"we are one..."

"we were all,
looking up,
in the same direction,
in that moment,
looking up,
we were one..."

When my sister-in-law [once-removed] Lisa, suggested that I listen to Ana Egge's performance of "We are One," featuring The First Unitarian Brooklyn Choir, all the pieces of this post -- came together for me.

But I am getting ahead of myself. Each year, as my celebration of advent, I review the 24 questions in the chapter "Recapitulation," from Mary Baker Eddy's Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures. This chapter is the entire curriculum for those who are seeking to understand metaphysical healing through the lens of Christian Science primary class instruction.

Today is December 3rd. So today's question was:

“Is there more than one God or Principle?"
 

It's one of my favorite questions -- perhaps, because it is one of the first real "aha," moments in my study and practice of Christian Science.

Eddy's answer to that question is:

“There is not.
Principle and its idea is one,
and this one is God..."
 

Is one. Not are, one.

For most of my life, I thought that this question was asking about the possibility of multiple gods. But her answer pointed me in another direction. She was not asking if there were more than one god(s). But if there is more "out there" than one God or Principle? We are not off-shoots of divinity -- but part and parcel to divinity itself. The all-inclusive coincidence of God's wholeness as divinity embracing humanity. No separation. "...and this one is God." Wow.

Which gets me to an earlier piece of this puzzle for me. Question 1 on December 1, was: "What is God?" A question Eddy answers with: "God is incorporeal, divine, supreme, infinite Mind, Spirit, Soul, Principle, Life, Truth, Love."

Question 2, yesterday's question, was: "Are these terms synonymous?" And she assures us that, in fact: "They are..." She doesn't ask if these are the names for God. But if they are "synonymous," -- a word that means, "one directly implies the other."

For example, to say Mind, is to imply Soul. Therefore to feel the presence of Mind, is to directly imply the right to experience the presence of Soul. Thus, what we know to be true, we must be able to feel as the expression of Soul -- or spiritual sense. This is something I have written about  before - because it is such a vital part of how I understand metaphysical healing, but yesterday it came alive in a new way.

As I was deeply pondering this question again -- plumbing deeper for new insights -- my friend Kristin posted this video, "What Does Color Sound Like?" about synethesia [a word that shares an etymological root with the word "synonym"] and the artist, Wassily Kandinsky, on Facebook. It took my breath away. Oh my goodness! I am a synesthete. I had never heard either of these words before -- but that video was a window on my "soul," -- on the way I see, feel, hear, and experience the world around me. It is why poetry comes without intention or effort. I am experiencing color as words. I am hearing music as it takes shape in the clay I am holding in my hands.

But, perhaps this is also why I can hear a patient tell me that they are unable to feel peace, while at the same time, telling me that they love their children.  And, I am able to see - with absolute conviction - that this is impossible. For, if they love their child [an indicator of the presence of God as Love in their lives] I cannot even imagine - at any level - that this does not directly indicate the presence of Soul - and therefore, the sensation of peace.  It is why gratitude and inharmony - or unwellness of any sort - are absolutely mutually exclusive to me, for anyone.

On a more visceral level, this is how it feels for me:  I see a certain shade of blue, and I actually hear Joni Mitchell's song "River." I hear "River," and I feel that song's translation as a shape - in the clay I am holding in my hands. I feel clay under my fingers, and I sense the presence of Soul, as Spirit -- God moving, animating, skating my fingers through the clay, my arms around a horse's neck, the rise of words - like a murmuring of swallows above a river of ice --  swirling and lifting themselves into poetry.

It's all one.  We are all one. We are individually, all these things - colors, sounds, words, movement - working together for good, because we love - period. And we are collectively one - poetry and reader. Sound vessels and still water. We are blue and yellow - colors that compliment one another and reveal the deeper nature of the other, in hue, tone, meaning. But in the same spectral of light.

We are individually and collectively synonymous. Each one of us, directly implying the other. For example, if I say the word wife, I imply the concept husband. If I say God, I imply man. Principle and its idea - one. One directly and implicitly denoting the presence of the other.

