Enduring

Still here.

The world did not end on 12/21/12. Nor on 12/22/12.

It did not end.

Still here.

A mixed blessing, perhaps. Now I must do all that I had projected to do, attempting to follow His guidance along the way, being willing to dodge and shift with His direction, serving in a world not my own.

A world my own. How I wish I really knew what that meant. It is said that such a world is indescribable, hence no picture of it can be made or shared. Thus, from here, such a world has little meaning; that is, little incentive. I can only imagine this world as not being painful or demanding. Then again, should I choose peace at every instant, irregardless of circumstance, indeed, the world is neither painful nor demanding. I recognize this as the final truth. But am I a blinded smiling idiot, to stand amidst the squall with a subtle smile upon my face? Am I to maintain a simpleton countenance as the world crumbles around me? Surely this is not the impression I am to get from the Course axiom, “Would you rather be right or would you rather be happy?”

eruption.jpgTo be anything but peaceful, though, is to welcome suffering. It is one thing to endure suffering for the sake of realizing its reciprocate. It is another thing to suffer blindly. It is another thing, still, to suffer and act as though it is a satisfying experience. The doofus smile of peace while being wrenched and wrung simply impresses me as being little more than dumb.

This, yet, I know it must be true. It is the middle way. To shriek and moan during the deluge is to invite darkness. To find exhilaration in the same is to rejoice in disaster. The middle way finds a detached peace; deluge, darkness or disaster – making, perhaps, or as the Course saw states, making these verbose events as false in the mind as they are in the world.

This must be the upcoming year for me. There is much that has befallen me. This includes many blessings as well. Mostly blessings, as I dwell upon of it. And as the world I imagine shifts under a long-warranted sea change, I must stay with my peace. For it is my purpose to give this peace away at every instant, at every turn. If I am to have it, I must share. And I cannot share what I do not have.

Yet, I do have it. Peace is my base. It is my foundation. It is the well from which I’m sprung. It is the fountainhead whose waters spill over to flood and cleanse darkness from the heart of the world.

Though I toil in a garden and wrestle in a shop, though I tussle with an often errant child, both myself and my son, and the whole of this jagged world threatens to cut and bruise, when the upheavals break from out of the barren, heaving ground, I will see in them the wonder, the sustenance . . . peace. And I will hand it over gladly knowing the more I give, the more will appear, despite its form or flavor.

Thank you Holy Spirit,
For not abandoning me,
In my darkened hour.

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~ by a.b.johnson on 12/30/2012.

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