shift of energy with loving friends. Coming together in creative ceremony with others who yearned for heartful connection was incredibly meaningful and nourishing. We all shared a common desire to pray together and be in each other’s presence. Something magical is bubbling up to the surface with this recognition, and I feel its importance deeply. In these changing times, we need the support of each other and feel the sustainment of something much bigger.

In opening our rose circle, we are now connected to all through prayer. In a time where disconnect—the ailment of separation that can only lead to disharmony—the rose circle is one way for us to heal together. This is the gift I received from praying the rosary: the gift of knowing that we can come together and be held in a circle where we are all of the same.

LESSON: WE ARE ALL OF THE SAME

THE JEWELS INSIDE

by Maasaisis

Enlightenment is each time I awaken to something that brings about a radical, positive shift in my state. I don’t believe it to be a destination, attainable only by those who possess something others may not. You don’t have to be a spiritual master to wake up to yourself. The Holy instant in which I received such an awakening sprung with the budding energy of spring.

I’ve had this insight before; the remembrance emerged from the familiarity that resurfaced. It broke free from the heavy layers of symptoms and survival that had kept me from retrieving it. When I landed back in my ‘aha’ moment, it became abundantly clear that I had become a victim of my circumstance and operating from a place of brokenness. I was living life intently focused on the need to be fixed.

The cascading effect of my physical deterioration over the last five months tested every aspect of my being. There were times when I felt the absence of the only thing that gave me a semblance of assurance: my faith. When my connection to the Divine felt lost, I retreated into shutdown mode and escaped into drugged sleep. I latched my mindset on surrender but in doing so, I allowed myself to primarily be a cancer patient.

The grace of all that is good always finds its way back to me. This is how I continue to have faith. In one auspicious moment, I clearly understood that, even with many insights along the way, the frequency of how I was operating stemmed from a place of sickness. My language had morphed into a lingo of struggle, amplified by my symptoms. But how can I hope to heal if I continue to put out signals of being diseased? If my cells need to remember what they were before they became mutants, I must remind them with my imagination and infuse it with feeling. Energy flows where attention goes.

The challenge lies in catching my response to strong physical sensations that screams disease. If I can just acknowledge it’s presence without suppressing it or labelling it, it creates an opening to transmute it into something that I can let go of. In that sense, surrendering truly becomes a tool for living rather than merely surviving.

My legs are pumping the pedals on a smooth incline that weaves through the dense forest. I can smell the earthy, damp essence emanating from the tribe of trees. My heart pumps vital blood for the optimal functioning of my athletic body. My muscles are solid and strong, every cell nourished and exuding vitality. Sunlight streams in between the trees, revealing the emerald green of moss blanketing rocks and the base of tree trunks. My bike is an extension of me, responding to my will with speed and clean lines. Gratitude overwhelms me as I take in the beauty around me. I can hear Al riding right behind me. He is always there in moments that count the most. At the summit, overlooking Gaia’s magnificent vista, we respond to awe with presence.

I continue to revisit this visualization as often as possible, engaging my felt senses. Even though I’m not there yet, it’s important to acknowledge how far I’ve come rather than focusing on the distance left to travel. There has been significant improvement compared to how I was between December and February, when getting out of bed was a monumental task. Now, I can take long walks without crashing after, go grocery shopping and cook dinner for my family.

The evidence of my healing is showing up in unexpected places. I’m recognizing that this stripped-down version of me has created a much wider space in my heart to feel. Allowing others to see me as I am has enabled me to soften into their presence. I’m able to receive love which has become my medicine.

So many have prayed for me and held me through the most vulnerable of times. Living in a small community where I’ve resided for the last two decades, the kind folks of this town remind me that I’m loved and that I matter. I’ve fallen into the arms of people whom I barely know, in tears when asked how I’m doing, only to be held in the loving way of a long-time beloved. My heart swells with every meaningful gesture from another. To forgive myself when I forget and lean into remembering. I didn’t have the ability to be this way before this wisdom disease came to mentor me. My outer shell was too hard to crack for the jewels to be found inside.

LESSON: ENERGY FLOWS WHERE ATTENTION GOES

TUG OF WAR

by Maasaisis

I thought that if I played by this new set of rules, I would be able to maintain at least some semblance of my old life. If I took a long enough nap late in the day, I should be able to gather enough energy to be in fine form for the flamenco show. That’s what I thought. What was supposed to be a short nap turned into over an hour. I peeled my eyes open, groggy and heavy. The voice inside said, ‘Get up, shake it off!’ so I put on my flamenco shoes and dragged myself into position to practice our set.

I noticed right away that the music was coming in muffled through my right ear, the one that’s been plugged periodically for the last couple of months. Nausea set in after my first spin, and every stamp of my nailed shoes reverberated through my bones. This distraction threw me offbeat, and suddenly, I had no idea what the next move was. I panicked and tried again, but my body lagged behind. I just couldn’t keep up.

The doctor said these medications would make me feel old, physically and mentally. The thought of getting ready for the show overwhelmed me. There are many voices arguing in my head: ‘Do it again, practice!’; ‘Just lay down, you’ll be okay’; ‘Forget it, who are you kidding?’; ‘Tough it out! Stop being dramatic!’ I fall into bed, sobbing uncontrollably because I know it’s not going to happen.

