Solar Power

Every once in a while I drift off into a fanciful, imaginary world in which I am the Sun. 

Here I am, my Sun Self, just hanging out in a state of eternal being, shining My light on every single life form on Planet Earth. Every creature, in every kingdom on Planet Earth, in every dark corner of the globe receives the benefit of my Divine Light in equal shares—the insects, plants, animals and all of humanity; the young, the old, the rich, poor, believers, nonbelievers, the good, the evil. Some embrace it, some reject it. Some revel, flourish and grow in it; yet others shrink from it.  

Many are fearful of what they may see and close Me out by retreating into a space of false security; they hide from the darkness behind a door of denial to protect themselves from fear of the unknown; they pull down the shades and sit in the dark, terrified of what might be revealed that they do not wish to see. Others turn on the artificial light of the ego and believe that what they see in the darkness is real. 

My light hides in plain view, clearly visible to some, completely obscured to others. Oh yes, there are often clouds, but to the awakened and wise, clouds are only a veil behind which the Truth abides. Nothing can hide the eternal light that blazes forth from behind illusion; it is ever available to those who seek. 

Every being on the planet, every single life form, is entitled to an equal share of life-sustaining light. It is a freely given gift to all, but accepted by only the few souls courageous enough to turn away from the darkness and seek the light within. 

It saddens me to the core of My being to think that so many choose to suffer in the dark rather than to open wide the window of their souls to let Me in and experience the beauty inherent within their own being. But alas, there is nothing to do but wait until the darkness causes so such suffering that a willingness to face the light creeps in to encourage a change of heart. When that moment arrives, I rejoice, for my purpose is accomplished and I stand ready to bless and heal with the eternal warmth of My loving rays.

I blink and my illusionary fantasy ends, and I see through a different set of very compassionate eyes.

As I awaken from my imaginary incarnation as the Sun, my focus shifts and my heart hurts. I think about how Christ might feel when I and others like me choose to hide from the light that He shines upon us. It makes me want to bow down before Him and beg forgiveness for my ignorance. But in Truth, I doubt that the Christ would want my forgiveness. I suspect that He would much rather have me wake up and fully embrace the Light that He so freely gives. Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do. May they see the light within and rejoice, for it is glorious in My sight.

May I flip the switch, convert Solar Power into Soul Power, and be glorious in His sight.

To add greater light to your life, visit A Tree of Light (http://atreeoflight.org/community).

It’s About Time

AC1C6000-D68D-486D-BFFD-1C8712309839.jpegLord have mercy me I’m doing my very first blog and putting it out there for all the world to see. I haven’t a clue about what I’m doing and I’m scaring myself stupid, but what the heck. What’s the worst thing that can happen? I think the game plan is to quit agonizing over whether it’s perfect, and just dive in and do it. It feels like something akin to stepping out of an airplane at 10,000 feet. I can do it, but that first step is a gonna be a whipdoozie.

When I was 29, a palm reader told me that I should write. “Write what?” I asked? “Anything,” she said. Huh. Never thought of myself as a writer. Okay, fine, so I’ll write. Write what, I asked myself. Children’s books seem like a good place to start. Easy peazy, right? Well, maybe not so much . . .

So I focused my energies on acquiring the necessary accoutrements that would make a great writer out of me. Desktop computers were not yet a gleam in the eye of Bill Gates, so I had to bite the bullet and settle for a Selectric typewriter. It was way better than candlelight and an inkwell, I suppose and at least the keys didn’t get stuck together, but still . . ..

Set-up mission accomplished, I was ready.  I parked myself back in my little blue meditation chair and awaited the inspiration that was surely in there somewhere. Yeah, but where? My trusty typewriter was growing cobwebs while I played the waiting game.  Many months—or maybe even a year or so—passed by, and then one day I heard a compelling voice in my head command, “Get up, go sit down at your desk and write.” Bossy voice!

Again there was that pesky question, and again I asked myself, “Write what?” I dallied in my cozy little corner in a state of major resistance for a while, until finally against my will, something propelled me up and out of my comfort zone, hurled me into to my office, and plopped me down at my desk in front of my typewriter. Oh no—now what?

The voice again. “Put your fingers on the keys and just start typing.”

Type what?

Anything. The alphabet. It doesn’t matter. Just start typing.

So I started typing and I haven’t stopped since. Decades later after reams of typewritten pages, newsletters, a book and more journals that I can count, the voice returns and nags yet again. This time it is with a one-word command:  BLOG.

WHAT? NO! I don’t want to!

Why not?

Because it’s a lot like work. I don’t have a clue about how to start a blog. What if nobody reads it? Worse, what if somebody I know reads it and doesn’t like it? What if I sound like a raving lunatic in need of a one-way ticket to the nearest funny farm? Furthermore, who’d want to read anything that I wrote? What’s the point? What makes me think that I have something to say that is any different or better than what anyone else wiser and cleverer has already written?

What’s different you ask? What’s different is that this is your story and it is unique. Everyone has a story, but you are the only voice that can tell yours. Every story matters. Every story is different. Every life holds value and offers gifts to those willing to hear, willing to listen. Every story is of great benefit to at least one someone else. If your story finds its way into the hands or heart of just that one, if it benefits just one life, will have been worth the effort?

Your job is to use your voice and not concern yourself with the opinions of others. The only outcome that matters is the completion of the work that you came here to do. Do you wish to reaffirm your commitment to your spiritual path and purpose? If so, it is time to take that first step, jump out of the plane, and free fall joyfully through your fears with faith enough to know that you are safe and supported even though appearances would have you believe that you are surely headed toward a crash landing.

Okay fine. I get it. It’s about time to quit wasting time and get on with it. After all, I’m not 29 anymore.  And I’m not getting any younger, either. It’s definitely about time.  Bossy voice.

Deep breath in — Geronimooooooo . . . YIKES!   Wheeee . . .

You’re welcome.