by D. PATRICK MILLER
Into His Presence would I enter now.
I will be still an instant and go home.. • I bless the world because I bless myself.
The light of the world brings peace to every mind through my forgiveness.
I will not be afraid of love today. • I will accept Atonement for myself.
The world I see holds nothing that I want. AND Beyond this world there is a world I want.
I place the future in the hands of God. AND I will step back and let him lead the way.
I choose the joy of God instead of pain. • Forgiveness offers everything I want.
God's will for me is perfect happiness. • Salvation comes from my one Self.
God goes with me wherever I go. • I seek a future different from the past.
"Into His Presence would I enter now."
Workbook Lesson 157, A Course in Miracles
A peculiarity of Course study is that it can take years for particular Text passages or Workbook Lessons to suddenly “light up” or become meaningful in each student’s eyes. What becomes illuminated, and when, will vary from person to person. This lesson recently gained my notice in a new way. In fact, reviewing it gave me the feeling I hadn’t really seen it before at all.
“Today it will be given you to feel a touch of Heaven, though you will return to paths of learning,” suggests the text for Lesson 157. This reminded me of a concept from the Zen tradition, kensho, which is sometimes taken as a synonym for satori or enlightenment. Kensho is more precisely defined as a “first glimpse” or initiatory burst of enlightenment, which then fades. Nonetheless, such a powerful, temporary insight changes everything, in the sense that it accelerates any learning we have already achieved:
“As this experience increases and all goals but this become of little worth, the world to which you return becomes a little closer to the end of time; a little more like Heaven in its ways; a little nearer its deliverance.”
What actually comprises this “Presence”? What are the “ways of Heaven” that reshape our experience of the daily world? To me, Presence is made up of feelings and qualities that heal or ease the primary challenges we face in the everyday challenges of our worldly life:
- Composure in the face of anxiety
- Equanimity in the midst of mental or emotional chaos
- Compassion answering the force of hatred (or the temptation to hate)
- Forgiveness in response to judgment (including the temptation to judge)
- Liveliness to counter the fear of death
No doubt there are more qualities that make up the experience of Presence, and how each of us feels it will vary with our degrees of learning. But the importance of Presence cannot be overestimated, because we actually pine for it throughout our lives. We want it from our broken families, long for it in our imperfect relationships, or believe it will somehow be delivered, like an awaited package on the doorstep, with material wealth, fame, or accomplishment.
Yet we can “have it all” and still miss the experience of a fundamental, enlightening Presence — ironically because we actually spend so much time avoiding it through all our misbegotten measures to find a substitute. Quite literally, Presence is “not of this world” and thus won’t be found in the perfect family, ideal romance, or ego-boosting achievement.
Instead we enter Presence step by step, as we disengage from the conventional beliefs & values of the world. This does not mean we have to fight off those beliefs, or become embittered by the failure of worldly values. Disillusionment may be an unavoidable part of the process, but more important is the inward turning toward Presence that has been there within us all along.
With each turn, or moment of kensho, we then alter the very nature of the world we thought we knew.
You can support the development of this writing:
"I will be still an instant and go home."
Workbook Lesson 182, A Course in Miracles
One of the most mystical lessons of the Course begins with some of its most poignant language:
This world you seem to live in is not home to you. And somewhere in your mind you know that this is true. A memory of home keeps haunting you, as if there were a place that called you to return, although you do not recognize the voice, nor what it is the voice reminds you of. Yet still you feel an alien here, from somewhere all unknown…. No one but knows whereof we speak. Yet some try to put by their suffering in games they play to occupy their time, and keep their sadness from them. Others will deny that they are sad, and do not recognize their tears at all. Still others will maintain that what we speak of is illusion, not to be considered more than but a dream. Yet who, in simple honesty, without defensiveness and self-deception, would deny he understands the words we speak?
The lesson explains that our true home is an inward state of "innocence that will endure forever.” This is the same innocence that we have usually convinced ourselves has been lost forever. This theme is repeated often in religion and philosophy as “the fall of man” or “original sin.” But this loss is not just a philosophical malady. In one way or another, each of us personally experiences losing our innocence — whether it is because we are born into a broken home, betrayed by a friend or lover, or stunned by the realization of having been untrue to ourselves.
Even so, from the point of view of the Course, our loss of innocence is far more profound than any such moral or emotional crisis. Those are just side effects of a greater homelessness.