There is a tug of war between the part of me that is fighting for what I feel should be mine and having to let it go because I have to. The new set of rules is that it changes moment by moment. The lesson? There is no wisdom to be found in the midst of a messy meltdown. I only have this blank page to spew out my discontent because I need to let it out so I won’t implode. I’m angry that what I was looking forward to was snatched away from me. I’m grieving the fact that I can’t plan to look forward to something. I’m grieving the days lost in sleep.

I understand the lesson about letting go and living in the moment—an enlightening way to strive to be. I keep receiving this message repeatedly, but when the moment takes me away from what lights me up, I feel utterly defeated. Then, the guilt of admitting defeat drowns me under the wave of self-loathing. The internal conflict rages on – one side mothering the wounded child, the other seething and clinging to all that I used to be. One side yearning for a sense of control and predictability, the other acknowledging the futility of such desires on an unpredictable health journey.

People keep saying how strong, courageous, and beautiful I am. The truth is, that is how I used to see myself. That version of me is fading into something else that I can’t find. I don’t recognize what I’m morphing into, and it’s scary. I’m at that place that happens in every painting process—the place where I have no idea how to move forward, where everything doesn’t look right, and I don’t know how to fix it. I feel vulnerable and exposed in this stuck place. The only thing that keeps me going is trusting the process. If I just keep showing up in front of the canvas, something eventually shifts, and my whole perspective on the painting changes, allowing me to break the spell — to find beauty and meaning where it wasn’t before.

I know I will come up for air with a fresh look around. If not now, it will come. Thank God for my angel of a husband, who envelops me in his love no matter what state I’m in. Even when I want to push him away, he holds me until I eventually melt into him. He cries with me, and in doing so, he helps me open up the floodgates so I can just let it all rip, allowing me to feel everything just as it is.

LESSON: THE RULES CHANGE MOMENT TO MOMENT

I WILL GO ON

by Maasaisis

“The purpose of our journey on this precious Earth is now to align our personalities with our souls. It is to create harmony, cooperation, sharing, and reverence for Life.
It is to grow spiritually. This is our new evolutionary pathway.

– GaryZukav author of “The Seat Of The Soul”

Pumping my pedals with power and exhilaration, I’m biking up the mountain through the temple of forested trees. I’m in my sanctuary doing what I love. My entire body swells with gratitude for being able to celebrate my health in such a tangible way. I’m keeping up with my best friend and husband while my heart pumps in rhythm to soul moving music. I’m imbued in the expansive field of a perfect experience.

Then it happens….

What if I’m really not ok? What if I don’t have much time?

This is how my ego hijacks my joy. It not only believes in the finite perceptions it has created, it also needs to sustain it for its survival. It says,” Nothing good lasts forever…”

I’m afraid because I don’t know what’s coming and I don’t want to know. I’m afraid because I want to keep this moment and feel threatened by how good it feels.

I’ve lost count of how many times I’d fallen into versions of the “what if?” drama. Today I catch myself and rather than pedalling through it, I ask Al to stop.

“There’s a bench right up ahead, let’s take a break there,” he says.

I used to withhold my struggles from my beloved, believing I was saving him from the weight of it. I stopped doing that because I learned that rich experience don’t always shine. Sometimes the density of life’s attack is what gives us the opportunity to grow. Sometimes we just need to wriggle in the mess before we can move forward.

Sitting down onto the worn down bench and sensing that I’m about to say something, he looks at me expectantly.

“I got the attack of the funk,” I say. He knows exactly what I mean and readies himself for what’s coming. He looks into me. We are deeply connected, cocooned in the quiet cathedral of trees. The sun rays are sparkling between the spaces in which they stand. It is majestically beautiful.

My outer senses are clashing against my inner conflict while I try to put together what I’m about to say.

“I’m angry because I’m afraid. I’m afraid because I don’t know how much longer I’ll be here…”

“Neither do I but we are here now babe.” he says.

He holds me in his response. The grip of fear eases off by giving it a voice and a witness for it to be heard. Mortality is such an isolating feeling- it amplifies that we are separate and alone which is not true. Mortality is the illusion of the false self that identifies itself with the body. I will exist even when my body is gone. I will go on.

LESSON: I AM NOT MY BODY.

“Breath of Creation”- Acrylic on canvas by Maasa. http://www.maasa.ca

The Breath Of Creation

Come home Beloved to what is real so
You may know who You are.
Open the portal of your inner eye,
Be reconciled with your infinite nature.

The finite realm of Your outer world,
Has shrouded the ever expanding Universe within You.
The world of beginnings, endings and comparisons,
Is an illusion dreamt from a mind that has forgotten.

Remember my Beloved,
You began in the heart of the Great Creator.
You and all of Creation is an extension of
That which You are made of.
What, You may ask?

Your very making is inexhaustible Love.
It is the breath of Creation that gives life to all that Is.
In your dream You have forgotten that
You were made to remember.

The deep longing You feel can not be fulfilled by external means.
As long as you see Yourself separate from what You are,
Peace is a fleeting gift in the matrix of Your own making.

Come my Beloved, awaken and see
Yourself in the eyes of Another.
You are all of the same beneath the cloak of your individuation.

Awaken and be at peace forever. 

-Inspired by the teachings of A Course In Miracles. Written by Maasa