Lovely, gloomy, morning. Sunday. I have the corner light off and there is just enough light in the gloom to be able to comfortably type while remaining enclosed in the dark. What heaven!
A period of transition I’ve been going through has been evident in what I’ve written lately. Had a wonderful, exhilarating break through yesterday—the kind that makes yesterday seem like a long time ago—that has life feeling new again. That had me out with my camera to capture the poppies that are open to bursting, when a day ago they were only buds. What happened yesterday? It’s almost like I unfolded with the poppies, opening another layer of acceptance of myself, my power, my voice.
I have my old Dialogues book here in the cabin with me, and I go to it to look up transitions. I’m realizing the whole of ACOL is one long series of transitions; changes. In a short while I put the book down on the chair next to me and Simeon (the cat) promptly comes along, walking over its shiny white cover. This Dialogues book is the last of them that is still in good condition. I pick it up, stick my pencil back in it, and set it, face down, under the table lamp, noticing as I do a huge opossum wandering down the path as if heading to my door, her pink nose in the lead. Haven’t seen her since last year, or since winter anyway, but suspect she lives beneath the cabin and have been leaving crusts of my peanut butter sandwich nearby for her. I am glad to know she’s still in residence.
There is life beneath the cabin.
My gaze returns to The Dialogues. How I loved and agonized over its creation. It was the first book I ever created front to back. There is life in it still. And there is life here, in me, too. The Dialogues are about this life. I pick the book up again. Begin to rub at the smudge marks here and there. As I hold it lovingly, memories flood me. I begin to read my introduction to this volume. In it, I mention that I am forty seven-years-old. I think, Okay, I was born in ’55, I’d have been forty in ’95, that would make this 2002.
Propping the book open carefully with the nearby Writer’s Diary of Virginia Woolf, I am able to type from it:
“Receiving all of the text that would eventually make up the body of work associated with ACOL took just a few weeks short of three years. During that time, I felt as if I gave up “my voice” to “the voice.” I “got out of the way” to let “the voice” pass through me. I regarded the work as my “purpose” and I took it very seriously.
I was very serious—very earnest. I felt awed and honored, was disciplined and devoted. I dwelt in a state in which “the Course” was all that was important.
Despite being acutely aware of my “divine purpose,” I saw myself as a little self, small and inconsequential next to “the voice” of the Course of Love. The voice of Jesus was the only voice that mattered—there was no room for my voice.”
The rest of my introduction is about my odyssey away from that feeling. How bold I was, adding “Coming to Voice” to the title. I go back and look. That phrase appears nowhere in the book. I was making it . . . my own. I don’t know when the last time was that I read that intro. There’s a wealth of memories in it, for me. Yet I wonder if many readers of today are feeling as I felt then. In my early days with the Course, I wasn’t alone in my feeling of smallness or of wanting to get out of the way for something higher and better. It was, in a sense, the attitude of the day. In 2002, as I began seeing that my own attitude was unfortunate and not in keeping with ACOLs message, my new feelings were not always greeted with acceptance.
I’m finding no such hesitation now, in 2015. I’m seeing eagerness within readers to greet their own selves, and to come to voice as who they are. What a joy this is! I am immensely grateful! Coming to voice is precisely about breaking through something—any “one” or one of many things holding us back—from our own unfolding.
Concentrate on making the first transition and on the reversal of thought that it requires. Thus will you carry this time forward with you into creation of the new. D:D21.10