Adventures in One-derland

I was going to tell you about my visits to the church at Chimayo with its crazy little patch of miracle dirt – I’ll save that story for next time, it’s a good one. But today I have something better to talk about. (Yes, even better than miraculous dirt. I know, hard to imagine.)

I was meditating this morning, trying as usual to put the principles of A Course in Miracles into action. Meaning, in this case, that I was attempting to overlook the illusion of separation by merging my own mind in Oneness with the minds of others.

These others were chosen more or less at random; my husband, because he was wandering through the bedroom at the time, looking for clean socks; Baxter the hellcat, because he was yammering about nothing at all, having just been fed. To these I added a friend many thousands of miles away, and, last but not least, Spirit (who is always included in these Oneness exercises – being the only expert in the room, so to speak, at how it’s done).

Now, I should back up & tell you this, if you’ve never tried the Oneness thing: You won’t like it. Your mind will fidget, your body will twitch, it’ll feel like sandpaper is roughing up your last nerve.

That’s because our ego minds have quite a lot invested in our belief in separation. And it takes some serious effort to retrain the mind to start accepting the idea that we’re all One. (Oh, it might sound good as an abstract Bob Marley-esque concept – One love, One heart. Let’s get together & feel all right. But now try putting it into actual practice and see how it really feels. Not all right. Sandpaper City.)

Long Time No See tells half a dozen stories on the subject of minds joined in Oneness. 3 years ago, when Spirit first proposed that I try joining, (in a story titled, “If you let me, I’ll show you what you are”) I did everything I could to avoid becoming One with Spirit. It was only when I realized I had no choice in the matter that I finally gave in. And I wasn’t what you’d call gracious about it, believe me. See for yourself in the following excerpt from that story:

…“This is a very powerful spot,” Fran informed me. “By sitting in this round opening with one foot inside the cave and the other foot outside on the rock ledge, it’s possible to straddle two dimensions at once. Go ahead and try it,” she suggested, climbing out the hole to meditate on the ledge overlooking the canyon.

I positioned myself in the opening, yet couldn’t relax. Although seated very securely with my back supported against the curved opening and both feet planted on solid rock, every time I closed my eyes I had the uncomfortable sensation of falling sideways out the hole, jerking myself upright over and over again. I tried and failed to meditate for at least ten minutes before giving up in exasperation.

This is a complete waste of time, I thought crankily, I don’t know what we’re supposed to be doing here. I climbed out the hole and joined Fran on the ledge. This felt a little better.

Closing my eyes, there came an immediate invitation:

If you let Me, I’ll show you what you are.

I considered for a moment. Even though the offer was plenty frightening, I probably did want to see what I was.

“Yes. Ok.”

Soon we were flying along hand in hand over the canyon, me on the left and Spirit (a vague and non-specific entity) to my right.

What are we supposed to be wearing? I fretted. Shouldn’t we both have some kind of white robes or something, flapping in the breeze?And a moment later we did.

Looking to my right, I saw Spirit’s free hand dissolve into a shower of shimmering light, like a gentle, glowing birthday sparkler. The ball of light climbed up the right arm, dissolving as it went, across the body and down the left arm until only sparkling light remained. It paused where our hands met, asking wordless permission to continue. I could see where this was going and didn’t like it a bit, yet after a long hesitation I agreed.

The light dissolved my hand, arm, body, other arm, hand. I jerked away reflexively and we became two individual balls of glowing, sparkling light. My ball sped crazily around the other, repelled yet drawn like a maddened bug to a candle flame. As my ball zigzagged its agonized orbit, the other ball remained absolutely still, waiting patiently.

I knew what was being asked of me—I just didn’t want to do it. The game wore on for another excruciating minute before I finally hit my limit, unable to stand the discomfort of resistance any longer.

“Oh, all RIGHT,” I said testily, pausing at last to allow our two balls of light to merge gently, softly into one…

It ain’t easy, getting used to that ‘joining in Oneness’ thing. At first blush it feels like the complete loss of individuality, & who among us would sign up for that?

Well, those of us who want enlightenment would sign up for that. And it’s taken 3 years, but my mind is getting sort of used to the idea of Oneness now. Sort of.

Except I’ve been so wordy that I see this story will need to be continued another time. Join me then (!), won’t you?