Remember the story of Adam and Eve being cast out of the Garden? Breaking news. We are all living as exiles from Paradise. No exceptions.
I woke up this morning feeling that deep sense of exile. The closer the holiday celebrating the birth of Jesus gets, the bluer I feel. It is a farce beyond belief. Why? Because society is a farce and the gullible buy into it.
It starts so early that no one has a chance of seeing through their actual condition.
Some of us feel the exile while others have suppressed it. And with great cost, always with great cost. Alcoholism, drug addition, phobia, manias, murder, theft. Yada yada yada.
We are exiles from love and we don’t know why or how or when.
I write this because I know it to be true.
That is the situation. Is there a solution that is true? Because I have tried all of the fake ones.
The answer is yes but I don’t know what it is.
This is where faith comes into the picture.
This is the seed of salvation from the lies.
It is going to take a long time to return to the garden and you do it in only one way.
By seeing through the lies of the ego.
Grace begins to stream in through the windows of the prison. Just this KNOWING you are in prison is what starts the return of the light.
You are loved. You are love itself. But you cannot and must not try to convince anyone else.
It is up to each one of us to break the code.
Vicki Woodyard
I will be meditating on that first paragraph for a long time. Never heard the idea stated that plainly.
I wrote it because that is how I felt this morning. And if I put down how I feel, it is how everyone else feels, too. Why? Because our
feelings never lie.
Thank you for reminding us that we cannot try to convince anyone else (even those we love and who are suffering greatly,) as to the fact (or at least to the possibility,) that he/she IS loved is love itself. As a mom, I still want to kiss the toes and hug away all boo-boos, even though the suffering one is long past that time period. At 19, the son’s lessons must come, as they always have, from Life/Living Itself. Being of crone age, stone age, I sit and don’t move to brush away the tears, even mine. Yea, right.
We all know this; we just forget again and again.