Tag: Miracles

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.

ANGELS AMONG US

by Maasaisis

Mama loves to shop. What used to annoy me now brings me joy, as I’ve learned to nurture our relationship by appreciating what lights her up. Our closeness was forged in the volatile years when my cancer dominated our lives — years that taught us both to drop our armour and revealed the gift of holding each other in our vulnerability.

I finally feel that the gap between us is nearly closed — the gap that perhaps began the day I was cut out of her belly and taken away. The gap that widened during the three long days it took to return to the familiar sound of her heartbeat.

I used to yearn for her to hold me in a way that made me feel loved — not through the gifts she showered on me, but through presence. For a long time, love felt disguised in things. But now I know better. I understand that her love was always there, potent in its truth no matter how it was given.

I was happy to be on an outing in the next town over, where we planned to have lunch and visit Canadian Tire — a store that would satiate most of her shopping needs. Knowing her particular taste for good food, I chose a Thai restaurant that I knew would meet her high standards, hoping to nourish her well before setting her free in the aisles of that giant store.

She hadn’t had an episode of her debilitating stomach issue in months — the kind of attack that would double her over in pain and cold sweat. They were frightening to witness. Every time Da and I tried to convince her to get it checked out, she recovered soon after and brushed it off. Deep down, I knew something serious was going on. But I also knew I couldn’t force her to look inside — not when I was well aware of the scanxiety that comes with medical screenings.

I convinced myself the homemade probiotic yogurt I’d been making for her had healed her. Every week, I’d buy organic half-and-half, carefully heat it to pasteurize, then combine Lactobacillus reuteri and Lactobacillus casei Shirota — probiotic strains known for supporting gut health and promoting restful sleep. I fermented the mixture for thirty-six hours in the SousVide I’d invested in to make our medicine. Because of the heavy use of antibiotics I’d taken over time to treat chronic infections from my ulcerating tumor, I’d become susceptible to colitis. I was determined to heal my gut — which I did — and I truly thought Mama’s had healed too… until she ate that spring roll.

She took two bites and gave me that unmistakable “uh-oh” look, instinctively clutching her gut. A wave of foreboding settled into my own stomach. Not here, not now, I thought. Our red curry was still on its way, but even as I tried to distract her with conversation, we both knew it wouldn’t be wise to fuel more heat into her already-agitated system. I took a few bites and asked to have it packed to go while Mama visited the washroom for the second time.

“Maybe we should just go home,” I suggested.
“No, I’m fine,” she said, slowly getting to her feet.

The best medicine was only a few blocks away, where she could tick off everything on her shopping list. Torn between my fear and my better judgment, I decided to let her lead, trusting she knew what was best for her.

She leaned heavily on the shopping cart, pausing and wincing between aisles. Breathing through her pain, she still managed to find the best deals for what she was after. I was impressed, but I still feared that if she escalated to the level I’d witnessed before, we’d be in serious trouble. I rubbed the small of her back, feeling the heat radiating through her shirt, beads of sweat collecting at her brow.

We still had to pick up my car from the detailers yet another town over, which meant we wouldn’t be home for at least a couple more hours — including the stop we had planned at our favourite discount grocery store. She was adamant we stick to the plan, even as it became clear the digestive meds from the drugstore had done absolutely nothing.

Our ride home was cloaked in her quiet endurance, punctuated by sharp breaths over the bumpy roads. Da was already deep into teaching a four-hour seminar online by the time I got her home. I still had the morphine I’d relied on to manage my acute pain for so long, and we’d used this strategy before — a small dose had taken the edge off, and she’d usually be fine by the next day. I practically had to carry her to bed. After setting her up with a heating pad, I gave her the opiate. Let’s wait and see was our family’s go-to plan, always reluctant to face the ordeal of going to emergency.

I’d just settled back at home when my phone rang — Mama on the other end, asking if she could take another pill. Without hesitation, I got back into my car and drove the short distance to her house. I could hear Da’s voice, still presenting in Japanese, coming from the basement. He couldn’t have known that his wife was upstairs, grimacing against the pain that was stealing her breath away. The moment I saw her — her hair plastered to her sweaty, pale, crumpled face — I made the decision. “I’m taking you to emergency, now,” I said, switching to Japanese so she would really hear me. She did not have the strength to argue.

