Keep it simple, silly

Friday, March 31, 2006

I am the wind

Leafless limbs form pencil lines before the backdrop of the sky, buds glowing in the sun. Birds form a surround-sound symphony while preparing nests and feeding. A fly forms a shadow buzzing over the page, and E’s graceful hands lead her body in a gentle Bagua dance. Evergreen leaves rustle – sporadically nearby, a steady whoosh in the distance, and the wind that moves them brushes my face as I recall I am that wind.

I once thought I was the leaf floating in it, and I am that too, but being it means so much more. Being the wind is being the creator, a life force. It is complete invulnerability through total vulnerability. Nobody has ever been able to hold the wind, yet it has the power to define landscapes. It brushes the Earth ceaselessly, an invisible broom of incredible proportions. And yet, like the leaf, it has no control over where it would be or how. It is subject to the system that drives it, and like anything, its actions drive that same system. Nothing is independent: it can’t exist without the system; the system can’t exist without it. And so I am no more the wind than I am its system. None of this is possible without me, just as I am not possible without all of this. It is all the same.

Thursday, March 30, 2006


Motives are limiting. The big picture has no motive, so introducing a motive is an attempt to remove yourself from the big picture. This can never ultimately be successful, for nothing can be removed from the big picture, so it is inevitable the big picture will drag you back in. And what does it drag you in by? Why, the one thing trying to separate itself from the big picture: the motive. As always, the answer lies in the irony.

Wednesday, March 29, 2006

The stickiness of stuckness

There are no words today. Just a cat's plaintive miaow and a flow of voices beyond. The words do not come to this one. They are blocked behind a wall of stuckness. The stickiness of stuckness, a saturated state. My mind is molasses, hand standing blandly at attention, awaiting an attitude attack.

Tuesday, March 28, 2006

Trail blazing

Trail blazing. E and I out on a trail with the girls circling behind.


I have been given an exercise to focus on a place in my life in as much detail as possible, and what it is showing me is how rich my life has been. For three consecutive days I have focused on another part of my life – another place – and it is filling up before my eyes. Every piece of experience, however mundane or painful or difficult it seemed at the time, is combining for the ultimate collage. My life is a collage, a tapestry of events and feelings, situations and emotions that unfolds perfectly to this point. It all makes complete, total sense now: not a single moment has been wasted. Not one.

Certainly, I have had myriad ideas how my life should look, and the reality may not fit all those images. But it is not my job to decide what this picture looks like. All I do is hold the brush and watch where it goes. More to the point, I am the brush; the artist holds me.

All around me are all the brushes that comprise the whole. There is nothing anywhere that is anything other than an artist’s tool, nothing that happens that is any more than a brush stroke. And in every moment, the masterpiece gets closer to completion.

Monday, March 27, 2006

Why truth hurts

This is why truth hurts: while I would believe a lie, the truth lurks unaltered beneath the surface, and every time that surface is scratched the lie is exposed and the contradiction bites, burns the mind that would dare peel that skin back. In the past I would apply a Band-Aid to that scratch: alcohol, sex, drugs, work – any addiction would do. Today I am more inclined to peel away, for I am finding the initial pain gives way to peace, and soon shows itself as being illusory anyway. For the pain is in the contradiction, not the truth itself.

Sunday, March 26, 2006


There is a big difference between being a spectator and a player. On the sidelines there is no pain, no reward and no responsibility. On the sidelines I can see exactly the way things should go and experience the frustration of seeing it go differently. On the field I push myself to my limits and live in the knowledge that I have done my best. I can look at Katie and Eckhardt and others like them and admire them or criticize them or even idolize them, but none of this takes me any closer to their experience – the one thing I actually want. To have their experience, I need to be them. I need to lose every bit of attachment to the world I see and accept that ‘I’ don’t exist. I need to lose every bit of attachment I have to this one, to me. For I am my world, so for this world to leave me, I need to leave me; leave this vessel empty for light to shine through.