We are not at home because we have actually lost our minds, and are drifting through a delusory dream of time, space, and matter. We do not know when, why, or how this happened. In fact, most of humanity doesn’t even know it happened — yet a memory of home keeps haunting us all, “as if there were a place that called you to return.”
Many religious and philosophical traditions, as well as modern psychology, recommend the value of developing a meditative stillness. It's assumed that it takes many minutes, hours, or even years of practice to develop this stillness and reap the benefits. Yet this Course lesson suggests that we can return to our inward home of peace in an “instant” of stillness.
That’s because we don’t actually have to go on a prolonged search for our innocence. At any moment in time, we can choose to remember its vast presence within our own minds. (And the Course exists to jog our memory about that presence!) While it's true that the next moment may drop us back into the pain and chaos of our habitual delusions, every instant of going home changes us. We become a bit more peaceful, a little less lonely, a skosh less insane.
Gradually we develop the skill of returning home more and more often, so that it progressively displaces our agonizing habit of inward homelessness. Eventually this instant of being-at-home becomes the only time we know:
You have not lost your innocence. It is for this you yearn. This is your heart’s desire. This is the voice you hear, and this the call which cannot be denied… And now the way is open, and the journey has an end in sight at last.
"I bless the world because I bless myself."
Workbook Lesson 187, A Course in Miracles
Years ago when I first met and interviewed the late Course philosopher Kenneth Wapnick, Ph.D., I tried to play a little trick on him. I asked him if it were possible to sum up the message of the 1200-page teaching in just a few words — expecting him to say that just wasn't possible, or it would take him a while to think it through, etc. Instead he had an answer at the ready, one that I would hear him repeat several times in the decades to follow.
"Sure, that's easy," Ken smiled. "The overall message of the Course is: 'Try to be a little kinder.'"
He went on to explain that he didn't just say, "Be kind," because the 1200 pages of the Course exist to take us through the discipline, demands, trials and tribulations of just TRYING to be kinder.
And why is that so hard? To begin with, from the ACIM point of view, the "world" itself is a profoundly tragic and mistaken form of unkindness. As the text of Lesson 129 puts it, "The world you see is merciless indeed, unstable, cruel, unconcerned with you, quick to avenge and pitiless with hate. It gives but to rescind, and takes away all things that you have cherished for a while. No lasting love is found, for none is here. This is the world of time, where all things end."
Yet the Course makes clear that this unkind world is neither the result of God's punishment nor the blind workings of a mindless universe. Instead, each of us projects the world we experience from within our own mind. We experience it as unkind because we believe, at a very deep unconscious level, that we have attacked God.
Or, in other words, we think we have turned against our own divine, all-encompassing nature of love in order to experience ourselves as individual centers of the universe (otherwise known as "egos"). The end result of this not-so-bright choice for all-powerful autonomy is that we spend our lives looking for lasting love (or even just a bit of kindness) in a loveless world that seems to be set against us.
When times get tough, it can be really annoying to be reminded that we should "count our blessings." Right now, as we watch our world seemingly crumble under the pressures of pestilence, environmental degradation, racism, and a violently dying patriarchy, we may feel "down for the count" with no blessings to number.
What the Course would have us do instead is "create our blessings" through the means of forgiveness, compassion, care and understanding, which altogether might be summed up as kindness. Recently studying Lesson 187, I recognized that to "bless myself" is to treat all my trials and tribulations — inner and seemingly outer — with kindness.
That doesn't mean engaging in any particular behavior of self-care or indulgence, but simply to review everything that seems to be going wrong in the light of kindness instead of the darkness of worry, anxiety, suspicion, or despair. It's not an automatic or easy thing to do, which is to say it can take some trying.
This kind of inner work is not all we need to be doing right now, of course — but it just might be the foundation of making the world we see a little kinder.
"The light of the world brings peace
to every mind through my forgiveness."
Workbook Lesson 63, A Course in Miracles
When I first encountered this lesson from ACIM over three decades ago, I was heading down a steep slide of failing health. I had been diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (CFS) about four months earlier, after awaking one morning with a severe stomachache that would not end for seven years.
I had begun studying the Course out of sheer desperation. There was no logical reason to think that it would offer any kind of cure for my mysterious malady. But I wasn’t finding any cures, period. The Course had fallen into my lap soon after my world began falling apart, and I was simply compelled to do it.
I was embarrassed to be studying something chockful of religious language, given my identity as a cynical agnostic. Two months in, however, it had begun to dawn on me that the language of ACIM was largely symbolic. As I would later learn from Course editor and scholar Ken Wapnick, such language was intended to work directly on the unconscious. One thing was for sure: my conscious mind couldn’t figure it out.
