"You cannot find someone, even if they deserve it, as your enemy and stay Connected with who you are at the same time, because your Source will not take sides like that. No one can stay connected to Source Energy, and push hard against someone else. "
Abraham
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Song of the Soul
"Love is all you need" state the lyrics of an immensely popular song. "God is love," say some, and others "God is all there is." Ergo, Love is all there is? I think not. It may be that God is love, but God is not limited to love.
A moving mantram I was introduced to many years ago has illustrated this for me - I think of it as the song of the soul:
"I am the soul.
I am the light divine.
I am love. I am will.
I am planned design."
To these words, which have sung me through the most challenging experiences of my life, I have added my own understanding:
I am the soul.
I am forgiveness and health.
I am peace, harmony
and abundant wealth.
Over the years, whenever I have been assailed by fears, doubts, or circumstances which appeared to threaten me, I have chanted these words like a mantram of pure being. Over time they took on a melodic shape, and I began to sing them. They began to sing themselves like a background music while I engaged in my daily routines and activities, a constant and comforting reminder of my connection with divinity. At some point a second voice arose in my inner ear, singing the same words in an inspiring dance of harmony and counterpoint.
In my experience, the power of this mantram, and the power of chanting this mantram, has been great. I remember a particularly significant occasion when I felt this power. I had driven to the Yukon with my eleven year old daughter, to attend a healing retreat. Because there was no accommodation in the area, I had prepared for our stay in this remote location by bringing along a tent, sleeping bags, and camping gear. When we arrived at the site, I was told that I could set up my tent wherever I liked. The environment was quite informal. I remember a couple watching bears on the hillside across from us, with a pair of binoculars, while someone else was explaining what it was like to live in the Yukon.
Down a hill from where the main building was located, I could see a lake. That pristine natural setting appealed to me, and so I drove down to check it out. Finding a level open area near the water's edge, I set up camp. My daughter helped me pitch the tent, and unroll our sleeping gear. Before we retired, we were joined in that location by a couple who had a camper on the back of their truck. After congratulating ourselves on having found such a perfect spot to camp, we all retired to our respective sleeping quarters.
Night gloamed softly around us. Because this was the Yukon, at the end of July, there was no significant darkness. As tired as I was from the long drive up the Alaska Highway however, I did not fall instantly into sleep, but lay peacefully in a double sleeping bag, sharing a peaceful reverie with my child snuggling in my arms. This reverie was broken unexpectedly by the sound of someone approaching. I heard a stick snapping, and the muffled sounds of movement and heavy breathing. As these perceptions coalesced in my consciousness, I realized that we were being visited by a bear.
The fragility of our shelter under the circumstances might have caused me to laugh, had I not been instinctively reacting with terror. My own fear was quickly set aside though, as I responded the the fear of my daughter, who was burrowing into me as if I were a rabbit hole. The volume was suddenly turned up on the mantram which had been chanting softly in the back of my consciousness: "I am the soul." The awareness of that truth was in that moment my own rabbit hole. "I am the light divine." I intuitively extended that light outward to create a bubble which enclosed the tent - a perfect dome of light to protect us; to reinforce the flimsy nylon which was all that otherwise separated us from an obviously large Yukon bear.
Throughout the night I chanted the mantram of my connection with my divine nature, while holding the image of light surrounding my tent. In my arms, my daughter now slept peacefully. Outside I could hear the bear's whuffling and padding as he circled the tent, occasionally moving away, but shortly returning. With the sense of danger enhancing my perceptions, I sang my song in harmony with the whuffling and padding, the occasional snapping of small sticks on the ground, the lapping of the lake water against the shore, the night calls of the birds and other occasional sounds I could not interpret. I heard the closing of a door somewhere, the scraping of metal, and the muffled sounds of human voices.
As the light of Yukon night grew almost imperceptively toward the light of day, the sounds of the bear diminished, and I was able at last to relax and drift into a few minutes of rest. This rest seemed almost immediately to be interrupted by alarmed voices of people outside my tent, querying my well-being. I emerged from the tent to a strange reality. The grass around my tent was beaten down into a brown path which completely circled my shelter. The sidewall of my fellow campers' RV was scored with deep scratches in the metal cladding. They described to me how the bear had "attacked" their camper, while inside they were shouting at it to leave. Enclosed in their metal walls, they were in no personal danger, but they had been extremely fearful for my daughter and me, in our little nylon dome tent.
No one could believe that the tent stood untouched, especially with the obvious evidence of the bear having repeatedly circled it. As I explained how I had held the dome of light above the tent, with the bear plodding in its circle around me, and my daughter sleeping in my arms, I could sense the perception of "reality" bending and breaking in the minds of those listening to me, especially the two who had been inside their camper throughout this experience.
The owner of the property eventually came down and explained that this flat, open area we had chosen was actually the place where many of the local wildlife came down to drink from the lake. He generously offered to accommodate my daughter and me in his bunkhouse just up the hill. Then he, like the others, turned his attention to the tracks the bear had carved into the metal cladding of the camper, expressing awe and amazement at the apparent determination of the animal to gain access to this essentially impenetrable structure. I turned back to my flimsy yet untouched tent and began the task of moving my bedding to the bunkhouse, where I looked forward gratefully to enjoying some uninterrupted sleep. In the back of my mind, my mantram sang on, sparkling with its facets of potential power, the simple precepts of truth that I had internalized in faith and trust so long ago.
At some metaphysical level of understanding, it may be that love, light, will and law or "planned design" are all the same essential Truth, but I know that all of the facets, all of the aspects, are essential to the integrity of the whole, and Love is one of the aspects. Love is an essential element of all-that-is, but love is not all there is. I have deep gratitude for the resources with which this mantram provided me, enabling me to face the challenge of the bear. I have this gratitude also for those who chose to proliferate this mantram, even though I can no longer remember the source. The mantram has become an integral part of me, and connects me with that source, both on the individualized level, and on the metaphysical level. I am thankful.
