The Way God Created Me

. . . is how I remember God

Recently, at a conference, one of the organizers pulled me aside to compliment my participation. It felt really good and I wanted more. I also wanted the compliments made public. I wanted everyone to know.

That's ego, right? Wanting more praise, wanting everyone to know I'm special. It arises from insecurity, which is a form of fear. It's a sign that I still don't know myself and thus have forgotten my place in Creation. It's not a crime against God or nature but there is another way.

The part of your mind that you have given to the ego will merely return to the Kingdom, where your whole mind belongs. You can delay the completion of the Kingdom, but you cannot introduce the concept of fear into it (T-5.VI.9:5-6).

We cannot remember our "place in Creation" until we deal with the issue of fear.

And so, a few minutes after that brief conversation, I retreated to a quiet space and prayed. Help me see the fear more clearly, Jesus. Help me remember there's another way. Thank you for the gift of even this much insight and willingness.

That, too, by the way, is ego. Anything that serves our personal interests (I'm bad, I'm good, I'm getting better et cetera) is ego. Ego isn't about how we feel or our opinion about our spiritual progress. I mean, yes. Those shallow manifestations of ego are ego but they aren't ego ego. They aren't the "dark veil" which makes "the face of Christ Himself like to a leper’s" and God's Love "appear as streams of blood" (T-19.IV-D.2:3).

Go back to that moment of praise at the conference, my craving for attention and validation, and the underlying tides of fear giving rise to that craving. For a long time I thought that if I could master the craving and calm the deep tides then I'd be healed.

But I was wrong.

In order to receive the praise, evaluate the praise, and then evaluate the evaluation, something had to already be in place. The craving and the deep tides rest upon something. Whatever that is, it precedes thought. It even precedes awareness.

What is that?

This is not an easy question to answer. Being human is a limitation - there are cognitive and perceptual limits to what we can perceive and understand, much less talk about. I understand the temptation to conclude that we are Love or a Thought in the Mind of God or awareness itself - and I appreciate how that sort of language can be helpful in context - but mostly we are flying blind, figuring things out as we go and hopefully minimizing damage. We’re stumblers, not striders.

David Carse says that “being” and “nothing” are "the last concepts, and the last experiences, available to us" (Perfect Brilliant Stillness 386). After that, who knows?

The paths of mysticism, bhakti and jnana
join here and end here.
All paths can lead this far and no further (386).

The intersection of being and nothing to which Carse points is kin to the wild crossroads in A Course in Miracles where, upon accurately perceiving the limitations of our experience in and of the world, some of us lose hope and die (T-31.IV.3:3-5).

But there is another option and it has nothing to do with choosing one or the other path. We can at that juncture realize that choice is an illusion and, on that basis, surrender our will - our insistence there is a way out of the mess that we can find and we can utilize. We can remember there is no separation anywhere. We can give attention to what is present (and maybe giving attention to us) without trying to make it different or new or other.

We can learn about the happiness and inner peace that naturally follows the decision to “let go and let God.”

There is no road that leads away from Him. A journey from yourself does not exist (T-31.IV.10:4-5).

Remembering there is no separation anywhere begins simply by giving attention to where we are and what's going on. "It's sunny and the cat's asleep and I'm so happy." "It's raining and I’m sad and I'm scared because my sadness feels dangerous." We just give - we make a gift of - attention. How are things at the moment? What is going on? Inside and out. Just notice it. Just give attention to it. That's all.

When we relax and give attention to the present - when we practice the holy instant, which is "all of time there is" (T-15.I.9:5) - the fear that is so pervasive softens. As it does, guilt softens too. It’s easier to be gentle with ourselves and others. The connections between everything clarify. Connectedness clarifies.

Eventually, we see the way connectedness itself is a pointer. It points towards whatever lies beyond the limits of perception and cognition, beyond being and nothing, knowing and not-knowing. A lawful goodness, a boundless love, an all-encompassing creativity and peace . . . That is the light in the darkness. That is the innocence reminding us in each moment that we can only be as God created us.

"I am as God created me" is the prayer that "renders the ego silent and entirely undone" (W-pI.94.1:1).

I will remain forever as I was, created by the Changeless like Himself. And I am one with Him, and He with me (W-pI.112.2:2–3:1).

On the one hand, those are just words. But on the other, they suggest something about our identity - for example, the way it is not ours alone, but shared with God and, by extension, with one another. Or the way “changeless” points to something unaffected by time, which means that we are unaffected by time. But what is outside time?

It’s hard to understand all that - it can sound mystical or even supernatural - but the point isn’t really to understand. Or only understand. The point isn’t to become fluent in spiritual language. The point is to have the experience that the understanding nods towards. Wordiness comes after, if at all.

Driving home from the conference, I pulled over at a rest area to buy a coffee. Returning to the car, an old woman called to me. Would I help her open her hood? She had to put some oil in her car. I helped; of course I helped. I was happy to help. She tried to pay me but I waved her off. She had a poodle in the car and we walked it together, up and down the grass beside the macadam. She told me about her grandson, who wants to be a fire fighter.

Later that night, on the cusp of sleep, I remembered something I'd forgotten. I got up and wrote a few words down to remind me. This is it.