One of many CFS symptoms I suffered was “non-refreshing sleep,” that is, sleeping restlessly for 12 to 14 hours and awaking exhausted. I experienced an enormous amount of dream activity during these marathons, much of it anxiety-ridden and seemingly pointless. But every once in a while, I would have a dream that seemed to fit the category of what ACIM refers to, only once, as “light episodes”:
As we go along, you may have many "light episodes." They may take many different forms, some of them quite unexpected. Do not be afraid of them. They are signs that you are opening your eyes at last. They will not persist, because they merely symbolize true perception, and they are not related to knowledge. These exercises will not reveal knowledge to you. But they will prepare the way to it. [from the text of Workbook Lesson 15]
The most dramatic dream came a few hours after I had first read Lesson 63, and then fell asleep. I was looking up into a blue sky where I saw a window with white curtains, unattached to any house or structure, floating all on its own. As I puzzled over this manifestation, the window began slowly rotating until the curtains were whirling around the window. Just when it all became a blur, the window abruptly stopped spinning, the curtains came to rest and then magically parted as a blinding ray of golden-white light came from the sun through the window — a blast of light so powerful that I felt obliterated. And then I awoke with a gasp.
After catching my breath, I rose from the bed and went to my desk. It was about three in the morning. I began writing a short story that would occupy most of my attention for the next thirty hours. It was not a story that was even remotely autobiographical, featuring characters who came to my imagination from out of nowhere. Although I started the story without knowing where it was going, it ended with the female protagonist, a grieving widow, experiencing this same dream. When the story felt complete, I collapsed in tears for nearly an hour and then finally fell asleep again, experiencing an almost normal rest for the first time in months.
When I awoke, I knew somehow that this remarkable light episode marked a turning point in my illness — a hint that I was beginning to “open my eyes at last.” But I would continue to get sicker for another year and a half, before beginning a slow, grinding recovery for the next five years. By the end of that tumultuous seven-year awakening, the world I had previously lived in was gone, and I found myself starting over in a new one. Key to my recovery was forgiveness of everything that had gone before, and also learning how to take care of myself instead of fighting my illness — a distinction that it took me quite a while to learn.
Since that time, I have been through the Course Workbook of lessons twice in order. In recent years, I do lessons only when they come to mind… sometimes none at all for days, and then one that takes hold for days at a time.
As the coronavirus pandemic exploded I found myself revisiting Lesson 63. It has been a daily presence in my mind for several weeks now. Perhaps this is because the whole world has now fallen ill, and is likely in for more destruction and decline before a long haul of recovery — after which it will never be the same. Yet there are already paradoxical signs of healing even in the midst of this deadly contagion. Atmospheric scientists are beginning to figure out how many lives will be saved by the decrease in air pollution resulting from the worldwide shutdown — and it may well be more lives than are taken by the virus. This is more than ironic; this is clearly a lesson to us all about the costs we have paid to create what we call civilization. Perhaps the brighter skies present a "light episode" for us all.
Yesterday I was taking a walk in a local park when I looked up into the stunning blue sky, as clear as I can recall from recent memory, and I remembered that spinning, light-struck window from my dream so many years ago. I confess that after all these years, I still don’t entirely understand the meaning of “The light of the world brings peace to every mind through my forgiveness.” But since the Course reminds us that “health is inner peace” (Text Chapter 2, section I), I think this lesson is offering a kind of spiritual contagion.
A spiritual contagion will not magically wipe out the biological contagion that is sweeping the world. But perhaps it can help us find the peace that we need — not only to get through these profoundly difficult times, but to provide the foundation for a healthier, saner world after we have been forced to let go of this one.
The short story described in this essay was published by THE SUN and later anthologized in STUBBORN LIGHT: The Best of THE SUN, Vol. III. It is now available free in a variety of digital formats, including Kindle, at Smashwords. A longer description of my experience with CFS is available here.
"I will not be afraid of love today."
Workbook Lesson 282, A Course in Miracles
(full text follows)
If I could realize but this today, salvation would be reached for all the world. This the decision not to be insane, and to accept myself as God Himself, my Father and my Source, created me. This the determination not to be asleep in dreams of death, while truth remains forever living in the joy of love. And this the choice to recognize the Self Whom God created as the Son He loves, and Who remains my one Identity.
