Facets of a Diamond – Blog

You ask me what’s the best example that you can set. Better would be what’s the best example you can be.

That you believe in The Belovedness – and in the practice of It.

(2001)

The saint says that the secret of life is Love, and our task, as was his, is to learn the secret.

But why does he tell us – for telling goes only to our brains? He didn’t learn by being told, and neither will we.

There is, however, another telling –

The electrician informed me that the problem I am having with my appliance is due to the electricity supply being what is called “dirty.” This he explained meant that it was not at its constant proper frequency but was fluctuating irregularly.

It occurred to me that this could be used as an analogy for healing.

I place

The most interesting recurrent image is the ambivalence of so many of the goddesses: they could help or harm, cure or curse, promote life or destroy it.

“Light,” the poet John Milton proclaimed in his masterpiece Paradise Lost, is “the prime work of God.” And who would know this better than he, rendered blind? And further, “light is in the soul.” The Soul, the Deep

Meditation, active and passive, is a means of linking in with Guidance from the Spirit World.

Yes, we are always linked in, so I am led to believe, for all activity, physical and mental, is as Guided. But as one Guide has put it, “The more you are aware of Guidance, the more

We all have many spirit guides, what I call the spirit shaping force. The composition of this force – the particular guides comprising it – is, I am led to believe, unique for each individual. And through the individual’s life experiences – all as guided – the spirit within will evolve as Meant.

All

Bertrand Russell once said that he didn’t know what electricity was, but that he knew what it did.

I feel the same way about Spirit. I certainly don’t know what It is – but I most certainly see what It does: Everything!

How can I ever claim I did this painting, when All is Spirit acting in

I was once intrigued by the title of a book, The Quiet Therapies. It led me to wonder who the quietest therapist I had ever known was. The answer was obvious. He was not a psychiatrist, nor a psychologist, nor even a doctor. He was the male nurse in charge of the psychiatry wards at a hospital in which I worked many years ago. His name was Wally Brown.

“What more do you want out of life?” she asked quite unexpectedly, looking straight into my eyes.

“I don’t know…not much,” I replied, turning away from her, taken aback, “I am really pretty happy with things as they are.”

I was superficially pleased with my answer, by my (apparent) acceptance of my Way – and yet underneath,