The Stillness of Remembering

. . . brightening the light in our shared mind

Sometimes we have to be patient. We have to adopt an attitude of gentle waiting. We have to trust in the face of what otherwise appears hopeless or grim. It is hard to remember - let alone practice - but often, doing nothing is the way our already-given relationship with Jesus and the Holy Spirit - and other symbols of Love - is both revealed and enacted.

Lesson 107 has been in my thoughts lately, in conjunction with something Tara Singh once said. The lesson teaches us that truth will correct all errors in our minds (W-pI.107.9:5). And what are errors in the end but reflections of the strange belief that we can be separate from God?

What strikes me about that lesson is its implication that truth is active. It is a dynamic force. Truth will come to us (W-pI.107.3:3), its presence will be corrective (W-pI.107.4:4), and it is perfectly unaffected by illusions of any kind (W-pI.107.5:4). We cannot make truth untrue (e.g., T-14.II.2:1). We do nothing; truth does everything.

Last week I wrote that Spring had apparently come to our corner of New England. This week winter returned. We walked in falling snow, freezing winds blowing in our faces. At a distance, the river looked like a band of solid ice. But drawing closer, you could see and hear water flowing underneath. I know that in another month or so, at dusk, I will be able to sit here and watch trout feed.

The wintry scene was beautiful; dreams of spring were beautiful, too. Everywhere I looked, I saw a cause for joy.

You were not meant to suffer and to die. Your Father wills these dreams be gone. Let truth correct them all (W-pI.107.6:7-9).

In the preface to The Voice that Precedes Thought Tara Singh talks about the discovery that throughout his life - appearances and effort to the contrary - he was never really doing anything. Rather, everything was being done by Love to, for and through him.

Suddenly I realized
I was being educated all along by the Unknown
with a gratefulness that transcends time (xiv).

That realization, he wrote, "opened new vistas and an awareness / of forces at work beyond appearances."

He is talking about what Jesus is talking about in Lesson 107. Truth is active even when we are not aware of it. It is not contingent on the apparent circumstances of our lives, be they blissfully happy or full of darkness. Those extremes - and every point in between them - are illusory. They do not touch truth. Nor can they impede its steady flow, ever calling us to clarity, holiness and gratitude.

For many years, I was afraid of my dog Jake's death. It's hard to talk about. My father died and it was hard but I wasn't scared. But with Jake, I wasn't sure if I would be okay. I was afraid of spiraling. I was afraid I might hurt myself or, worse, others. Jake had taught me more about love than anyone. How does one let a relationship like that go?

He died relatively suddenly. The night before we'd walked a down old trails, and lingered in moonlight listening to wind. He was old and creaky but he wasn't dying. But in the morning it was clear. He swayed standing. He was lost and confused.

He sank into a nest of blankets in the living room. I knelt a few feet away, still and attentive. When he died - when the light went out of his eyes - a current of joy lifted me through the ceiling, above the house, and into the company of sunlight and clouds. There was so much gratefulness. I knew - I knew - that even though he was no longer present in a body, I would never be apart from him. And in all the years since, I never have been.

Rest in the Holy Spirit, and allow His gentle dreams to take the place of those you dreamed in terror and in fear of death . . . In the dreams He brings there is no murder and there is no death (T-27.VII.14:3,5).

In our practice, we reach a juncture where we trust that there are - as Tara Singh put it - "forces at work beyond appearances." Those forces are reflections of the love that surpasses understanding. It doesn't mean nothing sad or challenging will ever happen - those things are part of our learning here in the world - but it does make riding their currents a little easier.

Ice-bound rivers melt and sing again. They will freeze again, too, but so what? Once we take the song on faith - remembering it sings even when we cannot hear it - then despair's stranglehold is undone. Even now the truth is at work in us, the halo of its light undoing all the darknesses we imagine enfold us. It lifts and heals us, allowing us to see the world with new eyes.

[Y]ou will be glad to look again upon this world. For you will bring with you the promise of the changes which the truth that goes with you will carry to the world (W-pI.107.10:1-2).

Beneath sorrow and hard times then - beyond joy and good times - and beyond even our preference for one or the other - is a state of quiet stillness in which we no longer fear uncertainty. Nothing real can be threatened and nothing unreal exists. We understand that "love without trust is impossible," that "doubt and trust cannot coexist” (M-7.4:6). We create together accordingly.

The teachers of God have trust in the world, because they have learned it is not governed by the laws the world made up. It is governed by a power that is in them but not of them. It is this power that keeps all things safe (M-4.I.1:4-6).

Dogs come and go. I know. Winters and springs, too. Teachers like Tara Singh and books like A Course in Miracles. Even Jesus comes and goes. And it's okay - it's more than okay. They were always just symbols of our relationship with a wholeness that is already perfectly given.

Today, for a moment or two if you can, do nothing. Be still and quiet and wait for the memory of Love and Love's teachers to dawn again in our shared mind. Together, let us remember we are never alone.

~ Sean