Father, Your Name is Love and so is mine. Such is the truth. And can the truth be changed by merely giving it another name? The name of fear is simply a mistake. Let me not be afraid of truth today.
Coronavirus, climate change, cancer … you don’t have to look far to find something to be afraid of these days. Love is not likely to be on many folks’ top-ten list of things to be feared, at least consciously.
But A Course in Miracles suggests that it is indeed a deep-seated fear of love that’s behind our aggregate of anxieties. The fear of love has metastasized, like a cancer in our minds, to such an extent that we are all mostly “asleep in dreams of death.” Inside those dreams, the number of things that may scare us is incalculable, and subject to an upward swing with every news headline or social media rumor.
We tend to think we are either sensibly defending ourselves or running away in panic from all these frights. Yet ACIM suggests that it is our ancient and ongoing habit of running away from love that has driven us into this nightmarish realm of existence. That is, we elected all these fears in order to identify ourselves as singular, embodied individuals fighting for our lives, our dignity, and the well-being of those we love.
We may wonder how we ended up in such a tumultuous and threatening set of circumstances, without ever realizing that it all stemmed from the decision — made not just once long ago, but repeated unconsciously almost without pause in our daily lives — to be insane.
To set aside our multitudinous fears — even for just a moment — and instead look at their root cause is thus the first step toward “the decision not to be insane.” That choice gives us at least a glimpse of a different world.
It’s been said that a shaman “keeps a foot in both worlds,” that is, the infinite spiritual world and the material world of time, space, and matter. In that sense, anyone on a genuine spiritual path is doing the difficult shamanic work of resolving two realms of experience. In the ordinary daily world, we struggle with identity and self-worth, health and survival, and the longing for love. With at least a toe dipped into the spiritual world, we are reminded of a far different and surpassing realm — the realm that the Course reminds us is our true home.
Thus, along with the hand-washing, quarantining, and “social distancing ” that are officially recommended nowadays, it’s worth pausing every now and then simply to remember “not to be afraid of love today.” It certainly couldn’t hurt — and in the long run, it just might heal everything.
also by D. Patrick Miller:
"I will accept Atonement for myself."
Workbook Lesson 139, A Course in Miracles
“Atonement” is one of the more slippery concepts discussed in A Course in Miracles, and has been variously interpreted as meaning “at-one-ment” (whatever that is) to some kind of blissful union with the universe at large. But in the text for this lesson, the Course discusses our need for atonement in terms of self-knowledge:
“Uncertainty about what you must be is self-deception on a scale so vast, its magnitude can hardly be conceived. To be alive and not to know yourself is to believe that you are really dead. For what is life except to be yourself, and what but you can be alive instead? Who is the doubter? What is it he doubts? Whom does he question? Who can answer him?”
If there was ever a compelling explanation for the perennial popularity of vampires, zombies, and other iconic representations of the “undead,” this is it: “To be alive and not to know yourself is to believe that you are really dead.”
We fear half-alive monsters not because we think they might actually be out there, but because we experience them within ourselves.
To the extent that we are chronically cynical, afraid, or unforgiving of others or ourselves, we carry some heavy deadweights along with us in our daily life. When the Course urges us to forgive others — even to the point of visualizing an especially difficult individual as our “savior” — it’s not just challenging us to release resentments. It is also provoking us to become more alive, more expressive of our wholeness and power, and more loving of humanity as a whole. To the extent that we achieve this, we truly know ourselves.
That’s a lot harder than simply imagining ourselves to be “at one” with the universe. It’s even harder than trying to make up for your sins, which is the traditional, pre-Course meaning of atonement. Bringing some deadened part of ourselves back to life can induce what might be called a severe bittersweetness, as we grudgingly let go of a habitual pain or aggravation that has become a favorite if useless attachment … rather like a zombie’s rotted arm.
When we accept the Atonement for ourselves, we thus come to know ourselves as beings who are fully and eternally alive in spirit — as opposed to the unending grind of being more or less dead inside.
"The world I see holds nothing that I want."
Workbook Lesson 128, A Course in Miracles
“Beyond this world there is a world I want.”
— Workbook Lesson 129
If you want a philosophy that’s really down on the world as we know it, nothing beats A Course in Miracles. Although frequently mistaken for a New Age love-and-light doctrine, the Course repeatedly expresses a view of the world that would make your typical French existentialist, moaning about mere meaninglessness, look like a Pollyanna. As the text of Lesson 129 puts it: “The world you see is merciless indeed, unstable, cruel, unconcerned with you, quick to avenge and pitiless with hate. It gives but to rescind, and takes away all things that you have cherished for a while. No lasting love is found, for none is here. This is the world of time, where all things end.”
