Friday, March 12, 2010

No. 30

There are war zones on this path toward absolute Love. Instead of scud missiles and land mines, we are fighting our thoughts and the thoughts of our society: We are too old. We are too young. Our nose is too big, our nose is too small. We are not skinny enough, we are too thin, too tall, too short...and all around us the bombs are falling and our colleagues are losing their legs or at least their hope, and heading on to fight wars that have clearer rules.

The scariest thing about these times of conflict is believing that it is possible to find resolution. For a singer finding resolution is not about fighting her way out of the war zone. It is about her trusting, perhaps beyond all earthly reasoning, in her own invincibility. The only way these times of war can be resolved is by the singer stopping in her tracks--cease the running, let fear fall away. She sits, Indian-style in the middle of the battle field, with the bitter gas of 'rules' and 'fear' and 'anger' and 'uncertainty' wafting by her face, and the missiles of 'rejection' falling all around her. She sits, and goes inside, where the truth of who she is speaks with a voice more clear than any explosion. She gathers her strength, and allows the power of who she is to emanate, engulfing the battle field with Love. Only then is true resolution found.

So where are the bombs now? Where is the gas? where are the land mines and the screams? They are like a distant memory of how the singer does not want to live and does not want to be.

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