“We teach what we need to learn the most.” – – Richard Bach from “Illusions”

My urge to write has a will of its own. More specifically, I was doing some reading just a minute ago, albeit of the inspirational variety, and all of a sudden I’m sitting at my keyboard. I’m hesitant to quote my Source. I am equally hesitant to say out loud that I feel lately as though I’m being “guided” to send out a message regularly, one that may benefit not only myself in helping me to vent and clear my own slate, but also to possibly benefit others who may be looking for a viewpoint to relate to. It seems to me that the job of healing others through words, as lofty as my perception of such a vocation or avocation may be, is to be reserved for someone more “accomplished” in the world, or someone who has demonstrated at least a striving toward the position of a spiritual leader. It challenges my lifelong, likely worn-out notion that only people like Eckhart Tolle, or the Dalai Lama or Marianne Williamson are to be charged with such responsibility. And then I’ll remember being floored by the spiritual insight of someone with one day of sobriety in AA. That type of thing happens to me often. We are all One. Aren’t we?

I’m hardly a bible scholar but if I remember correctly, old testament or even new testament prophets were rarely if ever painted as perfect. New testament Paul prosecuted Christians before his conversion. The old testament deliverer of the Jews from Egypt (I sometimes forget if it was Moses or Charlton Heston before he joined the NRA) killed a guy with his bare hands. More recently, Neale Donald Walsh wrote a series of books detailing his Conversations With God. Throughout his writing, Walsh points out repeatedly how he’s an ordinary Joe, a not so long ago homeless, several times divorced, failed this and that regular human like the rest of us. One of the benefits of the ‘spirituality-for-sale” era as I see it is the common theme of all of us in the world being equal. I’m not a billionaire, but my soul is still as much a part of the Whole as that person. I am not a modern day prophet like Tolle or Walsh, yet I’m still as much One as they are. They tell me so. More importantly to me, I’ve never forgotten something I read over thirty years ago in A Course In Miracles: “You are here to heal the room.” You. I think that means me. And you.

I love public speaking. It just seems to light a fire under me and the expectation of an upcoming speaking engagement brings about in me a yearning to clean house, to allow as pure a message to pass through me as possible, from a Source which isn’t my ego. It took years for me to look at this practice and not think of myself as being supremely arrogant for believing such a thing could happen. I would frequently project my doubt onto others and scoff at the thought that they had the audacity to think God would pass through someone like them. Of course, the Self-doubt and projection were both products of my lack of self esteem. It’s through years of at least trying to adhere to a spiritual practice that I’ve learned that there is a difference between self-esteem and Self-esteem. Sam Keen wrote a book years ago called Fire In The Belly, about males coming of age into their own masculinity. Concurrently I saw the movie The Fugitive and felt that Tommy Lee Jones as the Samuel Girard character gave a living recitation of the book with his performance. “Fire in the belly” is the term that is coming to mind most often for me lately to describe my need to write out my process. For all I know, ten people will read this. Maybe less. Maybe even less than that will glean something productive from this article. The point in continuing to publish them is that my gut feeling is so strong to do so that’s it’s very difficult to not interpret it as the proverbial voice in the wilderness. In addition, it feels joyful. I’m not going to argue with that.

Last week I was at an AA meeting on Thursday night. After the speaker shared her perspective on Step Nine, I walked out of the room and was intercepted by a young lady who began to complement me profusely. “You’re a great speaker,” she said. “I’ve heard you twice at the Recovery Church. You always get straight to the point.” I don’t recall ever having met this young lady but I will certainly remember her now. I felt a sort of grateful embarrassment at being showered with such praise. Me? Really? Apparently my ego was dormant enough the night she heard me for an effective message to find its way through me. And then I remembered: when someone praises the better of me they are praising the highest of me. And I will take a deep breath before I type out the next sentence. They are praising the God of me. Or whatever you want to call it. I find the word “God” to often be limiting, but I also have to confess it’s also the most convenient to get my point across. I remember Roger B. giving a talk once at a meeting and he mentioned a sponsee of his who had much difficulty with the word “God.” Roger told him to call it whatever he wanted to. The guy chose “Pedro.” If being in contact with his “inner Pedro” helped this fella to feel more connected to Source energy (something I’m a little more comfortable with personally) then who’s to argue? And since the guy chose a Mexican name it sure won’t be me. That same Spirit, by whatever name, resides in all of us. Is it arrogant to believe that a Supreme Spirit resides in me? To the contrary. I’ve come to believe that it is the height of arrogance to believe It does not.

“You are here to heal the room” speaks to everybody. Not just me. “We teach what we need to learn the most” speaks to everybody. Not just me. These statements temper any lingering arrogance I feel that accompanies this sense of urgency I feel for writing. Some people reach into the spirit of others through their words of wisdom. Some by playing beautiful music. Still others do so by opening a door for someone or maybe just by smiling. Or making someone laugh. My current challenge is to bring this attitude of “carrying the message” to the many people I talk to daily on the phone at work. It is not an easy task. I don’t think I’ll be in that workplace much longer. However, I also remember feeling stuck in a job years ago and a minster telling me “You’re not going to leave that job until you love it.” I’ve not written an article twice in a month since I started doing this column in 2012. The flame that burns in me to continue writing is getting stronger, and I know more and more each time that I’m writing for my Self. What I do for myself, I do for another. What I do for another I do for myself. Or the Self. Writing in itself fills me. The idea that it may actually be an act of service makes it even more blissful. Am I possibly getting a late start in life in a new direction? I sure hope so. Regardless, I’m finally doing something I’ve ignored the craving to do for years: I’m following my bliss. Thank you for reading.

Peace

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