In fact, this bracing attitude is what makes the Course such a paradox as a so-called "New Age" classic. Writing in New Age Religion and Western Culture: Esotericism in the Mirror of Secular Thought (SUNY Press, 1998), Wouter J. Hanegraaff, Professor of History of Hermetic Philosophy of the University of Amsterdam, commented:
“If we were to select one single text as ‘sacred scripture’ in the New Age movement, the sheer awe and reverence with which The Course — as it is fondly called — is discussed by its devotees would make this huge volume the most obvious choice…. This-worldliness, particularly of the weak variety, characterizes the attitude of New Age believers to experiential reality. In this respect, a text such as A Course in Miracles, though often regarded as belonging to the New Age movement, is decidedly atypical…. According to this text — which has correctly been characterized as a Christianized version of non-dualistic Vedanta — our world is just an illusory chimera, which has nothing to offer but violence, sorrow and pain. We must awaken from the bad dream of separation, and reunite with God. . . . Although many other New Age sources routinely use the Oriental concept of ‘maya’ and refer to the world of space-time as ultimately illusory, they seldom come close to the uncompromising world-rejection found in the Course.”
By “this-worldliness,” Hanegraaff is apparently alluding to the fact that most New Age philosophies promote the idea that this world we see every day can be improved — or perhaps even perfected into a “heaven on earth” — via prayer, meditation, enlightened love, prosperity consciousness, and so forth. The Course, by contrast, tells us that it’s all a horrific nightmare from which we can only hope to wake up. And then it goes a crucial step farther:
“There is no world! This is the central thought the course attempts to teach. Not everyone is ready to accept it, and each one must go as far as he can let himself be led along the road to truth. He will return and go still farther, or perhaps step back a while and then return again. But healing is the gift of those who are prepared to learn there is no world, and can accept the lesson now.” [from the text of Workbook Lesson #132]
Learning that “there is no world” heals because the world which seems to be out there is literally within our minds: “There is no world apart from your ideas because ideas leave not their source, and you maintain the world within your mind in thought.”
I’d love to see a public opinion poll that asks people, “What is the world exactly?” I’d be willing to bet that no two people would come up with exactly the same description, despite the fact that we commonly believe we all live in the same world. Depending on how many people were asked in different places and cultures, it would be quite a revelation to recognize just how many wildly variant “worlds” are out there... probably several billion, at least.
Realizing that the world we see is really just a projection of our own ideas is the beginning of hope, healing, and miracles. Because no matter how difficult changing our minds may be, it’s infinitely easier than changing a world that seems to be beyond our control.
I place the future in the hands of God."
Workbook Lesson 194, A Course in Miracles
“I will step back and let him lead the way.”
— Workbook Lesson 155
These two lessons, as well as others like them, might be called the Course antidote to worry. On the face of it, the advice is simple: Turn over your concerns, anxiety, and need to control or plan to God, and Whoever That Is will take over everything for you. (What, me worry?)
But there’s a lot beneath the surface of these lessons, which is always the case with the Course. Since it says elsewhere that “God is an idea,” these lessons will call forth whatever our current idea of God is. If we’re having a religious hangover and still entertaining the idea of a white-maned, judgmental superdaddy-in-the-sky, we might well fear facing our future in his hands. After all, some of the cruelest incidences of personal tragedy and mass destruction have been excused with the old saw, “God works in mysterious ways.”
If, however, we’ve shifted to a New Age God of unceasing illumination and prosperity, we may think these lessons suggest that getting everything we ever wanted is easier than we might have imagined. The problem with this flower-strewn path to grace is that, on closer inspection, we’re likely to find that the flowers are plastic and the path repeatedly dead-ends in the disappointment of one wishful expectation after another.
The longer I’ve worked with the Course, the less it seems like a “spiritual” discipline than a cognitive one. In fact it calls itself a “mind-training,” which means that it is a discipline of how to think. That means gradually refining our ideas, and learning how to choose wisely among them as our guides to attitude, behavior, and relationship. As our idea of what God is deepens and expands, so does the quality of guidance we receive from that God.
Since the Course also offers the definition “God is but love and therefore so am I," this gradual mind-training means that we are coming to understand our whole being as love itself. Love is not likely to lead us on the ego's way, or facilitate a future that we already have planned. And that’s why these lessons call on our courage and readiness to be shown another way.