I’m convinced that angels were watching over us, especially after what Mama shared with me a few days later, following her emergency open surgery. Had I not taken her in that moment, had she not been seen quickly in the ER, had I not pushed for a CT scan so adamantly, we may have lost her. She had ruptured her intestinal lining due to an infection that even a strong dose of IV antibiotics couldn’t tame. A severe case of diverticulitis had her ambulanced to a bigger hospital where a surgeon was waiting to assess her.

The connection between thought, feeling, and experience became painfully clear as I battled my fear, clinging to the lessons I’d learned throughout my own healing journey. What was supposed to be a two-hour surgery was now stretching into four. What had the surgeon found once he opened her up? How bad was it? Could she die? My belief in the worst-case scenario truly tested my faith in what cannot be taken away.

I finally got the call I’d been waiting for.
“She’s out. She’s okay,” Da said.
“I’ll be there tomorrow morning,” I replied with a huge exhale.

The surgeon had told Da she could have died without the emergency operation. He’d removed a large section of her badly perforated sigmoid colon and attached a temporary ostomy bag. A long line of bulky staples was etched down her belly where the incision had been made.

When I saw her the next day, I knew — both in what I felt and what I saw — that she had touched something otherworldly.

“There are angels everywhere, Maasa,” she said.
“What? You can see them?” I asked.
“Yes. I can’t see their faces, but they’re like flowing, transparent curtains — and there are so many of them. They’re rushing to help the nurses, helping the people here.”

Her eyes glassed over with emotion as she spoke. “One of them came to me and whispered in my ear.”

She couldn’t understand what was said, but she was completely assured that everything — no matter what — would be okay. And then, she told me, Jichan and Bachan — her parents who had long since passed — came to let her know that there is nothing to fear on the other side. That they are all there — the ones who passed.

I’ve rarely seen my mother cry, but these were tears I recognized — the same kind I’d shed when I felt closest to God during my own brush with death. Goosebumps rose on my arms; I knew she was telling the truth.
“I also saw you with the angels,” she said. “But you weren’t transparent. You walked right by my room, looking for me, and I kept calling out to you.”

I hadn’t been to that hospital until then, but she accurately described the hat I’d worn the day before. I believe prayer can override the laws of the physical world. Somehow, as I clung to faith that my prayers were being heard, I had found my way to be close to Mama.

“Then the strangest thing happened,” she continued. “I found myself hanging upside down… among smoked kippers. And I was completely at peace.”

“Kippers? Like herring?” I asked, puzzled.

I didn’t connect the dots — until Da did. His father had spent much of his life working in a kipper smokehouse in Scotland. Mama felt his presence watching over her in that very place, as if he had come to reassure her himself — confirming what she’d already been told: there is nothing to fear beyond this life.

After a week in the hospital, Mama came home. She’d lost her voice from the tube that had helped her breathe during the long hours of surgery. It feels like she still has one foot in the world where angels abide. Something has shifted in her — a quiet certainty born of what she experienced, which only deepens the ground where I’ve placed my own faith.

LESSON: “God’s angels hover near and all about. His Love surrounds you, and of this be sure; that I will never leave you comfortless.”- Complete and Annotated Edition (CE) of A Course in Miracles.

MIRACLE SHIFT

by Maasaisis

“Your CT scan shows that you’ve responded exceptionally well to treatment,” my oncologist said excitedly over the phone. “There doesn’t appear to be any tumours in either breast although, It’s hard to assess the right one due to extensive scar tissue from the ulceration. What spread into your chest wall has receded, the thickening in your upper sternum is stable, and your lymph nodes look clear.”

I was surprised by how calmly I received the wonderful news—perhaps because it simply confirmed the profound shift I’ve been feeling lately.

Three months ago, my CT scan showed disease progression from my right breast into my chest wall, in the sternum, and in my lymph nodes. The tumor in my left breast was also evident. Due to my chronic infections, I was able to forgo the chemotherapy portion, which would have depleted my immune response, and instead gave my body the chance to fight back against the infections. With stage four metastatic breast cancer, the recommended treatment was aggressive. My unique situation gave me the chance to stumble upon a miracle.

