A Course in Miracles teaches us that "a healed mind does not plan" (W-pI.135.11:1). What does this mean? In theory and in practice, what does it mean?
On the face of it, it makes no sense. I have to work, I have to parent, I have to show up around the place. All that takes planning! Not planning makes me anxious and stressed. Planning and care go hand-in-hand, no?
Well, no. In practice, planning is a form of self-defense. It is an attempt to control life in order to feel safe. And it never ever works.
One of our core needs as human beings is for safety - a place to go where we are not under seige, with people we know will have our backs. Maslow suggested that only physiological needs - air to breathe, water to drink, food to eat - were more important to us than safety.
A Course in Miracles doesn't disagree but it does suggest that true safety is unrelated to the body and its myriad needs - including its need for safety. Safety, according to the Course, can only be found in defenselessness.
Without defenses, you become a light which Heaven gratefully acknowledges to be its own. And it will lead you on in ways appointed for your happiness according to the ancient plan, begun when time was born. Your followers will join their light with yours, and it will be increased until the world is lighted up with joy (W-135.20:1-3).
Most of us when we perceive vulnerability move to protect it. We comfort frightened children during thunder storms; we lend a hand to folks unstable on their feet. We share our umbrella and give up our bus seat. Safety matters.
Which, fine! But that is not really the vulnerability A Course in Miracles is talking about. It’s talking about our perception of our own self as vulnerable - physically vulnerable to viruses or serial killers, and psychologically vulnerable to shame or cultural trauma. That vulnerability - deep in the psyche, seemingly permanent - is a fundamental error of perception and understanding about what we are. Defending against that means not only accepting separation but doubling down on it.
Who would defend himself unless he thought he were attacked, that the attack were real, and that his own defense could save himself? And herein lies the folly of defense; it gives illusions full reality, and then attempts to handle them as real . . . it is this you do when you attempt to plan the future, activate the past, or organize the present as you wish (W-pI.135.1:1-2, 4).
Every time we allow the past to intrude on the present (my parents hit me a lot and it makes my anxious today), and every time we try to organize the present (we are picnicking even thought it’s raining), and every time we plan for the future (let's buy some more blue chip stock for the portfolio), we are defending ourselves. We are protecting ourselves. We are privileging ourselves over and against our brothers and sisters.
All these attempts to control the narrative - what we are, what others are, what the world is, what life means - are attacks on our own innocence. We suffer and our suffering infects the world. There is no defense for what is fundamentally an illusion. Laying down our weapons and taking off our armor is the only way to be safe and include others in that safety.
. . . in defenselessness we stand secure, serenely certain of our safety now, sure of salvation; sure we will fulfill our chosen purpose, as our ministry extends its holy blessing through the world (W-153.9:3).
What happens when we resign as Lord and Master of Life? Or as the Favored Child of the Lord and Master? What happens when we say “not my will but Your Will be done?”
Try not to shape this day as you believe would benefit you most. For you can not conceive of all the happiness that comes to you without your planning (W-pI.135.26:1-2).
It sounds good, right? But . . . how do we do it exactly? How do we not shape the day?
But it’s a trick question. How to do it is not a mystery. You and I are naturally able to live without plans. We were created to co-create the present without any consideration for past or future. But this inherent ability is masked by a lack of trust. I don't trust you, I don't trust Creation and I don't trust God.
That is what I want to go into. Forget about my apparent inability to live life without planning and instead get real about specialness - my sense of entitlement, my "me me me," which is the source of all conflict and grief. Specialness, says the Course, is a lack of trust in anyone except our own selves (T-24.IV.1:1).
Faith is invested in yourself alone. Everything else becomes your enemy; feared and attacked, deadly and dangerous, hated and worthy only of destruction. Whatever gentleness it offers is but deception, but its hate is real. In danger of destruction it must kill, and you are drawn to it to kill it first (T-24.IV.1:2-5).
Those who do not trust, judge (M-4.III.1:6), and those who judge cannot know peace.
You have no idea of the tremendous release and deep peace that comes from meeting yourself and your brothers totally without judgment. When you recognize what you are and what your brothers are, you will realize that judging them in any way is without meaning. In fact, their meaning is lost to you precisely because you are judging them (T-3.VI.3:1-3).