Saying goodbye is hard. It reeks of sacrifice, and yet I am losing nothing but a thought: the belief that ‘I’ exist; the idea that I am an individual, separate from all of this.

Saturday, March 25, 2006

I need to fix the problem

Last night I discovered a big underlying belief: I need to fix the problem. It doesn’t matter whether it is the computer or someone else’s life or my relationships or my very mind – I take it upon myself to fix it. This is huge. For a start, it assumes a problem exists: it is based on an assumption that I could never prove. And then I go on to make that ‘problem’ my business. It is akin to telling God how to do His job: “Look Mate, I know You’ve got a lot on Your plate, and it appears You’ve overlooked this, er, PROBLEM here,” I need to reinforce this in a suitably passive-aggressive manner. “So just leave it to me and get on with Your job.” Let me tell you this for nothing: taking on God’s business is hard, thankless, frustrating and fruitless work. Definitely not for the fainthearted. Do not try this at home, leave this kind of work to the experts – like me and God. We’ll save the day, and you can thank us later.

Well, here’s some news just in: I’m retiring. Thirty-six relentless years on the job has left me wrinkling, graying and disillusioned. It seems that even after all this training, I still can’t do His job as well as He can. And I ain’t gonna live to be an eternity, so I’m having a break. Prove to me that a problem exists, and then demonstrate how it’s my job to fix it, and I promise I’ll come out of retirement. Until then, I consider the problem solved.

Friday, March 24, 2006

Falling down

Fell down the stairs last night. Slipped on the top step and kept sliding ‘til I hit the bottom. E did the same thing less than two weeks ago. Over five years she’s lived in this house and up until two weeks ago nobody had ever fallen down the stairs. I’ve slipped on them before, but kept my footing, and I’m sure I’m not the only one. It’s funny how things happen like that.

I remember how not long before E slipped, I had slipped on a wet rock crossing a river out on a nearby trail. She told me then how her Tai Chi taught her to keep her footing. Sure enough, she lost her footing. Similarly, since she slipped it has occurred to me that she wasn’t being aware. And WEEEE! down the stairs I went. And I check the stairs this morning and can’t find a slippery spot on them: there must be no need for either of us to take the fall now.

The interesting thing was our relative responses to our falls. E cried openly and bruised in a manner sympathetic to that response. I got straight up and cleaned up my mess, deliberately, without emotion. I have a red mark on my right elbow and my left forearm has a slight ache in it. I think E’s response was more honest, more open. I learned early not to bruise, not to be hurt by blows to my body. But what else was incorporated in this learning? What I really learned was not to feel. I learned how not to cry. I learned to build a wall around me and let nothing penetrate. I learned that if I abuse myself enough, then nothing else can hurt me.

The last few years have been the great unlearning. I have truly cried for the first time in over two decades; I have been becoming kinder to this one; and, with E’s support, have been opening up to another – slower than a frightened clam – but still these rusty seals are being broken.

I still don’t bruise easily, and nor do I intend to. Bruising is no fun. And I’m glad all that bareback riding taught me to take a fall. And my Australian friends would be happy to know that the fragile glass I was carrying didn’t break – didn’t even chip – in that tumble down the stairs. It did spill, but it was only carrying water, not beer! Most of my Australian friends – much to their chagrin – know that I don’t drink so much of that anymore. Being kind to this one isn’t possible if it involves abuse.

Thursday, March 23, 2006

Miraculous offering

I offer myself to miracles today: I am an offering.

I am an offering, not a sacrifice. I am giving up nothing for everything, and there is no sacrifice in that. My true inheritance is just a thought away; just a moment to spare, to be spared.