“I choose the joy of God instead of pain.”
— Workbook Lesson 190, A Course in Miracles
“It is very difficult to sacrifice one’s suffering. A man will renounce any pleasures you like but he will not give up his suffering.” ― G.I. Gurdjieff
Of the many confrontive lessons in A Course in Miracles, this one is nearly the most unsettling of all (though definitely second to “Sickness is a defense against the truth,” which… well, don’t get me started). On the face of it, one might well ask who wouldn’t choose joy over pain.
Yet the choice exists because virtually all of us came down on the side of suffering long ago.
Not only that, suffering is the choice we inadvertently reinforce at almost every moment of awareness — especially when we are most desperate to ease or avoid our habitual suffering. Most addictions get their start in the temporary and ultimately destructive sensations of feeling “high” in order to mask some kind of habitual pain, physical or otherwise. The United States is in the midst of an unprecedented opioid epidemic for precisely that reason.
When I was in the fifth grade I remember being bullied by another kid everybody called "Lemon" (which possibly annoyed him), who was always threatening to put me in “a world of hurt.” The Course says that is exactly what we have done to ourselves by mistakenly believing that our consciousness is trapped in a world of space, time, decay, and chaotic, remorseless change.
Not only that, we have forgotten how, when, or why we chose this trap… but we have nonetheless senselessly bullied ourselves into a world of hurt. And as Gurdjieff suggested, we are often so identified with that world that we’ll fight to defend it.
Key to the solidity of the world of hurt, however, is the conviction that we did not choose to be here, and that we are the world’s hapless victims (some of us more than others). The Course gives no quarter in responding to the near-universal belief in victimization:
“It is your thoughts alone that cause you pain. Nothing external to your mind can hurt or injure you in any way. There is no cause beyond yourself that can reach down and bring oppression. No one but yourself affects you. There is nothing in the world that has the power to make you ill or sad, or weak or frail. But it is you who have the power to dominate all things you see by merely recognizing what you are. As you perceive the harmlessness in them, they will accept your holy will as theirs. And what was seen as fearful now becomes a source of innocence and holiness.” [from the text for Lesson 190]
What intrigues me about this passage is the suggestion that we can “dominate all things” not by bullying them, but by perceiving their harmlessness. That means forgiving everyone and everything that we tend to think is attacking or punishing us. And to do that, we have to withdraw the hurtful projections that we have placed on virtually everything.
And to do that, we must “merely recognize” what we are. Choosing “the joy of God” over our well-worn, habitual hurts is the beginning of that mere recognition. Great choice, if you can make it…
“Forgiveness offers everything I want.”
— Workbook Lesson 122, A Course in Miracles
I have experienced two fundamental ways of being in the world.Until I became chronically ill I lived the normal life of ego: looking out for No. 1, trying to preserve my habits and defend my fixed worldview, and making bargains with my fears in order to squeeze some enjoyment out of life. In this consciousness everything felt risky and there were few people I trusted. But I could always compare myself to someone less fortunate and feel like I was getting some of what I wanted.
After a seven-year health crisis that devastated my former sense of self, I found myself on a spiritual path. This meant I couldn’t focus on looking out for No. 1, because I wasn’t sure of who or what I was anymore (or even if an "I" exists at all!). It meant entering a never-ending discipline of surrendering my habits and enlarging my worldview in the light of new information and insights.
In a day-to-day sense, I don’t know if my spiritual way of life is any easier than my old ego-driven way. Sometimes it’s more demanding.
What has made the shift worthwhile is that my life makes sense to me now, and I feel consistently guided toward growth and service. In the old life I deeply doubted my worth and purpose, and secretly thought that I had too many unsolvable problems to be of real help to anyone.
The bridge from my old life to the new was forgiveness: the complete release of my pained idea of who I was. This is the most important work I have ever done on my own behalf. In retrospect I marvel at the victory I was earning during the time that I seemed to be suffering a total, grinding defeat.
In fact, I was astonished when I began to appreciate my defeats, downturns, and disappointments. The sooner they were forgiven — that is, the sooner I gave up looking at them in the same old way — the more quickly my misfortunes seemed to add to my strength, alertness, and responsibility. Gradually, experiences that I would have never wanted were transformed into unexpected gifts.
Forgiveness is the science of the heart: a discipline of discovering all the ways of being that will extend your love to the world, and discarding all the ways that do not. As forgiveness liberates your thinking, you may find yourself looking beyond the world-wearying drives of self-promotion and competition in order to get everything that you want.
