A possible miracle in the bag

…unravel some type of relationship to a book…

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This is my first read of A Course In Miracles and I am about half way through the text- and the student book.

I have read quite a lot in my life, but what I like the best with ACIM is its way to somehow always be, just that one step ahead of you.

I say to myself I must be crazy or lost or confused and the next time I open the book it tells me exactly the same and what to do about it.

As much as it is a great experience to unravel some type of relationship to a book (if you can have that?) it also grounds me in the facts that we must all be so much more the same than I can ever imagine.

Something else it has established is that – before – when I used to be talking quite badly to myself for not doing this or that, or not keeping up  or not be as far ahead as I “planned”/”wanted”to – I am exactly where I am suppose to be – otherwise the book’s answer wouldn’t be so exact.

Often I leave the book open with the lesson I am on on my working desk – both as a gentle reminder, but also as a companion somehow. In the lack of other fellow ACIM people in my nearest circle the book itself has had to take on that role.

Days when I seem to be waking up running and never sitting down it happens I get as far as in the car, just to go back in again to pick it up and put it in my bag. Then it sits beside me on internet cafes, waiting rooms, waiting in traffic and so on.

I may never open it and just be checking in on it. You are ok down there? No pages squeezed? You could say there is some type of bonding with the possibility of a miracle, even when I have taken my hands off the hows, whens and wheres.

And so the day goes.

A little miracle is always possible.

337 signals coming home.

 

 

 

Sad strokes

Crying on the inside. Crying over the known. The unknown. The old and the new. And just tired in the now. And then…

Today is the first day, of a week of tests, that my oldest is doing to enter University. All set and she is looking at schools abroad. At the same time the next one is planning a life in Asia…and what am I doing?

Me and the dogs. I get this is the time when my creativity is to blossom and I will have all time in the world doing all those things I never could as a young adult, but what were those things?

All I can remember was that I wanted my own family [and not anything like the one I had]. An international life, speaking several languages, learn film, politics and business…

…but the sad strokes of the upcoming solitude are already hitting me. How much fun we have had. Crazy stupid messy situations, that has become funny memories now.

I think of my mother too. How much of all this she is missing, when she didn’t have to. How scared and sad she must have been. How few of the things she planned we never did. Conversations never had.

But before that we have one more year all together and then me and the little one have at least another 4-5 years to camp together and do more crazy, messy, funny things.

Feelings are friends Doreen Virtue says. I am like a very old bottle starting to crack up, with the liquid zippering slowly down its sides. Still feeling primarily blocked and locked in.

Crying on the inside. Crying over the known. The unknown. The old and the new. And just tired in the now. And then on the feet again doing all my little things, such as being the school drive, the consultant, the house made, the animal manager… I smile.

Life’s contradictions and sarcastic ironies. Maybe God does think we don’t have enough humour?

Cracks let the light in, so let the light be love and the love happiness.

Happy and sad – sappy – and grateful.

348 signals left to come home.

Image courtesy of rakratchada torsap at FreeDigitalPhotos.net