I was thinking this morning that I haven’t been seeing as many miracles of late as I had become used to, and that’s not true. To have settled in here in this time under these circumstances is no small miracle. Sure, the children still tell me they hate me, they want me gone – from time-to-time – but the malice has dissipated, the vehemence has gone. Sure, the house gets messy, but it only takes hours, not weeks, to tidy it. Sure, the funk returns now and then, but not for long, not for the seeming months on end that I experienced when I got here. L doesn’t wake us up nightly (as she did for three months) screaming that Mom should come and sleep in her bed. The kids don’t even sleep with their Mom most nights now. E and I even share a room and the kids now sleep in the toy room, where I was relegated all those months. I have been given the opportunity to do The Work regularly with an expert. E is warming to it too, and we’re going to do an intensive together with Katie really soon. We went to the Bahamas for E’s longest-ever time away from the kids. The kids’ Dad is getting friendlier and more helpful by the day. Spring is in the air. The house project is moving forward again after lying dormant through the winter: excavator booked in, drywaller ready to start, cob expert raring to go. My father’s Dr Wheatgrass products are taking off, and there’s a good chance he’ll be coming to visit soon. E connected with a whole new branch of her family. I got a raise. All sorts of people are offering to help me with my work. I’ve written in my blog every day for over two months. People appear to be reading it. The sun is shining. Mum keeps entering fascinating new territory. My brother is halfway to a PHD. Gratitude continues to come my way. I won 32 games straight of FreeCell. Yes, miracles abound and I am so grateful for that. Why would I not want to offer them, offer myself to them?

Wednesday, March 22, 2006


The sun returns, shining through my window, beckoning me outside. The trees open their arms, the flowers blink, as small white spots dissolve into the ever-greening grass.

In the living room, E tells three girls about primordial soup and bacteria and a story scientists would tell their children too. The book she reads from tells clearly how all this became real; the book I read from tells clearly how none of it ever was. My experience tells me that this is real: if I cut myself I bleed; if a car hits the cat it dies; if I snuggle with E... And yet, much of my experience also belies this reality, shows me the things I read about: if I give I get; what I feel is what I see; time is not consistent. There are so many cracks in what we would call reality that it’s impossible to miss them if I look. Like it says, look for what is false, not what is true, for that is where the cracks appear.

And there are cracks everywhere, and when one is wide enough I plan to slip through it, if just for a moment, and take a peek at the other side. I do not desire to leave this world; I am waiting for it to leave me. I am not seeking escape; all I want is liberation. When I can handle it, I want the truth.

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

Chaos & the law of love

The snow returns for one last hurrah and all the new life shrivels in its wake. Spring may not be so colourful this year. For now it is predominately white, with scatterings of green and yellow and a splash of red. Puddles of water grow around the house where water drips off the roof in heavy drops, while from the sky a sleety rain falls steadily down. The car’s windows are icy, the snow on the ground watery.

I love the inconsistency of the weather; I love that within its pattern of spring to summer to autumn to winter, that chaos reigns supreme. I love that this can be transposed to most everything. There is chaos in every pattern, and that makes letting go so much easier. To realize that the seeming chaos of my existence is helping make a pattern perfect is a gift.

And Today I learn the law of love; that what I give my brother is my gift to me. (ACIM Lesson 344) To be entirely selfish is the most selfless act, or vice-versa, it doesn’t matter. The more I give my projection, the more it gives me: the law of love. And there I was thinking all that time that love was something you felt, like in the movies, when it is actually something I get simply by giving.

And I don’t know if any of this is true. You can’t believe everything you read, after all. But my experience tells me this is how it works: the more I give, the more I get. And still I don’t know, and hopefully I’m knowing less and less again now; for the more I learn, the less I know.

Not so long ago I believed I believed nothing, I knew I knew nothing, and that was painful. Now I am starting to find again that I don’t know what I know, have no idea what to believe, and hopefully am opening to doing so when I do. We’ll see. The process continues.

Monday, March 20, 2006

Mysterious puzzle

There is a puzzle on the floor and a mystery at my door. The unknown all around me and I would choose to stick to what I think I know. Why? There is never a dull moment in the midst of the unknown: everything is surprising, amazing – for mysteries are necessarily adventures. The ‘I know’ mind would have me limit myself to knowing it all and wallowing in the frustration of understanding nothing; the ‘I know’ mind would have me suffer; live my life in purgatory. That is not a life; that is a life sentence. Not so long ago I knew next to nothing and it was so liberating. Today I aim to walk out the door and into the mystery: watch it unfold before me, draw me in and play with me. Today I aim to choose to make no decisions by myself. This day does not belong to me.