Congratulations! Now you are consciously evolving, no longer running the treadmill of humanity’s favorite follies. Now you will be led by inspiration everywhere you are needed.
(This edition is adapted from The Forgiveness Book.)
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“God's will for me is perfect happiness.”
— Workbook Lesson 101, A Course in Miracles
I’ve known perfect happiness once in my life, under the most unexpected circumstances. About a year into my initial study of the Course, I was at the lowest point of a prolonged illness, where I would remain for some time. I was out of work, out of an intimate relationship, perpetually in pain from a vicious variety of bodily symptoms, and beset with the feeling of having failed at everything I’d attempted up to that point of my life.I’d also undertaken this strange spiritual discipline that I had told relatively few people about, because I wasn’t sure it was something I should admit to anyone. This discipline, this bulky and difficult “course in miracles” was either helping me heal or driving me steadily into an otherworldly insanity. In my often-foggy mental state, I couldn’t be sure which direction I was going.
Then one morning, after the usual troubled and unrefreshing sleep, I awoke unreasonably happy. This was utterly unexpected because there was obviously nothing to be happy about, besides the sardonic awareness that I had “nothing to lose.”
Over a few hours’ time, it dawned on me that this was exactly the reason. In my current circumstances, I could not possibly be any less attached to the world around me, yet still be alive and conscious. Quite without meaning to — and quite exhausted by struggling not to let go of everything that had ever mattered to me — I had actually let it all go.
I was not happy about losing that struggle. Yet there was a paradoxical result: I was sublimely happy about nothing at all.
Every other form of happiness I could remember had been connected to beneficial circumstances: being in love, succeeding at something I had planned to achieve, being high on endorphins from long-distance bicycling, or simply walking in nature. But this perfect happiness had arisen in utterly contradictory conditions. I felt physically wrecked, professionally ruined, and emotionally alone in a way I had never known. I was barely able to walk a few blocks to the grocery store and back, much less bike or hike anywhere.
The happiness I felt wasn’t changing those circumstances, nor did I think it would. Within that same day, the unprecedented joy subsided, and I was once again consumed with the battle to live in constant pain and somehow find my way forward in the world again. Yet that happiness awakened me to a different kind of reality, something I’d read about in the Course without really understanding it. This perfect and completely unconditional happiness was actually my home.
“Salvation comes from my one Self.”
— Workbook Lesson 96, A Course in Miracles
The instructions for this lesson include focusing on it for five minutes hourly (good luck with that) in this particular form: "Salvation comes from my one Self. Its thoughts are mine to use." Those words are to be followed by a period of searching the mind for the thoughts of our “one Self.”
In a recent application of this lesson, the first thought that came to my mind was “pure love.” There was a sense of quiet infinity behind these words. I realized that this kind of love was not a feeling of desire, affection, or positive regard for anyone or anything in particular. It was not even love for everyone or for the world at large, like the classic Greco-Christian notion of agape (universal love for God and humanity, the highest form of altruism).
Instead, this thought of love had nothing to do with the world around me whatsoever. The Course asserts that we find ourselves in this world because we turned away from the love of God (or thought we did, at any rate). Thus the “salvation” delivered by this kind of love has nothing to do with saving the world, or anyone’s life, or even our souls.
The salvation delivered by the pure love of our one Self is a healing memory of what we are and where we came from. It is the memory of the infinite, timeless, and unbelievably powerful silence of Oneness, for lack of a better term. That’s difficult to hold onto in an everyday world fractured by constant noise, the relentlessly ticking clock of time, and our chronic forgetfulness. (No doubt that’s why the Course urges us to look for our Self on an hourly basis!) However we managed to turn away from our “one Self,” getting back to it is a profound and demanding discipline — in part because we will inevitably try to bring that Self into this world, where it’s never going to fit.
On the other hand, the discipline is ultimately joyful, especially compared to all the worldly challenges we may pursue for the sake of less rewarding goals. We can train ourselves to become successful in business, war, or even romance, yet eventually find all of it unstable and unfulfilling — especially when its inevitable cancellation date comes due. Any degree of attachment we have to this temporary world of beauty and horror all mixed together is, at best, a faint echo of the love that we are. And when our attachments end, it not love but delusion that disappoints us.
As ACIM’s Text Introduction states: “The course does not aim at teaching the meaning of love, for that is beyond what can be taught. It does aim, however, at removing the blocks to the awareness of love's presence, which is your natural inheritance.”
