(An Encouragement That You Are Allowed To Make Decisions Outside Of The Father Of Fear)
Standing at the door, I look out. My choices appear to be restricted to (a) a possible right turn, or (b) a possible left turn… and that is all… isn’t it? Ugh! I don’t know which choice is right and which one is wrong. I am confused.
Words and sounds float by, as do emotions. They move upon the roar of eerie-sounding winds. Sometimes I cannot hear anything above the roar of the wind and I am overwhelmed, whereas at other times the sounds shrink into nothingness like a whisper sucked backwards into someone’s lungs—someone who has swallowed their own mind.
The voices beyond the door are many. Some tell me what I must or mustn’t do and that I have no choice. Few voices are fortified with truth, and many are laden with disinformation. The voices press my mind from all sides. I try to ignore them because choice is something my True Father gave me: the choice between life or death. The choice between blessing or cursing. But the sound of the onslaught of voices is too much for my mind to sift through. Too much weighing and balancing. Too much system of judgment.
Do I stay inside, or do I go outside? Is it safe? Do I turn right or do I turn left? I don’t know! Idon’tknow, Idontknow, Idontknow!
Fear begins to drive me. I feel my heart rate rise as fight, flight, freeze or fawn creeps down my spine. There is a bad omen here, and I just don’t ‘get it.’ Why do I feel this way about my simple God-given right to choose? My own ability to contemplate? My peace is gone. Why? Where is it? Why cannot I not get it back? I cannot think straight. Where are my questions? Who took them away and where is my voice?
My mouth is dry. I can’t swallow. Why can’t I find my voice? My throat is closing over. I’m choking… I… can’t… catch my breath… I… I catch sight of a magnificent tree, tendrils dancing gently in a slow-moving breeze, somehow positioned on either side of a river. It is straight ahead. It is not right or left, it is dead centre, but far away from this door that has held me in lockdown. In isolation. Separation.
I don’t need to make a decision right now, do I? I don’t need to rush. If I can choose anything right in this moment, maybe I can choose to walk to the tree, sit beside it and the river, and just.be.still.
I take a deep breath, steady myself, and place one foot in front of the other. With each new step, I realise that I am alive. I am not dead. And I can breath in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. I place my palm on my chest and feel my heart begin to calm. Yes, the tree and the waters; the peace and the quiet; the ‘be still and know’ of time and space that is opening up before me.
The river runs slowly. It meanders. It isn’t rushed. Peace. Rest. Reset. I feel my questions returning with each new moment of reconnection with creation because creation doesn’t tell me what to think or how to think; it only reminds me that I can think. And that is my take away from this redirecting of my focus: in this place of quiet and recline, of leaning and letting go, fear leaves and Love infills the space that panic left.
I am not a collective. I am individual. I am me and you are you. We can feel our own feelings and think our own thoughts. We can ponder from the deep wells within us and those deep wells are far-removed from fear because we are infilled with the power, the light and the life of the Son… and as He is so are we on the earth. This is our identity: We are enfolded into the God of Love where fear is not found. We dwell in our Father Who brings us peace. We reflect Him here and this means that we are forever peacemakers… not peaceKEEPERS. PeaceMAKERS. The storms around us still when we speak and out of our bellies flow rivers of living water. We affect change in the environments around us and in the atmospheres above us.
Yes. This is who we are.
Because Souls Are Like Gardens 