Life has purpose. That is, purpose beyond the struggle to amass resources, collect memories, friends, family and acquaintances, while keeping the body and mind clean and marginally functional. Though these appear as the fundamental undertakings in themselves—the primary thrust for getting out of bed for all too many; at some point we come to wonder if sheer survivalism in concert with the occasional thrill and its inevitable fall from grace represents an acceptable purpose for living. Is this truly our basis for being here? For being?
Within the rare and quiet moments not spent performing this ritualistic dance of survival, in some haphazard and scrabbling manner, we dig into the deeper questions of existence. You know the ones. "Who am I? What am I? Where am I? Why am I here? What am I supposed to be doing? What the heck is going on?"
Once posed, despite the mesmerizing glory and gore of life, we reveal these irritating vexes to be buried within us like viscious piercing barbs; gnawing, tearing; vying for our attention no matter the endless distractions we heap upon ourselves. Ultimately, no amount of numbing, no feigned ignorance, no plugging one's ears and humming loudly over, and no stretch of time can muzzle this ever-present, underlying discontent. Even when death approaches, shrouded in dark swirling murk, exuding the awesome power borne of frigid nerve, questions arise still, "What? What is all this? What have I done?"
A little dramatic, what?
But that's life. Drama—reason sufficient to stick with all of the, "sham and drudgery," "the sea of troubles," "the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to," on and on; blah, blah, blah; noble causing and effecting, ad needoftumseum.
Christ says, "...any of you who does not give up everything he has cannot be my disciple." The Buddha declares,"Sunyata. Insight into emptiness leads to inner peace. You need not suffer." Lao-tzu claims, "Free from desire, you realize the mystery." Seems the girth of wisdom that sang before us hearkens back to help us consider, as opposed to endlessly filling our box, what of emptying it? What of making room at the inn? Would a guest more useful, more promising than fear, hate, anger, need, despair or apathy take up residence? What about peace? Is love all you need?
In my personal groping for answers, over many a day, month, year, and decade, I pushed a load of words around. Most were held captive among thousands of pages of print while others tumbled willy, nilly from the end of a cheap ballpoint pen. Words and more words. Volumes. Libraries. Tomes. Until I ran, faith-first, into A Course In Miracles. Actually, and as it happens with most, the Course ran into me.
I picked it up . . . and . . . I set it down, repeating this senseless
pattern for the better part of four years. Then I attended classes.
Then I actually read it. And when I read, "Eventually everyone
begins to recognize, however dimly, that there must be a better way,"
I was hooked. The perfect mix of fatalism and hope. An emptying.
The Course soon clarified who I am, what I am, where I am, why I am here, what I am supposed to be doing and what the heck is going on. No stone unturned. Handy. It revealed that the peace of God is my only goal and that the manner of approach was the removal of blocks to the awareness of love's presence. Presence. Present. Here. Now. No mountains. No caves. No fire walking. No begging. No pleading. No sin-ridden petitioning.
The Course recognized me as innocent, imploring me to do the same for myself. I live not in sin. Merely in error. The error of judgment; of seeing myself as alone, casting myself adrift amidst fearsome fantasies and the constant fear of death, of disillusion. In truth, I only dreamed, or rather, mis-dreamed, of falling from the heart of a loving God. To return? Should I teach peace, I would learn it. Should I teach love, I would have it. Should I speak only for God, what else, then, could I see?
Most days I speak of anything but God. Yet, now, I always intend to. Willingness. It's a start. And such is the thrust of this small web offering. Though originally shared only amidst friends and fellow Course student/teachers, Holy Spirit has compelled me to hide no more, for all minds are shared. To privatize is but to suffer whilst comfort abounds. Silly.
From one perspective, amidst these pages, you'll unearth no perfection here. From another perspective, however, there exists nothing else.
Be in touch. For this . . . is life's purpose.