Sunday, March 19, 2006

Don't believe this

There is nothing to believe: there is only experience. Understanding is experiential; to believe is merely another way of saying, “I don’t know.” None of us do, but those who would be ‘right’ must necessarily carry beliefs.

Saturday, March 18, 2006

Give it a rest

I let forgiveness rest upon all things. The key is in the word ‘rest’. It’s already there: leave it alone; don’t try to make something that isn’t there. Let forgiveness rest. I have been so busy trying to make things look like I think they should to see they’re already how they’re supposed to be. To let forgiveness rest is simply to see things in the light of truth: you are forgiven because it’s never been any different. Your sinlessness has always been guaranteed. You are, always have been and always will be innocent.

And sometimes when I attempt to negotiate the maze sprawled out across the floor, I lose sight of this. Sometimes, when I get stuck in the story of how I must clean it up, when I tell myself how much effort that will take, that’s when the ability to forgive is lost on me.

But it is not my job to forgive. Forgiveness rests. All I need to do is open to what has already happened. I let forgiveness rest.

Friday, March 17, 2006

Super Humanbeing at work

Day drifts into afternoon as I get my first moment to myself. In the bathroom, two girls play in the bath; somewhere north off Route 8, E gives a massage. Here in the living room I am joined by a warm fire and a scattering of objects across the floor. In this very chair are a wide selection of garments caressing my butt. Life is not so tidy today, but it is peaceful. There is much to do, and it all gets done in its own time for now, and much of that time is not now for the moment. There is nothing for me to do right now but write, so I sip my tea, ponder, and let the scribble flow.

I would like, somehow, to transpose this peaceability to work, where I still seem to have the need to achieve the impossible on a daily basis. Anything less than the impossible done and I leave a wreck, ruined by my own expectations. Where does this come from? The Super Humanbeing has not yet died; he just moved office. From the home to work, the frying pan to the fire: the need to be incredible has not yet left me.

It is strange. I even hear people telling me how impressed they are with my work, but it never sinks in, never penetrates. It’s as though accepting such an accolade would give me nothing left to work for, probably because that’s all I was working for. Once received, there is nothing left: an empty void of seeming demotivation.

But what is the truth of it? What would happen if I could just stop and listen, really soak up that appreciation? I think I would take it in, and move on with a growing awareness that whatever I do is enough; whatever I do is that much more than would have been done without me. That would be a great weight off: to understand that the only demands being made on me are in my head, to realize that my presence is appreciated just for it being there; that anything else is a bonus. It could help me see that I cannot fail: that enough is always exactly what I give – never an iota more or less. That would be such a relief.

Thursday, March 16, 2006

Rest in peace

I love today’s lesson! I let forgiveness rest upon all things, for thus forgiveness will be given me. (ACIM Lesson 342) I’ve just been sitting and letting forgiveness rest upon all the people and things I have ever condemned in some way: my entire family, all my friends, loved ones everywhere, strangers on the street, politicians, business people, the world, the universe, God, my teachers, colleagues; all of it, just letting the forgiveness flow. And with it, an incredible release that brought tears to my eyes and a newfound energy. For everything that comes to my mind, my thoughts first turn to, ‘You are forgiven,’ and often whatever I had started thinking just disappears, dissolves before me.

And then I came downstairs to light the fire and the cat had done ones and twos amongst the woodpile by the woodstove. This is after accidentally leaving her in all day yesterday, returning to expect to find that had happened, rejoicing to see it hadn’t, and letting her out to do her thing. It seems sometime between then and now she finally decided to go. I just received one free gift of a forgiveness lesson. The ‘damn cat’ reaction catalysed instantaneously: I started to look for the cat so I could rub her nose in it and then throw her out of the house unceremoniously. And then I remembered: I let forgiveness rest upon all things, for thus forgiveness will be given me. The cool-down took longer than the ignition – as could be expected – and now all that’s left is a faint laughter: at my response and the cat’s thought processes.

