This essay originally appeared on Susan Dugan’s blog on Oct. 24, 2014.
“I’m not talking about this now,” I said, barricading myself in the fox hole of my office against incoming verbal shrapnel like any self-respecting ego. Feeling once more misunderstood, manipulated, unfairly treated, and falsely accused in a special relationship; just when I thought things were humming along benignly enough in my dream. The sudden, toxic turn of my projections left me licking my wounds, delicate feelings shredded, boundaries trampled; blah, blah, blah.
Ken Wapnick’s sage advice to simply remember A Course in Miracles workbook lesson 5: “I am never upset for the reason I think” and 34: “I could see peace instead of this,” seemed a lifeline, dangled in mockery, just beyond my reach. “So you became afraid again; just don’t take it seriously,” I could hear my right mind cooing. “Seriously?” I wanted to shriek. Because unlike that cockeyed optimist, I knew only too well that if I left this room I would find myself back in the fray; one or more dream figures in my face again, waxing thunderously eloquent about my many failures.
And so I turned, as I often do, to the big, blue book itself, for solace. Ironically, I had been reading workbook lesson 185: “I want the peace of God” again, and, as usual, had conjured my attraction to its opposite. My reaction to the ensuing drama in a close relationship illuminated just how much I must secretly want to prove the reality of this guilty, unloving self I really hold close, a shield against the punishment we’re all convinced we deserve for coveting individuality in the first place and participating in the ego’s collective cover-up. Still, a part of me really does want the peace of God, really does want to experience itself as worthy of all-inclusive, unwavering love. Only I can’t experience it and still hold on to these trippy, painful dreams of persecution.
See, I want the peace of God, but I want it my way, right here, right now, in my kitchen. I want to gracefully negotiate it, if you know what I mean, to bring these wayward others in line with my elevated reasoning, in a civilized conversation involving wild blueberry muffins and well-brewed cups of dark-roast Joe. I want agreement among my costars, to serve as a silent ambassador for peaceful behavior they will happily and gratefully emulate.
But apparently, it doesn’t work that way. To say I want the peace of God means I relinquish all attachment to private, separate interests and outcomes. And there’s the rub. Because the body I still think I am fears for other bodies unwilling to cooperate with its higher understanding and expanding clarity. The body I still think I am longs to take literally passages in this lesson that seem to allude to a human joining that belies everything A Course in Miracles says about the world and its seeming inhabitants vying for survival:
“Many have said these words. But few indeed have meant them. You have but to look upon the world you see around you to be sure how very few they are. The world would be completely changed, should any two agree these words express the only thing they want.” (Paragraph 2, line 9)
But the agreement, of course, is never among other dream figures, considering the startling fact that, well, there are no dream figures! The agreement is always and only about my sincere willingness to disagree with the one ego’s dire, hateful interpretation of events, thereby agreeing with the one right mind’s certainty that only truth remains. “Not one note in Heaven’s song was missed” by an insane desire to experience ourselves other than whole and eternal; loved and loving. The agreement is merely my decision to align with the one right mind we share; to join in the only relationship truly available, our relationship with the memory of wholeness within the one mind capable of teaching us to heal our mistaken belief in the sin of separation realized.
“Two minds with one intent become so strong that what they will becomes the Will of God. For minds can only join in truth.” (Paragraph 3, lines 1-2)
And that means it is always only my seemingly separated mind in need of joining with the truth held and protected in our one right mind. Because here in the broken condition I find myself in I cannot ever completely agree with anyone or anything. My very seeming survival depends on protecting the illusion of our differences, the strength of our vying positions, our dependencies and declarations of independence, that shore up the illusion of our very existance.
“In dreams, no two can share the same intent. To each, the hero of the dream is different; the outcome wanted not the same for both. Loser and gainer merely shift about in changing patterns, as the ratio of gain to loss and loss to gain takes on a different aspect or another form.” (Paragraph 3, lines 3-5)
A Course in Miracles does not mince words about what our minds on ego are really up to here in our relationships within the dream we call our lives. We compromise and sacrifice, bargain, manipulate, and seduce to get our needs met. When our negotiated agreements are inevitably reneged upon, all hell breaks loose and we self-righteously brandish our betrayal. Or, we learn to stop and recognize there is a better way of relating in this so-called world, that we haven’t a clue about what we really want, but are willing to learn from a new inner teacher that does. We can stop, and sincerely ask that teacher to tell us what we really want to learn.
“What do you ask for in your heart? Forget the words you use in making your requests. Consider but what you believe will comfort you, and bring you happiness. But be you not dismayed by lingering illusions, for their form is not what matters now.” (Paragraph 8, line 2-5)
What do I really ask for in my heart? I ask for peace. I ask for healing. I ask to learn I feel better when I release you from the bondage of my opinions and the conditions of my love. I ask to see you and me as the same, regardless of the gory details of our ego meltdowns. To remember we still love each other, even when our behavior speaks otherwise. To remember we share the same split mind made mad by guilt and the same reassuring inner teacher that knows we are already home, our seemingly broken heart still beating as one.
“Let not some dreams be more acceptable, reserving shame and secrecy for others. They are one. And being one, the question should be asked of all of them. ‘Is this what I would have, in place of Heaven and the peace of God?’” (Paragraph 8, lines 6-8)
Even though these dreams of our deep fissure rattle me to the seeming bone and almost convince me once more that love is gone for good, I know that underneath it all I want the peace of God. And I am learning, from moment to moment, to withdraw my hopes of finding answers in an illusion that has never delivered on its promises, and listen to that inner cockeyed optimist instead. Because it remains certainly grounded in vital information I have forgotten.
“It is this one intent we seek today, uniting our desires with the need of every heart, the call of every mind, the hope that lies beyond despair, the love attack would hide, the brotherhood that hate has sought to sever, but which still remains as God created it. With Help like this beside us, can we fail today as we request the peace of God be given us?” (Paragraph 14)
Not very God-damn likely! 🙂
Susan Dugan’s books – Extraordinary Ordinary Forgiveness, Forgiveness Offers Everything I Want, and Forgiveness: The Key to Happiness – are available at RMMC and on Amazon. She writes about ACIM based on Ken Wapnick’s teachings at ForaysInForgiveness.com and teaches Tuesday nights at RMMC.