To truly trust is to accept that God has a plan for our collective salvation, which means letting go of our so-called plans for salvation and not panicking when it seems like God's Plan isn’t instantly perfectly working out for us.
This means coming to a different order of value. It means valuing relationship over the individual (the separated) self; it means valuing awakening unto holiness over the ongoing sleep of specialness. It means committing to sharing our lives so that together we might remember God, Whose plan for the world is happiness and peace.
All of which, collectively, means realizing that of our own selves we can do nothing (T-10.V.5:1). Only in relationship can we remember the cause for joy and peace, and thus realize salvation, and extend it to the world without qualification or condition.
Of yourself you can do nothing, because of yourself you are nothing . . . In our remembrance of each other lies our remembrance of God. And in this remembrance lies your freedom because your freedom is in Him (T-8.IV.7:3, 6-7).
Love creates through us not as individuals pursuing separate goals designed to appease our guilt and fear but as a holy relationship in which the function of the body and the self are given to awakening the other. We let go of our hopes and dreams, our fears and regrets and instead become co-creators, through relationship, of happiness and peace.
We come to a posture of devout service, infused by miracle-minded thinking, in which the gap between us is naturally undone.
A miracle is a service. It is the maximal service you can render to another. It is a way of loving your neighbor as yourself. You recognize your own and your neighbor’s worth simultaneously (T-1.I.18:1-4).
Nobody can be excluded from this service! If one brother or sister suffers, then we are not yet Christ. And while this is not a crime against God or nature it is a gentle call to continue identifying the blocks to love in our own lives.
Therefore, don't worry about living without plans. That will happen naturally as we learn to trust our selves, our neighbors and our God. And that learning happens by showing up over and over - with open hands, open hearts and open minds - to the life that is given to us. This life - the one that is here, now.
Notice when you see a need and secretly want a reason not to respond to it. Notice when you prioritize the body's comfort or wellness over helping another. Notice when your mind wanders into fantasy and nostalgia. Just notice it. Don't be disappointed in yourself. Don't cancel the yoga class or put the photos away. Instead, ask how to use this moment to best remember your own holiness so that you will have something valuable to offer to the safety of your brothers and sisters.
When we remember our own holiness, it naturally extends through us to gather all our brothers and sisters - as one - in love. Little by little the individual self is dissolved in the gentle clarity that happiness is shared, not protected or defended, and only we can do it.
~ Sean
Dearest soul brother: I have read this twice and will go back and read it once again. It speaks to me loud and clear and answers many unasked questions that have lay dormant and now it blesses me to continue to simply be "love in form" and simply show up and "be" without too much concern of what will I "do". Awakens once again in the trust: "Where will you have me go? What will you have me do? and What will you have me say to to whom?"
Thanks for this reminder Sean - so true. Coincidentally, in Oswald Chamber’s My Utmost for His Highest devotional for this date, he is saying something remarkably similar, using different language:
What we will be has not yet been made known. — 1 John 3:2
Naturally, we are inclined to be so mathematical and calculating that we look upon uncertainty as a bad thing. We imagine that we have to reach some goal, but this isn’t the nature of the spiritual life.
The nature of the spiritual life is that we are certain in our uncertainty. Certainty is the mark of the commonsense life; gracious uncertainty is the mark of the spiritual life. To be certain of God means that we are uncertain of the rest, never knowing what a day may bring. This is generally said with a sigh of sadness; it should be said with a burst of breathless expectation: we’re uncertain of the next step, but we’re certain of God.
The instant we abandon ourselves to God, he begins to fill our life with constant surprises. But when we become advocates of a creed, something within us dies. If we are clinging to a creed or a belief, we aren’t believing God himself; we are merely believing our beliefs about him.
Jesus said, “Unless you change and become like little children …” (Matthew 18:3). Spiritual life is the life of a child. A child isn’t uncertain of God, only of what God will do next. If we are sure of our beliefs, we are haughty and absolutely set in our opinions. Jesus said, “Believe also in me” (John 14:1). He didn’t say, “Believe your own ideas about me.” When we are rightly related to God, life is full of spontaneous, joyful uncertainty and expectancy.
Leave everything to God. It is gloriously uncertain how he will come, but he will come.