Wednesday, March 15, 2006

Free go

This is not about getting rid of the ego; it is about recognizing its presence. Getting rid of the ego is like letting go of thoughts: impossible, completely back-to-front. Thoughts let go of me once I’ve looked into them; the ego gets rid of me once I’ve seen how silly it looks. The ego hates looking silly. And yet that’s what it is: silly, childish, immature, illogical. Innocent. It is its very innocence that underlies all this, for that is what it is attempting to hide in its desire to be strong and important. The poor thing is ashamed of its innocence – the very thing that would set it free. So there is nothing left to do but love the ego, adore its sinlessness – its innocence, and set that sweet, misguided child free.

Tuesday, March 14, 2006

Slow news day

Last night’s rain has cooled the air, softened it. There is a gentleness in coolness; it caresses my skin, generating the odd goose bump as in anticipation. It moves my arms to hug me, and that can’t be a bad thing. It is cool but not cold, the low end of temperate.

And the words eke out, like squeezing the lifeblood from the pen, wringing it tightly to find that last drop of ink, to transform it into some word or other. A slow news day, the inspiration not forthcoming, chilled by the air into dormancy. I feel as though I could sit here all day and not get to the end of the page, like a stutterer attempting a tongue–twister.

Monday, March 13, 2006

Feels like spring

This feels like spring: the birds sing to one another; the air is warm; new buds and daffodils. Wasps fly around the house, fresh grass greens the ground; and where we sledded just a month or so ago, now a plastic playground has formed, seemingly growing from the ground: a see-saw, a slide, a sandbox, and a rocking fish. Yes, a rocking fish. I notice the rose bush I pruned just a couple of weeks ago with fresh red buds blossoming and I feel the wind caress my woolly cheek. E tells me now is the time to rid myself of my beard, that the extra coating is no longer required, and I am likely to heed her advice. She is the one who has to look at me, to feel me; not I. My appearance is of little concern to me: I would prefer not to scare people with it, make them uncomfortable; and then, I don’t mind if I do. It is not my business how they respond, and still I do my best to be kind.

Soon, the evergreens will blend again with the summer leaves; soon the shadow trees will hide their bare limbs. Soon, open vistas will be covered by a canopy of green. It’s all too beautiful either way.

All these birds returning to their summer homes, celebrating in song a successful journey; preparing for new life, opportunity. It is nice to hear them call, to tell me of their gladness.

Wooden doors hinge on the breeze like wings and I can but gaze in awe. Tree limbs wave, a virtual sea, while a bit of tin somewhere bends percussively. And the wind itself is music, the inspiration for every wind instrument we have made, as it rushes through the forest, swirls overhead and blows its harmonies.

This is springtime; this is the awakening.

Sunday, March 12, 2006

The good student

Life and everything in it is my teacher; the universe is my school. My goal is to graduate.

Saturday, March 11, 2006

E's birthday

E’s birthday. Happy birthday E! You are a gift. Every day you teach me, every day I learn through you. You teach me love and patience and tolerance and gratitude; gentleness, kindness, friendliness and comfort; care and tenderness, humanity and joy. I am learning so much through you that at times it overwhelms me, makes me blind. Slowly you are soaking into me, penetrating my pores and softening me. It is a process, E, and thankfully you are patient and gentle enough to manage it, for the softening of this one is a tough ask. Thank you so much, you are gorgeous.

You are a new spring dawning, a fragrant white flower blossoming. You are a bottomless well of possibility, a creator, creative spirit burning. Your beauty shines brightly, magnificent warm light flowing through you. You are a path to freedom, my very own yellow brick road. You are the sun and the stars and the moon bundled up in one, stillness and movement in unison.

E, I love you and all you are to me. Thank you.

