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Walls of Limitation

by Rev. Veronika Wilcox

I have built walls of
limitations for myself.
I have done such a good job,
that I see myself sitting
in quite a solid tower.

The tower is made out
of all sorts of excuses
why I can’t live freely
from the desire of my heart.

This tower is made out of bricks,
which represent thoughts of blame.

This tower looks quite solid
to me, whenever I really
want to move forward.

But this tower is only
made out of thoughts —
My thought and beliefs,
based on fear.

I am free in every moment,
to release this fear and the limitations,
by choosing only Love.  Amen

Rev. Veronika Wilcox is a Pathways of Light minister living in Bega Valley, New South Wales, Australia.

© 2010, Pathways of Light. https://www.pathwaysoflight.org
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The Prodigal Son Returns?

by Rev. Jay Seppanen

I’ve been dallying in new areas of opportunity in this heartfelt desire to be of service. After ordination I was looking forward to helping others in need of listening, compassion, and help in making them aware of the small, still voice of Wisdom that is within. To date, I haven’t really had much of a calling from others to do that and I couldn’t figure out why! “Holy Spirit, what’s the deal? You know how much I want to do this work, so what’s the hang-up?”

The answer came about a year and a half later when I was given a golden opportunity to go back to school and pursue a Master’s degree in Community Counseling. I still remember to this day how the knowing that I could finally do this came to me like a bolt out of the blue. “Wow! I can finally go back to school!” I said to myself out on the dock at the manufacturing company where I was working full-time. Because I was in a position to do so, I was able to leave my job and go back to school full-time. During my education I noticed they spent very little time discussing the importance of spirituality and faith in terms of maintaining the ability to cope in the secular world. Yet spirituality, it seems to me, is the very foundation of being able to cope! But I really wanted to learn the secular side of counseling theory and interventions too, so that I could make use of both as the opportunity presented itself in clinical practice. Three years later I have my ordination, a Master’s degree in Counseling, and after taking the requisite exam, my license to practice as a professional counselor in the state of Illinois.

I am thoroughly convinced that our Creator has a magnificent sense of humor as He watches my furious antics: My ego-self perceives that I’ve stumbled through a number of attempts to do this kind of work without success, which leaves me in a perpetual state of confusion. Again, “What’s the Deal?” I’d taken the state mandated training for rape crisis intervention in my late 20’s only to find out that men weren’t really encouraged to provide this kind of service. I’d actually read that in an article by an esteemed professional in the field, while I was in the program. Okay. That’s not going to work. Then, years later, I looked into going back to school for a Master’s in social work… Hmm. Can’t afford it; can’t work while I’m doing my clinicals. OK, that’s out. Then I received my ordination… limited response. Hmm. Something’s up… And finally at age 50 I earn a Master’s in Counseling and my license to practice. TaDa! Here I am!… What’s that? I can’t practice privately until I get my Licensed Clinical Professional Counselor (LCPC) credential? And that’s how many years down the road? At least two? So what’s my option? Go to work at an agency… (Okay, I can do that), but it’s tough to get into the field because of all the more experienced competition? (There’s got to be a joke here somewhere!)

Amidst all this ceaseless ego talk I once again turned to Holy Spirit for an answer and was directed to Lesson 135: “If I defend myself I am attacked.” “What could you not accept, if you but knew that everything that happens, all events, past, present and to come, are gently planned by One Whose only purpose is your good?” (W-135.18:1) and: “Your present trust in Him is the defense that promises a future undisturbed, without a trace of sorrow, and with joy that constantly increases, as this life becomes a holy instant, set in time, but heeding only immortality.” (W-135.19:1)

I realized that I may very well be exactly where I need to be regardless of the expected or desired outcome for all of my efforts, and that I had to be very aware of the ego’s tendency to read too much importance into all elements of the “dream.”  I have to continue to remember that all things of this life that come and go, that fade and rust, have no real consequence in the grand scheme. Events will occur as they need to, and maybe, just maybe I’ve already been doing the work I have always wanted to do simply by remembering my true role as being one with all of you and with our Creator!

Rev. Jay Seppanen is a Pathways of Light minister living in Wheeling Ilinois.

© 2010, Pathways of Light. https://www.pathwaysoflight.org
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Beato

by Rev. Elizabeth Griffin

Italians have an inexhaustible ability to forgive and let it go. If you do it right, it’s blessed and godly. If you do it wrong, it’s just for lack of applying yourself and you let it slide. 

“Beato” is the word for blessing or blessed in Italian and is used colloquially to refer to someone who is fortunate or “happy go lucky.” “Beato Te” (“te” is pronounced as in the first letters “tenacious”) and means “lucky you” or “care free you.” For example, if you’re going on vacation or are just sitting in the sun, relaxed and happy, the Italians would say “beato te” meaning “aren’t you blessed/lucky.” 

