Reflecting On What Miracle Thinking Is
I Hear Voices
Like A Fish Out Of Water
Feeling like a turtle who lost it’s protective shell somehow, I wandered into a new century and everything was different. Suddenly it was ok to feel this vulnerable, this transparent if only my mouth would quit moving so much. If only I could stop telling the truth, which after all, was my truth and personal, and there was a feeling I needed to protect myself from being too outspoken.
Being transparent meant people could see right through you. I wasn’t sure I liked that but the public eye was everywhere and looking at everyone, not just me.
I found a few friends who could see through me and yet they accepted me anyway and tried to give me a thicker skin and I was grateful for the attention. I would need to grow some scar tissue to get through life. People need people so they don’t think too much about being a fish out of water, or a turtle without a shell, or homeless while walking home, or even sick without a cure.
It could be a bitching world; a knock-your-hat-off world. It could be a cruel and cold world, like a predator world. They all said everything eats something else around here. That’s just the way it is, and get used to it. I never believed them for a minute, until I saw it for myself, then I believed them.
There were even predator aliens. They could come in your room and watch you making love, then suck up to the couple and drain off their energy. Is this what is meant by “shit happens” here?
I don’t know but if that happened to me I’d never make love again, unless I knew a way to protect myself from such an experience. I don’t think it was commonplace, but then it wouldn’t be an experience most of us would talk about anyway. Too incredible to believe; if it happened, the inclination is to disbelieve the incredible, so we can continue with our habitual patterns of thought and action. Life can be only like a habit, a routine. We want to make it an adventure instead.
Our Temporary Home
Good Versus Bad Aliens
Then there was the good aliens. They dismantled our bombs and implements of destruction. They were our future selves and they knew how easy it was to destroy a planet. The bad aliens were not our future selves; they were just like vampires trying to stay alive by using other people’s energy. They would have to get off this penal planet one day, they could come over to the Light but it was a choice they’d have to make on their own. They had blown up their own planet and a certain number was planted amongst us for whatever reason I don’t know. It was a planet where anything could happen you could think of, where heroes could be born and heroes could be killed before they arrived at the hero part of life. We even made movies about the ideas I’m reporting on. We really need some new kind of movies now. In my small way, I’m calling for new movies.
I remember Bob Dylan telling me in a tune, I could become just another accident statistic here. Suddenly I knew I wanted to avoid becoming a statistic at all cost. I wasn’t sure how to not become this statistic so went within as much as I could to study the 3 parts of the mind, the seeker, the finder and the observer. The observer wraps up neatly what the seeker and finder have done and gives some direction to life.
I read a lot, but not the traditional literature, like Shakespeare. I was not well versed in traditional great works of literature or music. I scoffed at what we called longhair music. I drifted towards the sound of the human vocalization, gathering appreciation for other music only slowly over the years.
The books I read had to do with channeling, it was about what happened after you left this planet, after you died I was interested in because I always had a feeling that I was here only in a temporary sense. I was not into the study of myth, but I could see we were programmed here; by the illusion that this was our home and when you died you were just dead and there was nothing more.
Expect A Miracle
I felt I was eternal but existing in the collective illusion nonetheless. I wasn’t a realist exactly because it was hard to tell an illusion from reality. I could not remember what I’d been in past lives until I was past 50 yrs. I just knew there was a whole lot more to life than what was seen on the surface of things. It was just a feeling but sometimes feelings are correct. I felt there was something sacred about this feeling, about life, but it was the seeker part of me that would start up the finder action.
Long before I came across A Course In Miracles (ACIM) I’d been told to seek a miracle. I’d heard a wee, small voice tell me to do that. I was already in my late 20’s by then. I’d pinned a note up on my bulletin board to remind me to seek a miracle. Every time I glanced at the note, I got a tiny shiver of confirmation that I would see miracles one day.
I’d gotten ill somewhere in my 40’s. I picked up ACIM and truth hit me in the face that this world was not my home. All this time I’d been thinking I was in jail here and was living out the penalty. ACIM changed my outlook and I healed myself just by reading what it said. ACIM gave me choices about what to think about this world, if I could face the truth, that I'd been making shit up all along. I’d had a personal experience with Jesus. This Jesus person turned out to be a real person, at least to me. Or else whatever master was speaking to me in my head had to be real close to Jesus, perhaps his brother. This master was way out there and I felt like wherever he came from, I did too. I preferred to think it really was Jesus talking to me, but in the end, it didn't really matter who wrote the book, it was the message that was screaming in my soul, relaxing the kinks of despair that built up over the years. I knew one thing Helen Schucman whose hand Jesus had written through to produce ACIM could never have written this prose-like masterpiece by herself.
No doubt this common psychologist that Helen was, was going to come under fire and I would try my best to protect her name. Just as I would have tried to help Jesus when the dark forces came to put him on the cross. There had to be many people wanting to help Jesus escape. I’m not so sure that he didn’t escape. I’m not so sure I believe what everyone else believes. I only believe in miracles because I was told to expect a miracle.
I never believed in dark forces as real. Then understood dark forces were just an absence of the Light. Anything could happen if you didn’t let the Light in. We had to be miracle minded, we had to prepare for a miracle by turning on the Lights. It would take a long time, but really, we would see how short our life spans were, once we existed back in eternity. We would all say, whew, I made it! I made it through hell! Wow, aren’t we so creative! And the world would be healed and all darkness would fade as the Light would displace it.
There is something sacred in this world after all. It is us. We have arrived and we are here to stay our ground and need not fear aliens or this changing world, as it’s changing for the better. We are the miracle workers. If you don’t believe in miracles it’s hard to find them. We’re starting to believe, and then when we look in that direction we start to open up to the Light, to the truth. The world starts to look like a holy place and we start to be grateful for the chance to be here, to watch it all happening. And all you have to do is expect a miracle.
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