Friday, March 10, 2006

Two choices

Okay, so I’m starting to see this: to receive whatever I request really only leaves me two options. If I choose anything on the level of the world, what I am asking for is duality: if I ask for wealth I am also asking for poverty – for they are either side of the same thing; if I ask for success I am also requesting failure; even asking for peace is requesting stress. My other option is to request that it all be taken out of my hands, that I give it all up to let the simple directions lead the way. There are only two choices: the level of the world and surrender.

What would I choose? I have clearly been choosing on the level of the world of late, for stress has been gripping me tightly, wringing me mercilessly, leaving me a crumpled, exhausted mess languishing on the floor. If ever surrender was called for it has been in these moments of hopelessness; and still I fight, kicking and punching feebly at the imagined aggressor in my head.

What has been the source of all this stress? I would tell you it was a computer - an inanimate box! Yes, that’s right, tell your friends that J has allowed himself to crumble at the mercy of a box! It’s hilarious, isn’t it? At least if it was another person I could say they did this to me and that to me, and if you were so inclined you would choose to believe it was possible; you may experience some empathy – oh yes, people have done that to me, too; you may find a place for sympathy in your heart; you may even go and give that person a good dressing down, or at least try and spread a whole bunch of vicious gossip about them on my behalf.

But this is a box. What possible satisfaction can you get from telling people that a box is refusing to cooperate with me? Now, J’s been perfectly reasonable; he’s done everything he can to accommodate that box; he’s fed it updates; sought help to resolve its problems; massaged its keyboard with his fingers – and still, it refuses to do what he asks it! How inconsiderate. How could it ever expect anyone to ever do anything for it ever again? You know, I’ve got a mind to go and tell that box exactly what I think of it!

No, that’s just ridiculous.

I love that the source of my frustration of late has been inanimate. It really helps put things in perspective. My ‘other’ for now can’t even function unless I press a switch; it only ever responds to my input; everything it does is based on predefined programs: oh, the list of metaphors is endless. Its screen is even a projection! I love it. I am just so grateful that such a clear example of the insanity of my projections has been given me.

I was asked recently if a malfunctioning computer was to be my path to freedom, would I take it? Yes please!

Thursday, March 09, 2006

Breakfast in bed

The silverware tinkles behind me as L prepares breakfast willingly for us. My, how things change! For almost the entire time I’ve been here she’s been so obstinate about having breakfast made for her that she would even refuse outright to get a piece of fruit for herself just to tide her over while either E or I got it together. This is the very same girl who would scream blue murder if we suggested she get her own glass of water rather than drop what we’re doing to be at her beck and call. And now today, completely voluntarily, she is in the kitchen, humming to herself, preparing breakfast!

Oh how true it seems that these things need not be forced. Everything in time – at exactly the right time. I look around and see the miracles constantly unfolding: the kids warming to me; their Dad becoming increasingly helpful and cooperative; the ends always somehow being met; the house steadily emptying, tidying; my mind clearing from the funk that possessed it all those months. It all just keeps getting better, and it seems the less ‘I’ ‘do’ about it, the more readily it evolves. Those funk-filled days were densely packed with ‘me’ and the way I wanted things to be: I would interfere, force things, try to make things happen, and the ultimate result was frustration on my part and confusion, fear for those around me.

When I thought I knew how things should be what I noticed was the anger that erupted with the realization that they weren’t. Now I am leaning more towards seeing that this is what I want now, so many of the things I thought I wanted then are happening now. I love the irony of this.

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

One last request

I will receive whatever I request. (ACIM Lesson 339); I get what I ask for. I can get what I want, but I might not want what I get - so be careful what I ask for.

So what would I request? Be careful now! I would ask for wholeness: the everlasting experience of oneness with all. I would choose the peace and harmony that comes from such an experience. I would want to share this with all that surrounds me.

And if I make no decisions by myself, this is the life I shall have. It is all waiting for me in surrender: sweet, inviting surrender.