“Peccato” (pronounced Pe-KAT-toe) means sin, and is used to refer to the situation, not a person. You say “che peccato,” meaning “what a pity” or “oh well” to respond to a missed opportunity or lack of some kind outside your control. For example, if it rains when you want to have a picnic, or if you pull out a bottle of balsamic vinegar for a special salad dressing and see it has expired. “Peccato” is rarely used for something you yourself were responsible for. Rather, it’s a way of saying “it’s over,” “it happened,” “just let it go.”

When you do something right, it’s because you are blessed or “beato.” When you do it wrong, it’s because of unfortunate circumstances around you, and you’re encouraged to “let it slide,” and “put it behind you.”

Rev. Elizabeth Griffin is an Ordained Minister with Pathways of Light and a writer who lives with her husband and two sons in Trieste, Italy. This summer, her book A TASTE OF GRACE, Meditations and Recipes for a Fulfilling life — a small group meditation and discussion guide will be available with Fearless Books, edited by D. Patrick Miller. www,tasteofgracebook.com

© 2010, Pathways of Light. https://www.pathwaysoflight.org
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Chickadees

by Rev. Elizabeth Griffin

The operation to remove the tumor did not go well. The pleasantly plump anesthesiologist with an equally pleasant voice asked me to think of something nice before I went under. That of course made me think of the boys and I awoke from the anesthesia coughing and vomiting on my need to hold my children in my arms again. Plus, they found more cancer. My sentinel gland was completely saturated with cancer as was the capillary leading from the tumor to my lymph node area along the top half of my right breast. It wasn’t clear how much the cancer had spread. I stayed in the hospital for an additional four days for further observation, and before I went home, I was told I would have to come back for a second operation in two weeks. The possibility of a single or double mastectomy was on the horizon if they couldn’t cut out all the cancer during the second operation. My sons were 5 and 6 ½. I was beyond shock. There was no propensity for breast cancer in my family.  I finished breast feeding not even 4 years ago; I was healthy; I felt absolutely fine; this couldn’t be. 

The morning of the second operation, I woke up early. It was still dark; the winter morning sun was just beginning to come up. I put on the earphones and listened to some music. Without intending to, I went deeply into meditation. The music seemed to fill me. In my mind’s eye, I started to dance or move in a free-flowing way. And then two large, I guess they were eyes looked at me. They became part of me and although always having a sense of being watched, danced with me or danced of me or rather I danced in them. Just then the nurse came in. I opened my eyes to see a rush of chickadees circle and chirp near my window.  (My father had told me on the phone the day before, “look for the chickadees; they will be my blessings coming to greet you.”) I was wheeled off to the operating room and kept “the eyes” with me. This time I was ready with an image of our garden when the (same) anesthesiologist told me to relax as they inserted the needle that would put me to sleep. I woke up peacefully this time, glad it was over (for now).

Once back in my room, I took in a deep breath and relaxed. I could feel my stitches arced around my right breast and under my arm. The drip bag was at my side helping my lymph nodes drain correctly. 

Winter sunlight was everywhere. I was alone with nothing to do or say. I felt a kind of nothingness, like in the desert, a nothing filled with something… more. I leaned back and let my body relax completely; I felt the fluffiness of all the pillows holding up my torso and arms. 

My father called. He was always the first to talk with me in an emergency and these days he was calling me every day. I finally let his overly protective nature surround and love me. How I had pushed him away.  My autonomy and hard headedness were well formed. He and most men were to blame for mom leaving. They made her feel oppressed and she needed a way out.  A wedge of pain formed inside myself. I remember well how I went into the garage when I was alone in the house. I guess I was 8. I searched for a dark solitary corner or somewhere to put myself and the endless sadness of missing my mother. I calmly reasoned “it hurts when I breathe.  If I stop breathing, I could stop the pain.”  All these years, the chasm was now ready to be filled. I suppose my father’s love was a good start. 

The chickadees sat outside my window in a fat chorus line cocking their heads as they stared in. All the if’s, but’s, why’s, why not’s and because’s in life slid away.  The Presence of the moment filled me,  enfolded me and for an endless instant, it was all that mattered.

“I got it all out” the normally grumpy surgeon told me the morning I came back for the follow up report. No other lymph nodes showed signs of cancer. “Your body behaved as it should have; the sentinel gland soaked up what cancer cells it could and while it was completely saturated, the cancer did not spread to any other nodes. As well, no more tissue with microscopic tumors was found in the breast area. No other operations would be necessary.” 

I had stared down the cancer. The Holy Moment I felt in the hospital is where I wanted to be. It is where I would place my will, and where, I was sure, I would be restored to health.

Rev. Elizabeth Griffin is a Pathways of Light minister living in Trieste, Italy. This summer, her book A TASTE OF GRACE, Meditations and Recipes for a Fulfilling life — a small group meditation and discussion guide will be available with Fearless Books, edited by D. Patrick Miller. To find out more, go to
http://www.tasteofgracebook.com

© 2010, Pathways of Light. https://www.pathwaysoflight.org
You may freely share copies of this with your friends, provided this notice and website address are included.

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