Jan
1
My New Year’s Eve practice, for the past 6 years or so, has been to spend time in contemplation — to journal, to meditate, to express gratitude and to set intentions for the year just arriving. Last night, as part of that time, I reviewed old journal entries from past New Year’s Eves. This excerpt is from last year. It seemed filled with that childish contradiction of wanting to be one of God’s favorite kids and knowing that even the wanting is as much the desire of my ego as it is the desire of my spirit.
Whenever I say the “your will, not mine” thing, the thought comes to me that I’m trying, in this ham-handed way that children have, to manipulate you into blessing me. “Oh, look, God, I want to be spiritual but I’m so humble I’m just glad for you to use me however you want.” I know how transparent children appear when they’re trying to play adults. Is that how I seem to you, God?
Heal me of all my human B.S., God. Lift me out of all this frailty of spirit.
But when you do it, show me your face. Or let me feel your touch. Don’t do it in some way that allows me to self-aggrandize. Just do it in a way that I feel it in my heart. Get my pride and ego out of the way and shine in me even if the light is shaded from anyone else’s view. Oh, here’s a thought, God — and let me say as straight from this self-centered child’s heart as I can — if you can place that light in me and use it even though it continues to be a source of ego contamination for me, do it. Just do it. I’ll remain pock-marked with my spiritual arrogance, if it serves your purpose.
That’s the human dilemma, isn’t it? Don’t we all want to make a mark, be of some significance in your grand scheme, yet it drives us nuts not to be able to see and comprehend the grand scheme we’re part of. Because if we can’t see it a) how can we be sure it’s really grand, and b) maybe no one else can see it either, and c) maybe we really are just a worthless scrap in the wind. Don’t we all, then, just want to be Jesus Christ? A favored child? And if we can’t, we don’t want to play. Because anything less makes us just another rock or clod of dirt or speck in the eye of the universe. Being a cell in the body of God isn’t good enough because, after all, what difference does one cell make? Who will remember the coming and going of one cell?
Journal entry ends there. I would close it out by saying that we are, of course, a favored child. Each of us. But like most children, in our human frailty, we want to have it proven to us. It takes a very special child to simply know how much he or she is loved and treasured and vital to the corner of the world into which he or she has been born.
