Today's lesson, Lesson 92 from A Course in Miracles, states: "Miracles are seen in light, and light and strength are one." I want to remind you that we covered this lesson, along with Lesson 91, last year when we focused on "miracles." This lesson is relevant again in our current yearlong discussion on "vision."
This lesson highlights that the human body limits our divine strength. It sets up a logical sequence, clarifying that the body is not evil. The real culprit in the human psyche is the malicious ego, which seduces us into choosing weakness over strength. The body is the avenue through which the ego operates. Early in the lesson, A Course in Miracles argues that we believe wearing glasses significantly enhances our vision.
And then it suggests that the entire concept is merely an exercise in weakness. Both the eyes and the glasses are perceived as weak; they lack true substance. It's likened to a dream or a nightmare, a recurring theme I often find myself revisiting. We may harbor illusions of power through such actions. However, the lesson underscores that true power lies in fully awakening from the constraints of the body and its perceived actions. It draws a parallel with our thoughts, noting that attributing them solely to the brain is a profound misconception. In reality, our thoughts emanate from the divine within us, a wellspring of true strength. By confining our understanding to the limitations of the body, we inadvertently diminish our potential. These are indeed potent ideas worth contemplating.
Once again, it refrains from demonizing the body, emphasizing that the body itself is not inherently evil. Instead, it's likened to a garment that accompanies us during our time in this physical existence. However, the most profound perspective is to view it as something we eventually set aside once our journey concludes. It's akin to neatly folding a cherished sweater and storing it away—it has fulfilled its purpose. This gentle analogy extends to the notion of letting go of the body upon death, suggesting a broader interpretation encompassing the entirety of the human experience.
The entirety of A Course in Miracles, and in certain sections, delves as far back as the Big Bang. It explores the emergence of the physical realm as a counterpart to the spiritual realm where we initially resided. This perspective places the fall from the Garden of Eden within the context of transitioning into materiality. While various Gnostic traditions and scholars have extensively examined this concept, at its core, it's a simple narrative of choosing to depart from perfection, akin to the prodigal son story. Initially dwelling in a state of perfection, we ventured away from it for various reasons, only to awaken to the realization that we were no longer in that state. The essence of the Miracle Mindset lies in reclaiming our original perfection. Specific addictions, such as those to sex, money, drugs, food, or fame, are merely obsessive manifestations of prioritizing the body's desires. However, they are all part of the larger narrative of a fall from grace.
In paragraph 4, the discussion of the dichotomy between strength and weakness caught my attention. It's been on my mind since I began preparing for this. The passage states that weakness is revered as an idol, leading to the dispersion of strength and the reign of darkness in places where light should prevail. The crucial words here highlight the weakness inherent in the body and its disconnect from our spiritual essence, God, and our inner guidance system. This choice to embrace weakness is likened to worshipping an idol—a mere object devoid of significance. We mistakenly hold it in reverence, driven by the desire to diminish our own strength. It's a profound misunderstanding of the natural order, leading us to mistakenly perceive value in weakness. This notion of idolizing weakness warrants further exploration and discussion.
So, in some respects, without assigning blame to the victim, the intricate web of human suffering often stems from both individual and collective tendencies to venerate the idols of weakness and pain. This notion carries profound implications worth exploring. Let me offer an application and then I'd like to hear your thoughts on it.
In fields such as psychotherapy, counseling, or coaching—areas that aim to assist individuals—the concept elucidated by the course finds practical relevance. It suggests that both the helper and the person seeking guidance, consciously or subconsciously, harbor a propensity towards weakness. Consider a scenario where a client faces imminent legal trouble, a situation seemingly catastrophic. In my coaching practice, if such a client seeks guidance towards transitioning from a state of nightmares to one of miracles, it prompts reflection. It indicates a deeper, perhaps subconscious, inclination towards embracing suffering—an allegiance to the false deity of weakness and pain. Consequently, my role as a coach involves gradually guiding them away from this mindset. Otherwise, any progress made would merely address surface symptoms.