As we ever-so-slowly remove our self-made blocks to the awareness of love, we will feel progressively less trapped in the world we made to oppose it. And from our growing freedom will arise healing thoughts & actions that can truly be called saving graces.
also by D. Patrick Miller:
“God goes with me wherever I go.”
— Workbook Lesson 41, A Course in Miracles
If a single suffering lies at the core of the “human condition,” it is loneliness.
This is the price we pay for a separate identity, which has a dense web of negative consequences: “Depression is an inevitable consequence of separation,” as the text for this lesson explains. “So are anxiety, worry, a deep sense of helplessness, misery, suffering and intense fear of loss.”
According to the Course, what we have separated from is our awareness of God. But who or what is this God? Is it an invisible super-daddy watching and judging us from on high, or a spectral presence hovering over our shoulder, or just a sentimentalized fantasy substitute for the perfect parents we never had? The God of the Course is a bit more difficult to grasp than any of these common projections.
You might call this God a whole & infinite consciousness that’s obscured by our partial & wounded self-awareness. One section of the Course repeats, in mantra-like form, the idea that “God is but love and therefore so am I.” This confronts us with the radical notion that we may have everything all wrong. Instead of existing as lonely individuals ceaselessly on the search for love, we are love itself.
In other words, we are actually the very consciousness of belonging, stability, care, and at-homeness for which we seek. But that whole & infinite awareness exists independently of our bodies, and even of the individual “mind” that seems to be carried around by the body.
Instead, that awareness is held by an incomprehensibly vast mind that we don’t contain or control, and is literally “not of this world.” That mind is God, and it’s admittedly difficult to imagine how such an infinite awareness can “go with us wherever we go.”
A valuable clue can be found in the Manual for Teachers, where ten characteristics of “teachers of God” are listed: Trust, Honesty, Tolerance, Gentleness, Joy, Defenselessness, Generosity, Patience, Faithfulness, and Open-Mindedness. If we wanted to define love by its components, these qualities would serve as well as any.
To the extent that we manifest these qualities, we are expressing the “love of God” that the Course assures us is our very nature. Exemplifying all these energies all the time — or even a few of them on a sustained basis — may seem like a tall order. Yet because love is our true nature, we actually need not strive or struggle to attain these characteristics — but we do have to stop forgetting that they are what we are.
Thus, when a moment of loneliness strikes, one way to answer it is to ask: "What situation or person (including myself) can I treat with greater trust... or honesty... or tolerance... or gentleness... or joy... or defenselessness... or generosity... or patience... or faithfulness... or open-mindedness?" This may provide a means of turning loneliness inside out, as it were, and finding new ways to know and extend the love that goes with us everywhere.
“I seek a future different from the past.”
— Workbook Lesson 314, A Course in Miracles
Here’s a lesson for addicts everywhere — and from the Course point of view, addicts are everywhere.
That’s because each of us is habituated to a false and shaky idea of our individuality and specialness. Whether we consider ourselves wonderfully special or awfully special really makes no difference. Holding on fiercely to any kind of specialness is what grinds us down and makes our past repeat itself.
We may find ourselves with a haunting depression, chronic illness, or recurring relationship dysfunction because we don’t get the connection between clinging to what we’ve always believed about ourselves — good, bad, or uncertain — and the repetition of negative ideas, energies, even physical symptoms.
To deal with the tension of clinging to all our ego-attachments, we may develop more obvious addictions to dangerous substances, unproductive behaviors, or destructive patterns of relationship. For a while these disorders will reinforce and intensify our “self-addiction,” although they have a deteriorating tendency that can eventually undo all our self-defenses.
This is the classic story of addicts who “bottom out.” It may seem that they’ve reached the end of the line with a drug or unhealthy relationship, when they’ve actually reached the end of the self they’ve always believed themselves to be. Hanging onto their specialness eventually undoes them, and the self they’ve long tried to be just isn’t sustainable.
Then arrives the time to “seek a future different from the past.” That means seeking a self that’s different as well — although strictly speaking, it actually means seeking less self than one has acted out in the past. It means learning to think, make decisions, and act on the basis of instincts that are not entirely self-serving.
For lack of a better term, we can call such instincts “divinely inspired” because they are rooted in a mystical source that’s beyond us, bigger than us, and altruistic by nature. And it is the gradual replacement of old, self-serving instincts with divine new ones that leads us into a different future that is genuinely free of an unproductive past.
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