It seems that is what I have been doing a lot of this morning: surrendering. For ages I sat here, notebook in hand, eyes closed; unable, unwilling to write. Surrender is certainly not an art I have mastered, though. Not when life gets in the way. A child’s scream, a malfunctioning computer, a slow driver, a fast driver, a mess, a cross word, a mistake: all have the capacity to disturb that peace; to see me choose control instead of surrender. My request may be granted, but first I have to be clear that’s what I really want; first I have to end the confusion.

And that is the choice: do I wish to assume the illusion of control, or would I surrender? Hmm, let’s see: frustration and anger, the need to know, to be right; or peace and harmony, loving this now, knowing not what it is. Entering the unknown is more than not knowing where I am going or what I am doing: it is not knowing anything. It seems such a sacrifice to this one who would know it all, and yet where is the sacrifice in complete peace? What could I lose by having everything?

For long enough now I have known the pain of being right: I have lived its cynicism; I have felt its aloneness; I have fought its wars. Today I choose the bliss of not knowing. Today I head home.

Tuesday, March 07, 2006

The time is now

Give in, succumb, for the time is now. It always was.

Monday, March 06, 2006

Alone with my thoughts

I am affected only by my thoughts. (ACIM Lesson 338) My thoughts create my reality. There is no other way. My thoughts have taken me here, to Floyd, Virginia: land of snow and rain and forests; home of hippies; place of peace, just like any other. I am dreaming a wonderful dream, and it only gets better the more I choose the thoughts I would believe.

I believe I am successful; I believe I am entitled to all that is given me; I believe I have earned it; I believe my life is wonderful; I believe I have been incredibly fortunate; I believe that I am home; I believe I can go anywhere, as on a whim; I believe I am respected; I believe people want to know me; I believe I am prosperous; I believe in my total abundance.

Life isn’t too hard when you realize it is affected only by your thoughts. Change those thoughts and anything is possible.

I have lived so long as a victim that I know that thought world well: people are out to get me; I can’t make ends meet; I need to be better; I need to be right; I need to impress; I need to be cool; life is hard; the world is cruel; people can be mean; it’s not fair; you can’t trust anyone. Oh yes, I know these ones well – learned them off by heart. And I don’t want them anymore, don’t believe them, don’t believe in them. They are fading, and taking their place is a brand new beautiful world, indescribable and amazing. This is what I would choose.

The mind is a funny thing: we are born without thinking, and then the first thought comes, and then, some time later, we let our thoughts control us. They would repress us, victimize us, threaten us and abuse us; they would tell us what to believe and somehow we succumb to them and suffering inevitably follows. And yet there was a time before our first thought and we did fine without it.

My thoughts are for me to choose from; they do not control me. I refuse to be a victim anymore.

Sunday, March 05, 2006

No escape

The fire rages, I awaken, and the day gives me what I need yet again. There seems to be no escaping that.

Saturday, March 04, 2006

My greatest enemy

It is said My sinlessness protects me from all harm. (ACIM Lesson 337) And I discovered recently that if I didn’t believe I could sin - if I had no reason to believe I would be punished - then I would never have anything to fear. And without fear there would only be love, for that is the essential choice I am always making: fear or love, the only two emotions.

So what is it I fear? What punishment do I think I deserve? What makes me heavy? I am fearful of being found out, that all my darkest thoughts will be revealed. And now, when I see this, I see the insanity of such a fear: they are only thoughts, and completely harmless if not believed. My fear stems from my belief in them. And, as I discovered the other day, I am still very fearful of ‘doing it wrong’, like I could know what that means. I am so scared of failing.

And what I do when I think I’ve done something ‘wrong’, think I’ve failed, is to punish myself: I berate, I bring on the guilt trips, I live in a universe of ‘what ifs’, I beat myself up in any way I can – even physically in extreme cases! I’m a funny one. I do the punishing in order to beat anyone else to the job. I am judge, jury and executioner of this one, and by being this I think no-one else can hurt me. And why would they need to when I’m so capable of doing it myself? So when I see my sinlessness I am protected from my greatest enemy: myself.

