Everything I think is an affirmation.
When I think about things of the world and consider how they
might affect me negatively, or how they might benefit me, I’m reversing the
flow:
As though I’m downstream of the world, and God does not
exist (because there is nothing downstream of me).
In reality, it’s the other way round:
God is upstream of me, and my job is open myself up to
receive everything that is given, or, rather, recognise everything has already
been given, and my job is only to recognise what already is. Wakey, wakey.
A sense of lack or want is a denial of God, and its
concomitant guilt requires me to attack to shift the guilt onto the object of
the attack, for having ‘taken the thing’ that I feel I’m lacking.
There’s a horrible asymmetry between the thing I think that
others are withholding from me and the universe of lack that it promises to be
the balm to.
The resentment inventory second column charges, which
represent the absences of the withheld treasures, are always so meagre.
It must always be immediately self-evident that the
existential desert cannot possibly be fundamentally remedied if the world would
give me its paltry baubles. What good are baubles in a wasteland? What on earth
do you hang them on?
So what I must affirm is: God is upstream, God is present,
God is love, God is good, God has arranged everything, God has supplied me with
everything I need already, I need only ask God what to do next.
The result is flying at thirty thousand feet with no plane and no broomstick. Just flying. Don’t stop for one moment to worry about aerodynamics. The people in the plane or on the broomstick are no safer. Quite the reverse. Lightning. The green flash of an Avada Kedavra. Much better to just be carried by the wind in a safe bubble of God’s Power, Love, and Way of Life.