Where is My Good?
Where, when and how is My ultimate Good manifesting into
the tangible here-and-now mystery called my finite experience? I struggle with my largely futile attempts to grasp the mystery
of this process, but only now and then do I glimpse its profound power and pristine beauty. In those precious moments I begin
to see and appreciate the fact that God is that process and that somehow I have attracted and drawn that experience to myself
in all of its strangeness and misery for my own awakening and growth.
All of my notions of what my Good should be are shaken to the
core when they do not match what I think is happening and should be happening. My vision is born again when I ask what these
events really mean. The potential godliness of each present moment is not seen until I let go of judging it according to any
of my preconceived expectations and standards. My so-called security and control mechanisms are constantly being revised and
updated because they do not free me to realize and know the Great Plan, the ultimate composite will of God and my True Self.
Every single moment of my daily experience is then known to
be exactly what I needed, my Ultimate Good, in whose strange package lies my peace and joy. That is what "I have plans!" really
means. My plan is to become increasingly aware of the Great Plan and the Great Presence as it is wrapped in and manifested
through the daily finite forms of my experience. The Great Spirit is always flowing through me, as twisted as it may appear
to me within my story.
- God’s Story is unfolding within my own frustrating belief system, in all of the confusing opinions and contradictory
mis-imaginations that I have created. Each of those twisted narratives has its own ultimate meaning which I must become aware
of, if I would unravel the symptoms and suffering that I am living. Each so-called "stress’ in my life is merely my
mis-judgment of God’s gifts and of God Himself in those gifts. Waiting and searching for God and for my ultimate good,
as though it could exist in some nebulous there and then time and place, is futile. There is no such time and place except
right here and now. I am in paradise, although it is clothed in the tattered garments of my mis-judged experience. Suddenly
I come to an opening in this human forest and I can look out and see for miles and miles from this mountain top on which I
unknowingly live. Paradise is hidden in the drama and props of my daily experience.
Samuel Becket’s Waiting for Godot is a parody about
our stupid, stumbling conversations while we are waiting for the arrival of Godot (our Good)
This play is a repetition of circular motions, echoes, actions,
and gestures which moves within a prescribed circumference, the Cartesian circle seeking a reference point outside itself,
…but Waiting for Godot has a structure which never defines a larger circle outside of the simple factual
assertions and haunting epistemic questions which it makes. There are also many cycles and vicious circles in our ego story
which never break out into the reality of Godot. The ego never looks within the symbols of its own story, but is always
looking outside for Godot, who never seems to come.
God’s ministers have come to waken him from
the dark dreams this story has evoked in his confused, bewildered memory of this distorted tale. God’s Son can smile
at last, on learning that it is not true.
A Course in Miracles
Let us seek until we find:
the good hidden in our evil
the healing disguised in our pain
the light enfolded in our darkness
the potential mistaken for our emptiness
the unity inherent in our dividedness
the security underneath our insecurity
the blessing given in our adversity
the peace within our stress
the answer concealed in our questions
the strength ignored in our weakness
the genius masked in our stupidity
the freedom overlooked in our bondage
the joy implicit in our sorrow
the truth underlying our illusions and lies
the extraordinary possibilities in the ordinary
the courage denied in our fear
the riches unnoticed in our poverty
the love overwhelmed by our jealousy
the order within our chaos
the medicine signaled by our symptoms
the purpose arising out of our accidents and losses
the meaning lost in our tragedies
the sanity encased in our insanity
the aliveness erupting out of the death of God
the spirit symbolized in matter
the still small voice not heard in our noisiness
the infinity obscured in our finiteness
the divinity prohibited in our human unawareness
The Wolf at the Door is just a nightmare. Go into
that door of your imagination and look around. Look carefully, deeply. The image of fear will disappear and in its place you
will find the truth.