And when I see myself as the enemy, as the sinner, I project this outwards. And who is there to receive the full brunt of this projection? E. Beautiful, loving, innocent E. All this self-hatred is dished onto her and she becomes the guilty one, the sinner. How can love flow in this environment? How can there be anything but fear and its manifestation: guilt? Self-perpetuation is the method of my existence.

So now I weigh up all the evidence and find myself to be innocent. The only sin was believing that I could. I can never know that I’ve ever done anything wrong; I can only know that all is as it should be. And if I can see my sinlessness clearly, there will be nothing left to fear.

My sinlessness does protect me from all harm.

Friday, March 03, 2006

Nothing to lose

I got nothing: got no things, got no money, got nothing to say, nothing to do or be; for I am nothing, just a speck, just a blip, just a little bit more of the everlasting emptiness. I am lucky: many people are holding on to a lot more than I. They have things and friends and family galore, consumed by their consumption. What do I have? A blanket over my knees, a mouthful of phlegm and a desire to go to the bathroom. There may be more, but these are the most immediate things for now.

Thursday, March 02, 2006


A bloke on NPR blabbers on about something people only pretend to care about; my eyes attempt to unblur – possibly a result of his monologue, more likely as I’ve only just become aware I’m awake. Been on autopilot for a little while now. Morning business attended to, now comes time to sit for a moment and flow.

Kiki died last night. Hit by a car. Must have been sudden because I let him out minutes before we heard the news. E arrived home to find him at the top of the driveway: eyes unblinking, shining in the headlights.

I couldn’t find tears for him then, though E could. Instead I reflected on the lifeless body I was looking at, seeing it not as Kiki, but a body for the first time. All these bodies walking around, sitting, talking, mingling, busying, driving, jumping, laughing, crying, and all I am looking at are bodies. Yet I identify each and every one as an individual. I see each of these separately as Jack and Bob and Mary and Sue. I don’t see them as reflections, projections of me. I don’t see that they are not their bodies. No, I use their bodies to identify them, to tell me who and what they are. I live a mistaken existence, and that is okay. That is what I do now.

And Kiki has helped me see it. Kiki is helping me realize that these bodies are meaningless: just breathing organisms that elements of this attach to from time to time. No harm in that, no harm in road-testing something.

The clouds form a blanket overhead. A wavy blanket of light and darkening grey. Waves form too from the radio, people’s voices, the rapid pulsations of every subatomic particle: exist now, now don’t, now do, now don’t, ad infinitum, never stopping for a moment to help us realize how ridiculous is this concept of existence. Millions upon millions of times every second every part of me ceases to exist, and yet here I am holding on tight to my identity: Caucasian male; 36; Scorpio; venue manager; partner of E; stepdad of Y and L; bearded; graying; thin; son of C and T; brother of S, M, N and D; facilitator of The Work; writer of this blog; reader of tarot. Millions upon millions of times every second of every day none of this could possibly be true because none of this exists.

How entertaining is the mind! To think it would believe the images it makes; to imagine such a fantastic existence, it is such an incredible thing.

Wednesday, March 01, 2006

Picture of innocence

Forgiveness lets me know that minds are joined. (ACIM Lesson 336) I see through it that everything I hold them responsible for is something I see in myself. Forgiveness is the turnaround. Forgiveness shows me what I see in someone else was only ever a projection of what I see in myself. Forgiveness sets me free.

And I am forgiven. None of it was true. There was nothing ever to forgive. Can I hold a thought responsible? Can I blame something as involuntary as that? All I ever did was believe some thoughts that I later thought I shouldn’t have – or someone else thought I shouldn’t have – and the belief of a thought is innocence personified. How much more innocent could one be than to believe something unquestioningly like that? Thought comes; I believe it: picture of innocence. I never knew my way; never knew what I was meant to be doing with my life, and that is because nobody ever does; they are just believing their thoughts too. Now I am beginning to understand that I don’t know what anything is for; I don’t know what anything means; and through this my innocence shines as a beacon. I see clearly now that I never knew what I was doing because there was never anything to know.