My love/guide told me today that if I hadn’t had all those years of suffering and crippling doubt I couldn’t have written the books that I do, and could’t have reached the people I reach. I write books of hope for the hopeless; stories of deep meaning for the lost and out of touch. I couldn’t have come to them in compassion and empathy if I hadn’t myself felt disconnected, and like God and all meaning had turned from me.
The universe is based on contrasts: yin & yang / for every action there is a reaction. The world of spirit is no exception. For each teacher trying to lead us toward light there will be another slinging darkness. When we find ourselves dancing in joy we will find friends crowding nearer who want to drag us into their fears, angers, and disillusionment. When we lose ourselves in beauty, others will remind us of ugliness. As our lives fill with magic and wonder, there will always be those trying to beat these away from us with factoids and rumors, with scientific counter-references and left brain limitations.
I picture a dog in a storm outside a large comfortable mansion. He is standing at the door, barking and howling as the masters snuggle inside by the fireplace, dry and warm and feeling wonderful.
They go to the door to let the pooch in, but he won’t budge. He hasn’t been barking for them to let him in; he’s been trying to get them to come outside and share his misery, to join him in this horrible deluge.
So they walk back in to sit again by the fire, to snuggle up in the golden warmth, as he goes back to yapping in the darkness.
These are troubling times for the Deep of Spirit, but we have our forebears even here. Did KH and M ignore the political heavings and machinations of the London Lodge? Did HPB fight with Garibaldi? Did Annie Besant never take a political stand, nor her friend, Mahatma Gandhi? Would the good Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King want to be forced to choose between being a man of spirit OR a political activist? And from my readings of the Bhagavad Gita, I did NOT get that Krishna was telling Arjuna, “Okay, buddy; you just sit this one out. Go back and meditate under that tree in that field; maybe if you OMMMMM loud enough you won’t hear the cries of pain and the clashing of the armor. Let these lesser yokels fight amongst themselves. You’re on the path now; don’t soil your hands.”
Bob Edward Fahey 