So, I've mentioned (a few times) that I've been a bit off balance since my agent (I call him mine even though we don't have an official contract yet because we are in the process of bonding) let me know that he thinks I need to do more work on my novel. Well, I have been reeling really, and not just a little.
So the question becomes how to find balance.
At this point, you need to know that given my passionate nature, reeling like this from disappointment, anger, or sadness has been a common theme in my life's story. The first thing I had to figure out was that experiencing OTHER PEOPLE NOT DOING WHAT I WANTED THEM TO DO and careening around like a party balloon all blown up and let go to fly around the room without its proper knot, was off balance. How that happened is another story. But, thankfully, I did figure that out and then begin, with a little help from friends, to practice ways of finding balance.
My point is: it's a practice.
This morning, I took my coffee, my journal, and my copy of Ask and It Is Given by Esther and Jerry Hicks on The Teachings of Abraham out to sit by the pool. This book is one of the most positively influential and helpful self-help books I've ever read. As I have read the book many times and use the tools for meditation found within its pages frequently, I didn't need to start at the beginning. So, I held the book and asked where to start, the book fell open to page 44.
Emotions are indicators of your alignment with Source Energy. Oh. That. Okay. Fine.
So, I sat back, settled in, closed my eyes and began to breathe. My mind raced around in circles like a puppy, jumping and panting, demanding attention. Thinking I told myself. Breathe. My mind whimpered a little. Thinking I said. Breathe. My mind peed a little then stepped in it tracking it all over the place.
"Oh Christ!" I said. Well then that made me think. Who is this Christ? Am I really supposed to pray to someone who supposedly lived 2010 years ago? This is NOT a new question for me.
Grant you, I did pray to the accepted, iconoclastic concept of Jesus Christ as he is presented in Christian doctrine for many years. I grew up Southern Baptist and was baptised twice by the time I was thirteen years old, so believe me, I've prayed in Jesus' name.
I also have not done that for many years, especially since I have studied the work of feminist theologians like Riane Eisler in her work The Chalice and the Blade and art historians like Camille Paglia in her work Sexual Personae: Art and Decadence from Nefertiti to Emily Dickinson. These works suggest, as do many, that Jesus of Nazareth is a myth not a person, that his personae is a composite figure created by a patriarchy willing to do anything to discount former, powerful connections to goddess worshiping cultures and redirect the people of that time to the worship of the One True God.
While I intellectually understand these arguments, it is undeniable that the foundation of my fundamental spiritual belief system is grounded in the teachings of Christ. And something in me (no doubt the one I call Little Baptist Girl) still wants to access the Great Compassion of this beloved Teacher.
You see my conflict.
So back to balancing. I continued breathing, turned the focus of my body's eyes up and inward to the back of my third eye, connected to earth from my Dan Ti en point, and whispered, "I want to connect to the teacher known as the Christ, to Sophia, the Great Wisdom." I sat for less than a minute before my actually (a mixed black lab) dog came obediently to me, panting and nudging my hand for attention. You've heard the joke: dog spelled backwards....
I laughed and gave him a good scratch, ate some breakfast and went for a haircut. Then, feeling more beautiful than I have in months, headed for painting supplies in town at Hobby Lobby.
Walking toward the back of the store where they keep the paints, I heard a familiar tune coming from the ceiling. Caught myself humming, "Hmmmmmmm, this I know..." OH MY GOD! No kidding, they were piping in "Jesus Loves Me." Did Hobby Lobby change hands? I thought. I've never heard christian music played here before. That's weird. I kept shopping. Ignored the music. But then I began to hum again, "Hmmmmmm," I don't know these words, yes I do, Oh my god! I began to sob as I am now. I had to stifle the sound rising from my gut. It was the the hymn (by Jan Struther) my mother chose for us to sing as the close of her memorial last October. It might as well have been my mother's voice (her personal belief in the Present Christ, a deep well of faith) singing to me from above:
Lord of all gentleness, Lord of all calm,
Whose voice is contentment, whose presence is balm,
Be there at our sleeping, and give us, we pray,
Your peace in our hearts, Lord, at the end of the day.
She might as well have been saying, "Yes. Jesus lives. He's here with me. You hear?"
As I drove home this quote from the Bible came, "He who believes in me (the Christ) shall be saved." My mind's rebuttal, but I don't. Not like they teach it. Then the thought, she whose beliefs are of the Christ shall be saved.
And I was, at that moment, again. I was never supposed to worship any man, not even Jesus the man. It is Wisdom, though, to practice his teachings (and those of other great spiritual teachers). It is Wisdom to practice loving-kindness toward myself and others and when I find myself out of balance, it is Wisdom to call on the Nameless, lean into the Great Mystery, and let go.