I once asked my Sunday School class to put aside the "names" for God that Eddy listed [above] and imagine that they only had colors, sounds, textures, flavors, shapes to define the Allness and wholeness of God. What would the color of Spirit be? How would Life sound? It was refreshing. It was felt.  I actually do this regularly myself. It helps me to recognize the presence of God - Principle, Mind, Soul, Spirit, Life, Truth, and Love - in the world around me, and within me.

Practicing this re-framing, is like practicing a new language. We are translating sounds into shapes. We are hearing colors and feeling scents. We are seeing blue and feeling peace.  As a dancer translates music into movement, a spiritual healer translates love into health -- because Truth and Soul are synonymous.

I could go on and on -- and on. But I will leave this here. I am so grateful.

offered with Love,

Kate

"just call me, and I'll always be there...."

"You with the sad eyes,
don't be discouraged;
though I realize
it's hard to take courage
in a world full of people
you can lose sight of it all;

and the darkness inside,
can make you feel so small..."

Endless Summer's cover of Cyndi Lauper's "True Colors," is kind. And yes, a performance of a song can be kind. This is.

I love the message of this song. A lot. Today, as I was hiking back up a steep (for me) hill. I felt a sliver of darkness trying to creep in and make me feel small. I know that feeling of smallness. There have been times in my life when this smallness has felt like the only thing present.

I am not a perfect human. In the past, I have let fear and doubt bully me into behaviors that I am not proud of. For such a long time, those mistakes felt like the only milestones that peppered my timeline. I couldn't remember a single positive period in my life, without the gremlin of mistake poking its head in and saying, "don't bother smiling about that moment -- it was so small in light of all the mistakes you have made."

This verse from True Colors always touches me deeply:

"Show me a smile then
don't be unhappy.
I can't remember when
I last saw you laughing.

This world makes you crazy
taking all that you can bear.

Just call me up,
'cause I'll always be there...."

Every where I looked, I had reasons for self-doubt and regret. I had always wanted to be - only good. To be loved, liked, accepted -- to belong. That hunger for belonging was ravenous. If you have ever been truly hungry, you know that it is not a feeling you can just ignore. It twists and aches in you. Those who have known real hunger will tell you that there comes a point where you will eat the unthinkable, just to make it stop.

I have known that kind of social and spiritual hunger. And I would have done anything to make it stop. In some instances I did whatever it took to alleviate the ache of loneliness and the feeling of being detached from Love.

So what changed. I found someone. Someone who had realized that their life's purpose was being the one who saw the true spectrum of each person's "true colors" through the lens of Christian Science practice. And I knew from our very first conversation that no matter what horror story I told them about my "past," they would never - ever - believe it.

It was like re-telling a nightmare to your mom. She loves you, she listens, she assures you that it never happened (or would ever happen) and then she reminds you to eat your breakfast and not forget your homework.

There was never a sharp intake of breath, never a sigh of "oh my gosh," or a moving away from me -- only love. Always love. Always there. Even when I couldn't see my own worth. They did. And through their eyes, I began to understand that what was true about me, was not in contrast with what was false, -- it was all.

In their eyes, I felt seen. Through the lens of their heart I felt known -- and beautiful.  I felt like a child of God.

And in their eyes, I wasn't just the bright light of my good moments, or the darkness of my bad choices. I was also the soft blues of gentleness, the fervent reds of fierce hope, the rich greens of a verdant faith, the deep purples of earnest devotion, the brown sackcloth of self-immolation and surrender, the sunflower yellows and September golds of harvested experiences. Each one, pointing to the presence of light itself -- with its wholeness of spectrum, tone, saturation, hue.

In their eyes, I saw the fullness of my heart's deepest desire -- to be good. And it was that desire that turned even the darkest day feel like an opportunity to discover the beauty of slate blue, charcoal gray, sea green, and bleached wheat.

I am so grateful. When someone truly sees you, they don't just stand on the other side of the chasm, and tell you to cross over.  But they hold out their hand, pull in beside you, and offer to walk you forward -- that is love. Pure and simple. It is love.

offered with Love,

Cate