The Grace of Healing





The gardens of life explode with flowers. A thousand gods bathe in the ambrosia of heaven. The universe celebrates the bounty of creation. Revelations spread like rainbows across the sky. Does all this enchant you and make you feel better? Would you expect to find healing in the celestial realms of consciousness? Many gifts of life flow from the higher planes to the lower, some of which the gods claim credit for. The deepest secrets of life, however, are wrapped in mysterious veils that not even the gods of heaven can know.

Healing is a private matter. It does not belong to the gods or to healers. So intimate is its working that even godbeings bow when it emerges. The desire for healing will draw you deeper into the inner folds of life, where communion with absolute love is more available. No greater beauty is there than infinitely tender love touching the heart of a wounded being. No eyes shall see nor mind know the grace of this perfection.


If your body needs healing, then so does your spirit. You may feel lost in the world of density, confusion and pain, but hidden beneath the veils of body and mind, the mystery of your life goes on untouched and unrevealed. Reach beneath what is physically or emotionally apparent. Unwrap your consciousness from the outer form. Trust the unseen movements of life that transcend the duration of body and personality. The godbeing is not concerned about how long your physical form endures; it is concerned only that the maximum possibilities of its life be manifested from it. The grace of healing occurs eternally but is never revealed. Pray for this love. Healing will come, or not.

Fire of life! Living Love! Healing love come to me!
Fire of life! Living Love! Healing love come to me!
Fire of life! Living Love! Healing love come to me!

28 The Hermit




Listen to Episode 28 The Hermit



Upon returning from my first trip to India in 1990, I visited the spiritual counselor friend who recommended that I go. Others were there to hear about my journey, but I sat motionless on the couch in her living room staring off into space. "He doesn't know how to use his personality," my counselor friend explained. I had been away three months in an environment so strange, that the outer framework of my thinking had cracked. I had penetrated deeply into the void as a retreat and had returned ill-equipped to deal with the world. My personality might not have been totally defective, but its deficits were significant, and no amount of meditation was going to change that fact.

In the intervening years, I learned to make things work, but only minimally. I made two other trips to India with my wife at the time and had an easier time of it. I left the meditation community where I had resided for five years. I held a job for eight long years. In all of this, as if the particulars of my living didn’t matter, the inner space, the void, the unknown, has increased its presence in my life to unfathomable proportions, and now, thank God, I have a modicum of understanding of my spiritual situation. I am retired from the work world and have a wonderful life, which, however, does not include many friends or desires to accomplish anything. Regret about that is one of the lingering shadows I have learned to recognize and accept as part of my personal landscape.

The pull of the world includes people I love, a house, and a cat, and that’s it. The interior void, the monster reality of unknown existence, is pulling me with high drama. My being feels like a rubber band with the stretch being modulated enough so that the “snap” away from the world does not destroy my psyche, like it very nearly did that first trip to India. Only love can save that day. Such a jarring entry into spirit is not enlightenment; it’s insanity. I have felt waves of universes beyond and have also visualized myself sitting in a hospital room staring all my waking hours out the window. There is something to be said for that kind of hermitage. But not today.

Fortunately, I have learned that keeping all of this in balance is my responsibility; no teaching or guru can show the way. I have made progress in maintaining a steady walk from day to day, managing the waves of ecstasy and the trepidations that come when lingering in the beyond too long. Meditation as sadhana is off the agenda, as is recreational mind expansion. I have always been a hermit, I guess, a self-defined monk, if you will. Little in the world appeals to me, and the number of things that can draw my interest is declining rapidly. Even the past is fading as a frame of reference for who I am. The hermit lesson I have learned is this: to be a hermit in this context is to realize that even with the stretch between the earth walk and the infinitude of spirit, one is alone, driving through a landscape of one’s own creation, following guidance from such a vast beyond that there is no breath deep enough to take that will suffice for being this awake.

27 The Quest to Know

Listen to Episode 27 The Quest to Know



Have you ever run from your house, thrown up your arms to the sky and cried, "I want to know!" and run back inside for a book that the universe has put on your book shelf? If you are awake even minutely, you run back outside to the sky and cry out, "That's not what I mean. That's for kids. I want to know the truth! I want to know how life works, where I am going, who God is and whether my life means anything!" You feel the veils inside your heart darkening your sense of the way things are, and you start tugging at them as if they were rags worn by street urchins. "Please, God, at least give me something nice to wear, something that shines with truth and radiates love so that everybody who sees me knows that you exist. But if you would, God, I would really rather be without any of these things, without the pretty veils of worldly stories, of sweet notions of who you are. I would rather be alone with you without anything between us. That's what I want to know, God. What it's like just you and me. That will do."