There's a significant issue with victim mentality prevalent in our society, especially evident in social media comments. It seems everyone is quick to take offense and align themselves with the perceived weaker side, often championing the cause of the oppressed. This trend is strikingly pronounced nowadays, particularly when trivial, first-world problems are elevated to significant concerns.
On a more serious note, consider the fascination with true crime documentaries depicting criminals eagerly anticipating their capture, meticulously planning their appearances for paparazzi shoots. It's intriguing yet unsettling. Some individuals may not even realize their subconscious desire to identify with the oppressed, willingly embracing their plight. They may express sentiments like, "I'm prepared to go to prison; I’ll be famous or like a celebrity! It'll be an adventure." Such attitudes can be described as nothing short of sheer folly.
Again, it's crucial to clarify that we're not assigning blame to victims. Whether someone has endured a carjacking, sexual assault, or the horrors of war, it's not our place to suggest they somehow deserve it or are at fault. Instead, the focus is on utilizing the model we're discussing as a means to expedite recovery from such traumatic experiences. Both collectively and individually, there's often a tendency to gravitate towards the morbid, the painful, the weak, and the suffering in a broad sense. Acknowledging this inclination prompts us to shift our focus towards the strength of the divine, allowing it to guide us out of the depths of despair.
You know, when it comes to my alpha clients, I have immense respect and admiration for each of them. However, there's a recurring theme that emerges—the delicate balance between assuming the role of a messiah, a savior, and that of a martyr. Just being a martyr adds another layer to our discussion. It entails believing oneself to be strong and resilient enough to shoulder the suffering of others without being affected by it. It's all too easy to fall into the allure of this mindset, thinking, "I'm tough enough to handle anything." But ultimately, it leads to a path where one might find themselves bearing unbearable burdens, akin to being crucified. And that's not a journey anyone would willingly choose.
Let's delve deeper into these psychological, practical, and spiritual dimensions. These are just practical applications, offering our audience the opportunity for introspection. Consider whether you find yourself susceptible to any of these tendencies and then consciously release them. You don't need to assume the roles of savior or martyr in your own strength; instead, you can rely on the strength of the divine.
A tangible practice to implement involves dedicating two 20-minute sessions each day—one in the morning and one in the evening—to connect with your inner divine strength. This connection serves to dispel weakness and prevents erroneous choices that lead to suffering and pain. It's akin to the prodigal son returning home to a place of genuine power.
I often emphasize that the divine plan surpasses anything we could conceive on our own. Despite our vision boards, affirmations, and meticulously laid plans, we acknowledge the mantra: "This or something better." By leaving room for the divine to orchestrate outcomes beyond our imagination, we open ourselves to extraordinary possibilities.
Now, let's discuss the practice—a 20-minute meditation session aimed at fostering a connection between our higher and lower selves. This practice encourages our lower self to align with the strength and wisdom of our higher self. It differs from the exercises in Lesson 91, where the focus was on affirmations emphasizing divine strength. In this longer meditation, we immerse ourselves in the language of empowerment, leaning towards expressions of strength and limitlessness.
I personally make a conscious effort to shield myself against the ego's tricks and allure by anchoring myself in the lesson at hand—this one specifically: "God is the strength in which I trust." It's a mantra I repeat from the moment I wake up until I go to sleep each day. "God is the strength in which I trust." It serves as a kind of background protection against the various negative influences, akin to a firewall blocking malicious software on a computer.
Expanding on your point, there are indeed severe consequences when we allow ourselves to dwell in negative emotions. It can wreak havoc on our lives. When faced with such destruction, it's essential to reflect on how long we harbored grudges or fixated on insignificant incidents, like someone cutting us off on the freeway. Some individuals spend weeks ruminating over such trivial matters.
Through these practices in miracle mindset, we work toward transcending negative circumstances, waking up from our nightmares - individually and collectively - and creating space for abundant health, wealth, love, and enlightenment.