A moving mantram I was introduced to many years ago has illustrated this for me - I think of it as the song of the soul:
"I am the soul.
I am the light divine.
I am love. I am will.
I am planned design."
To these words, which have sung me through the most challenging experiences of my life, I have added my own understanding:
I am the soul.
I am forgiveness and health.
I am peace, harmony
and abundant wealth.
Over the years, whenever I have been assailed by fears, doubts, or circumstances which appeared to threaten me, I have chanted these words like a mantram of pure being. Over time they took on a melodic shape, and I began to sing them. They began to sing themselves like a background music while I engaged in my daily routines and activities, a constant and comforting reminder of my connection with divinity. At some point a second voice arose in my inner ear, singing the same words in an inspiring dance of harmony and counterpoint.
In my experience, the power of this mantram, and the power of chanting this mantram, has been great. I remember a particularly significant occasion when I felt this power. I had driven to the Yukon with my eleven year old daughter, to attend a healing retreat. Because there was no accommodation in the area, I had prepared for our stay in this remote location by bringing along a tent, sleeping bags, and camping gear. When we arrived at the site, I was told that I could set up my tent wherever I liked. The environment was quite informal. I remember a couple watching bears on the hillside across from us, with a pair of binoculars, while someone else was explaining what it was like to live in the Yukon.
Down a hill from where the main building was located, I could see a lake. That pristine natural setting appealed to me, and so I drove down to check it out. Finding a level open area near the water's edge, I set up camp. My daughter helped me pitch the tent, and unroll our sleeping gear. Before we retired, we were joined in that location by a couple who had a camper on the back of their truck. After congratulating ourselves on having found such a perfect spot to camp, we all retired to our respective sleeping quarters.
Night gloamed softly around us. Because this was the Yukon, at the end of July, there was no significant darkness. As tired as I was from the long drive up the Alaska Highway however, I did not fall instantly into sleep, but lay peacefully in a double sleeping bag, sharing a peaceful reverie with my child snuggling in my arms. This reverie was broken unexpectedly by the sound of someone approaching. I heard a stick snapping, and the muffled sounds of movement and heavy breathing. As these perceptions coalesced in my consciousness, I realized that we were being visited by a bear.
The fragility of our shelter under the circumstances might have caused me to laugh, had I not been instinctively reacting with terror. My own fear was quickly set aside though, as I responded the the fear of my daughter, who was burrowing into me as if I were a rabbit hole. The volume was suddenly turned up on the mantram which had been chanting softly in the back of my consciousness: "I am the soul." The awareness of that truth was in that moment my own rabbit hole. "I am the light divine." I intuitively extended that light outward to create a bubble which enclosed the tent - a perfect dome of light to protect us; to reinforce the flimsy nylon which was all that otherwise separated us from an obviously large Yukon bear.
Throughout the night I chanted the mantram of my connection with my divine nature, while holding the image of light surrounding my tent. In my arms, my daughter now slept peacefully. Outside I could hear the bear's whuffling and padding as he circled the tent, occasionally moving away, but shortly returning. With the sense of danger enhancing my perceptions, I sang my song in harmony with the whuffling and padding, the occasional snapping of small sticks on the ground, the lapping of the lake water against the shore, the night calls of the birds and other occasional sounds I could not interpret. I heard the closing of a door somewhere, the scraping of metal, and the muffled sounds of human voices.
As the light of Yukon night grew almost imperceptively toward the light of day, the sounds of the bear diminished, and I was able at last to relax and drift into a few minutes of rest. This rest seemed almost immediately to be interrupted by alarmed voices of people outside my tent, querying my well-being. I emerged from the tent to a strange reality. The grass around my tent was beaten down into a brown path which completely circled my shelter. The sidewall of my fellow campers' RV was scored with deep scratches in the metal cladding. They described to me how the bear had "attacked" their camper, while inside they were shouting at it to leave. Enclosed in their metal walls, they were in no personal danger, but they had been extremely fearful for my daughter and me, in our little nylon dome tent.
No one could believe that the tent stood untouched, especially with the obvious evidence of the bear having repeatedly circled it. As I explained how I had held the dome of light above the tent, with the bear plodding in its circle around me, and my daughter sleeping in my arms, I could sense the perception of "reality" bending and breaking in the minds of those listening to me, especially the two who had been inside their camper throughout this experience.
The owner of the property eventually came down and explained that this flat, open area we had chosen was actually the place where many of the local wildlife came down to drink from the lake. He generously offered to accommodate my daughter and me in his bunkhouse just up the hill. Then he, like the others, turned his attention to the tracks the bear had carved into the metal cladding of the camper, expressing awe and amazement at the apparent determination of the animal to gain access to this essentially impenetrable structure. I turned back to my flimsy yet untouched tent and began the task of moving my bedding to the bunkhouse, where I looked forward gratefully to enjoying some uninterrupted sleep. In the back of my mind, my mantram sang on, sparkling with its facets of potential power, the simple precepts of truth that I had internalized in faith and trust so long ago.
At some metaphysical level of understanding, it may be that love, light, will and law or "planned design" are all the same essential Truth, but I know that all of the facets, all of the aspects, are essential to the integrity of the whole, and Love is one of the aspects. Love is an essential element of all-that-is, but love is not all there is. I have deep gratitude for the resources with which this mantram provided me, enabling me to face the challenge of the bear. I have this gratitude also for those who chose to proliferate this mantram, even though I can no longer remember the source. The mantram has become an integral part of me, and connects me with that source, both on the individualized level, and on the metaphysical level. I am thankful.
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