After two targeted immunotherapy treatments with minimal side effects, all four of my tumor markers dropped below the normal range for the first time in five and a half years. I requested a CT scan after my third treatment, knowing I’d likely be recommended to add chemotherapy for the following round since my infections had cleared. I needed to know if my insides reflected how I was feeling—and they did! My doctors believe that the targeted immunotherapy was solely responsible for this miraculous turn of events. I have my own belief, which I attribute to a higher order I’d placed my bet on.

“I still advise you to do chemo and take advantage of this window to clear out whatever may be left of the cancer,” my oncologist continued. I’m incredibly grateful to have been matched with an oncologist who respects my decision-making process. For now, I declined the chemo, as my body is relishing the vitality that had been absent for so long. The thought of compromising my entire system, just as it was moving towards homeostasis, felt more like a risk than a benefit. However, I’m careful not to cling, as I need to remain open to pivot when necessary.

The only “barometer” I’ve put my faith in is the level of peace I feel in the choices I make. I’m talking about the kind of peace that can’t be manufactured for safety’s sake—the kind that is all-encompassing, a ‘yes!’ that I can fall into and feel held by. That’s what I felt after I declined chemo for my next round.

I’m learning that the only power worth giving is the Power I lovingly surrender to. Time and time again, I’ve been shown that when I do this, I’m being taken care of. I know when I’m not doing this because I feel a tightening around the reality I want to control. So, when I notice, I let go again and again, praying to be shown the way. The way has at times been scary, painful, confusing, and messy- it’s only from this vantage point that I can see the meaning in all of those experiences. This is what I need to trust as I keep following the way. This is what Da calls a miracle shift.

I hadn’t disclosed to my doctors the other ‘therapies’ I believe contributed to my ‘exceptional response.’ A fringe protocol, showing great promise as a cancer cure, came onto my radar last year. I began it as a last-ditch effort to make a difference on my own before seeking help from the conventional system. However, I didn’t use it long enough to give it a fair trial. The use of repurposed drugs—existing drugs originally developed for one condition but used to treat another—was gaining momentum and showing great promise for healing even the most aggressive and untreatable cancers.

The research I’ve done has given me enough confidence to test these therapies on myself, especially since, based on what I’ve gathered, they won’t interfere with the efficacy of my treatment and are relatively harmless. I’ve also been taking Artemisinin, derived from the sweet wormwood plant, often referred to as ‘herbal chemo’ due to its potent anticancer properties. Alongside this, I’ve maintained a steady regimen of herbal tinctures, teas, vitamins, high doses of anti-inflammatory supplements, and antioxidants to neutralize free radicals.

I also take time for my daily ritual of forest bathing and prioritize having meaningful, heartful connections. I can feel the power of the prayers from those who pray for me. I’m sure all of these have contributed significantly to my current state, but what I give the most credit to has nothing to do with what I put into my body.

My day begins with aligning my will with the greater will of God. It is only from this place that I can live fully and flourish, even with this disease. I need to recalibrate throughout the day because it’s so easy to get lost in our mortal predicament. So, I keep coming back, and I keep placing my faith in what I can never fully understand but can trust. I trust because I keep finding my way.

LESSON: PEACE IS THE CONDITION OF ALL MIRACLES- ACIM

Banner painting “Of The Same” by Maasa. In the spirit of our Sameness, we celebrate what can’t be threatened or taken away. What we thought we forgot is redeemed in the remembrance that was never lost. More of my art mine may be seen @ http://www.maasa.ca

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

COMMUNING WITH SOURCE

by Maasaisis

I heard explicit instructions to do up my jacket and tighten my helmet just before the awful crunching sound. Simultaneously, I shot into the sky like a cannon ball and then I was suspended in space. There was an extended pause granted to me to receive my next instruction “Tuck your chin in and roll.” I obeyed, hit the pavement and expertly rolled until coming to a stop on the other side of the highway.

A woman was screaming from where I could not tell. The impact left me somewhere between my body and my bike. I had a clear sense of myself outside the constraints of my physical form. If I’m not in my body, what AM I? Then again the voice, “Get off the highway now“.

I felt a sense of urgency as I inhabited my body and willed it to move. It was a busy time of day and at any moment a car could come speeding around the corner. I dragged myself to the side of the road and collapsed in a heap. The crash happened right in front of my parents’ house which was perched next to the highway. My mom was next to me instantly and screaming hysterically.

