"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed." - Carl Jung
"Develop interest in life as you see it; in people, things, literature, music - the world is so rich, simply throbbing with rich treasures, beautiful souls and interesting people. Forget yourself." - Henry Miller
"I never saw an ugly thing in my life: for let the form of an object be what it may - light, shade, and perspective will always make it beautiful." - John Constable
Dear God,
It’s been nearly a year since I last wrote. I’ve begun to write letters, only to toss them aside. But, last night I finished reading a book that had some interesting ideas as to where you have been. The book said that on the seventh day, you rested, and that you haven’t yet woken up. You see God, I haven’t written you in a while, because I’ve been having a couple of issues here and there. I’ve been having a lot of issues finding something to believe in, and just when I start to lose faith in so many things, my life is again filled with so many things to renew my sense of, something. The other day, while I sat on the plane, I wrote this:
“If a memory is quite simply something upon itself, then exactly what is a dream? Lately I find it increasingly difficult to find something to believe in. What I seem to be knowing is that finding truth is often like getting a jagged little pill which isn’t only difficult to swallow, but once inside of you, hardly forgettable. It leaves me with the most bitter and unbearable after taste. The ‘what ifs’ of life have always plagued my mind. For a long time, I believed in those, until I realized the truth that ‘what ifs’ are absolutely pointless if you never have tomorrow. I find myself increasingly caring about ‘now’ in theory, although I never find myself manifesting within the present moment. It’s seldom able to capture me. I am the person forever existing in a day that doesn’t yet exist, somewhere else. Half of me is neither here nor there. Most of me wanders like a vagabond across a desert at night. The ground is baron, but it doesn’t matter, because in the desert I am able to exist in a pristine Milky Way which I cannot even reach, only dream and obsess about. Which is right, to accept the sand beneath my feet or to keep reaching for and following those stars?
Up until recently, I thought that at the very least, I could believe in my dreams. Apparitions that often gave me enough breath to continue running when I felt as though I might choke. Now, the truth dictates that this belief was also seriously flawed. My dreams are only an escape. They are the frame, not the picture. It’s still up to me to create something within it. Dreams are nothing but tools. Worthless unless you plan on doing something with them. A hammer will never become a house, but it can certainly help you build one. Dreams, although beautiful, are just my hammer. This thought, although a solid foundation for some, leaves me feeling somewhat ungrounded in spirit.
And then there is love. When I was a little girl, I had a parakeet. I was maybe 5 or 6 years old. It would chirp and fly around its cage or the house when we would let it out for a few hours. The bird was a good bird, it always returned to its cage. Never pooped where it wasn’t supposed to, never chirped while we slept. It would perch itself on my little finger and let me stroke its back, and would never bite. As wonderful as the small bird was, it would never let me pet the pelt feathers on its breast. These feathers looked the softest and plushest, but every time I tried, the bird would jump away. One day while the bird was out of the cage, it flew onto my finger. This time I made a firm grip around the bird’s body, for the first time, she pecked at my hand, probably because I was squeezing her too tight. Her reaction frightened me so I put her underneath my straw cowboy hat that sat on the floor nearby. Still frightened, I clasped my hands around the edges of the hat so the bird couldn’t get out. Then, I slightly sat on the hat, leaving only 3 or 4 inches between my bottom and the ground. I felt the bird stop struggling. At that moment, I was struck by a different kind of fear. I quickly lifted the hat and the bird lay unmoving. Immediately, I knew that whatever made the bird stop moving, was my fault. I called my dad, panicking…screaming…crying. I was afraid I would get in trouble, so I lied. I told Dad that the bird had crawled into a crevice in the big blanket that was lying nearby. When I lifted the blanket, the bird wasn’t moving. My dad gently explained that the bird didn’t have enough air and died. I had my first lesson in death and bad love at the same time. I’ve begun to realize that the truth in love, to a small degree, lies in the story of that little bird. Love is imperfection, acceptance, recognition of fear, the ability to be gentle and the ability to practice tolerance and understanding. Just because someone doesn’t show you love the way you want them to, doesn’t give you the right to squish them, even if it is an accident, inadvertently you may lose something very special.
Oh then there’s the proverbial ‘believe in yourself.’ I believe in my ability to mold clay, even if it’s already hardened. I believe in the notion that only you can ‘make it yours.’ But the belief that I’m trying to understand is that which gives you hope. That light you find yourself following when you thought you were surrounded by darkness. It’s easy to believe in yourself, but you cannot lead yourself, only others. Life is not about the dog chasing it’s tail. If you are stuck in a cave, what inspires you to get out? That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
So God, I don’t know whether you are asleep or awake. I don’t yet even know who or what you are. Despite the fact that I write these letters, I have yet to decide on whether or not I believe in you. All I know is that I believe in something, and since the term “God” makes sense, I’ll just keep using it. If there’s been some confusion on my part, I’m sure you’ll let me know if you’re really out there, which I sometimes think you are. Today, I stumbled upon this, it really sums my thinking up so neatly, weaving my love of physics and Richard Bach’s “One” into a perfect package topped with a perfect ribbon. If this is a “sign” from you, thank you. If it was simply my own discovery within a chaotic box, I knew that I could find something to grasp. I do believe that covers everything for now, well at least until later.
CREATE, by Norm Taylor
Learn of your freedom to create through doing it. Follow all your "natural" urges with enthusiasm and expectations of success. Let the flowing energy of that urge lead you into new dimensions of self and joy.
Changing patterns of belief is your nature -- forever experimenting with patterns and flavorings of belief. Your mission is to BE -- your adversary, your fear. This conquest is ongoing, and will never be completely won.
But universes of your seeding will blossom wherever you have been, and vast organizations of abundant energy will have mighty directions -- as you grow. This journey of self-discovery is "really" all there is. This is why you were created and why you can create as well.
Let your vigor be felt in your pursuit of that freedom you desire -- for your energy is much like the wind: its form and nature may not be observed except indirectly, in those things it touches and brings movement to.
You ARE pure energy, and light is more your own "kind" than coarser vibrations of the physical world you see; yet the perceptual mold is open-ended for you and your creations.
There are no closed systems of belief -- all patterns are open-ended, and all harmonize the integrity of the whole self you are and all-ways have been. New beginnings are your "stock-in-trade" in a universe in a state of becoming, and a world full of changes every moment.
Ideas become things. Your own ideas DO effect changes in all dimensions of actuality that are constantly going onward in their own directions as well. Your total being is a perfect compliment to the "other" individuals you meet, and offers fulfillments to parts of their values as well.
Fear not your growth and jubilant dancing with your feelings. These dimensions are on THIS lifetime's agenda. Let that be. Trust that part of your source which brings you to each moment; for your meanings would be lost among your own creations, without the complete integrity of YOUR being AND your source.
Have you not journeyed far up to this point? Go with the flow of your existence.
