For the Love of God in Human Form
In Mystery School yesterday (and I guess you’re never not in Mystery School), my teacher shared a profound teaching on love that I’d not come across before. He challenged us, as students of enlightenment on the Path of transformation, to take our intellectual understanding of Self as God to a much deeper level. Could we, he asked, in the midst of a bad mood, an angry thought, a sad time, a judgment or a blaming game, choose to be God anyway and show love in a profound way?
What God in the Human Form knows is “Every Soul loves me. Every Soul is me.” So when you find yourself blind to this love, blaming, judging, lacking compassion, and about to lash out at someone, the God-Self knows there has been a severe case of misperception. To heal it, you need only remind yourself that no matter what you think you see or know, the truth is that the person who challenges you really does love you, despite whatever difficulties they may have in demonstrating it.
I urge you to try this exercise today — right now as a matter of fact. Whether you be only slightly annoyed with someone, unaccepting, unaccepted, or completely engulfed in a lifetime of bad feelings, hold in your heart and consciousness the understanding that the other person really loves you. And see what transformation happens in the way you are able to show love to them.
God works in mysteriously freakish ways. Yesterday I went to a family BBQ. There’s a young boy–a cousin I’d never met–who, after a while, started to get on my nerves with his playing around. Irritated with his most recent “game” of banging on the back of my chair, I told him to stop in a raised voice. Apparently, I was the only one he was “assaulting” in this fashion. My aunt laughed and said, “He must really love you.” She said that not knowing anything about this teaching, but just knowing how he (and I guess any little boy)sometimes behaves around people that he likes. I, of course, knew it was God talking through my aunt, reminding me of this little gem of a wisdom. Eventually, the boy was back again banging on my chair. I turned around and looked at him, keeping the wisdom in mind. “What’s your name?” he asked. “Toni,” I said, “I’m your cousin.” His eyes lit up and from that moment on, he called me “Cousin” and couldn’t have been sweeter.