What happened?... Where did that voice come from?

A man shouted, “Someone call an ambulance!” I rolled my head toward the voice and saw the back wheel of my motorbike wedged beneath the hood of a car and my seat torqued up vertically. That’s how I was catapulted into spontaneous flight and that’s how I communed with Source.

I never did find out what kind of structural damage resulted from that accident. I refused the ambulance ride and sought solace in my little cabin by the lake instead. Instinctively I knew that I would manage the damage thanks to the mystery voice coaching me through that epic crash landing.

I’ve had many logically unexplainable events that have cemented my faith in God, the Divine, Universal Intelligence, Energy, Spirit, Source whatever you may want to call it. Those experiences literally blew my limited mind into the vast expanse that created it. Knowing that I’m connected to something sacred and omnipotent nudges me to move with life rather than against it.

There is a life force- I’ve seen it with my own eyes high as a kite on LSD. I even have a witness who saw it with me! We were looking at a tree awestruck by the brilliance of multitudes of colors travelling from the earth and through the tree, beyond its framework and scattering into infinite space. This flow was ever abundant, replenishing, circulating, interacting and responding to everything- responding to us witnessing it.

There must be a cause behind that flow… How does a blade of grass that can easily be ripped out of the earth break through concrete? What gives it its gusto to fulfill its’ complete expression no matter what it’s pressing up against? There must be something supremely powerful that’s supporting its becoming. Like the blade of grass we too must have that support to bust through the hard stuff. Maybe we just need to trust that its there to activate it.

I don’t think we can deny that there was definitely a beginning to existence. There had to be an almighty cause fused with creative genius to make manifest everything. If something is created, wouldn’t there be intelligence with an imagination to form it into being? What if we are all wired to commune with this intelligence because we are the byproduct of that same creation process?…

Maybe the common denominator for everything is like a radio frequency. When we are tuned into it we can live beyond the limitations of the mind. We can express closer to our true nature which broadens our playing field exponentially. But, it’s important to know that it is a co-creation process because we can’t do it alone.

These are the kind of thoughts I’ve been having as of late. Like where did the unwavering ability to accept cancer as a quest of self development come from? How did I know I was going to be ok? That’s the glory and anomaly of having faith. It gives you the superpower to trust what the mind can not and that’s where I think help comes from. Mind tries to make sense of everything but what happens when it can’t? I think it short circuits and creates static in our radio frequency. The noise takes over and we feel lost until we find ways to dial ourselves back in. I think getting cancer was just like being catapulted into the sky. My mind didn’t know what hit it and got knocked aside while the master system took over the reins.

Quantum physics explains the manifest world as various frequencies of energy. Quarks are the smallest particles of matter and even the space between them is made of energy. What they discovered is that how we think, feel and believe has a direct effect on how energy behaves.

Since energy can’t be destroyed what ignited all of creation is still in effect. It’s always moving, changing and creating. It’s constantly flowing through us and responding to how we are being- just like what I witnessed with the tree. When we pay attention to it we commune with it. That relationship shapes the life we are living. One way to steward the co-creation is with prayer.

The bike accident left me with chronic back pain which distanced the”voice” that spared my life. My back went out regularly, causing lengthy bouts of excruciating pain. During one of the worst episodes, Da handed me the book “Sermon On the Mount” by Emmet Fox and said, ” You’ve tried everything else, start praying.” Fox wrote, “The great law of the universe is just this- that what you think in your mind you will produce in your experience.” The book decoded Christ’s message in a way that dissolved my resistance and judgement towards Christianity. It humbled me into prayer. I spoke the Lord’s Prayer with reverence while contemplating the true meaning of each of the 7 clauses.

This is Fox’s explanation of the Lord’s Prayer: “The Great Prayer is a compact formula for the development of the soul. It is designed with the utmost care for the specific purpose; so that those who use it regularly, with understanding, will experience a real change of soul.“ Every word of every line was chosen with the purest of intentions to dial us in. The prayer is all encompassing and covers everything. I spoke the words as true. I focused on prayer for 2 days and the pain vanished for good.

LESSON: “SPACE IS NOT EMPTY, IT IS FULL…THE UNIVERSE IS NOT SEPARATE FROM THE COSMIC SEA OF ENERGY”-DAVID BOHM

The crash that instilled my faith.