Muslim Envy

A friend of mine is Muslim.  She's amazing not only is she fun, she's busy doing and contributing in ways most people only talk about adding significance and substance to the world.  She's always covered, head to toe even on the days when the temperature is pushing 100 degrees.  Not once have I heard her comment or complain when the rest of us are griping about the heat we claim we love.

I'm always amazed at the numbers of male friends that she has in spite of her being covered and their seeming devotion to her.  She's that woman who can literally just look over her shoulder and know someone is standing in wait to assist her.  Her temper is lightening fast but so too is her smile.

While I start my day seated in meditation and prayer rarely do I intentionally break away from something to go pray.  I do turn consciously in my mind to ask for guidance, send blessings and I stay in a constant state of listening that I'll call being open to hear the Voice of God but rarely does it require me to physically break away.

12 years ago I hosted an exchange professional from Ghana.  He is Catholic and highly ritualized in his worship.  When he first came to live in my home he was eager to join me in my morning devotion time.  While we worship under differently denominations, I know there is only one power, one presence that some of us call God.  It matters little to me what name you use, what sex you think She is I choose not to get caught up in those trivial details.  I am and have always been unconditionally open to however God shows up.

A few weeks into his 3 month stay I started to get uncomfortable with his "joining" me in prayer.  Praying together seemed to create an intimate bond with him and I had no intention of being intimately connected.  I know that sounds strange, this man was afterall living in my house but in my mind he was a house guest not a house mate.  This praying stuff was getting us too close for comfort.

He seemed both shocked and slightly offended when I told he we could no longer pray together.  I am a single woman and had no frame of reference for the intimacy that seemed to grow out of that hour, it had to end. 

This memory was triggered a few days ago when my friend needed to make Salat.  I asked to stay and be apart of the prayer when her and one of her Muslim brothers made prayer.

Jesus said with two or more are gathered in my name there am I also.  When we started to pray I felt that all too familiar shift that seems to open up a vortex of energy sometimes when I pray in a group.  My prayer time is good when I'm alone but when I join with others I can feel the amplification of that joined intention.  That energized pregnancy that seems to open up when the veil has been lifted.  In that moment I understood that intimacy I felt many years before with my house guest and I also understood the relationship my friend has with the men she prays with.

In that small moment of time I understood and developed a new respect for the ritual.  I felt envious of the intimacy and potential it carried.  While I pray often with others it's not 5 times a day and asking someone to come join me in prayer seems awkward, hookey and in some cases manipulative.  Many of us try to create some elaborate prayer that address all our perceived needs and will stir some type of emotion.  While emotions seem to infuse our prayers with power as I listened to them pray I had no clue what was being said.  In spite of that and maybe because of it the devotion of it touched me so deeply, so sweetly that I am forever changed.

I am honored to be on my path, one that is open to God however God shows up.  By keeping an open mind I hear deep within my own soul whenever and wherever God chooses to speak to and through me.

Peace & Blessings 2u!
 ~Sandra

A Special Relationship

Am I Ready?

I thought I’d matured, I thought that if I was approached by my beloved today I’d be emotionally ready to receive him.  Today I’m not so sure.  If you’ve been listening you’ve heard me say that I was waiting on my “ME” or Mental Equivalent.  Rarely do I meet men who are spiritual in the same ways that I am, able to converse, relate or even be interested in the areas I find fascinating.  I meet men who are religious and not spiritual.  I’ve settled for less thinking that if I am the person that I think I am I can get them to at least be supportive of my path.

Honestly, I find dating difficult because I believe more in what I feel than what I hear or see, energy is everything to me and I believe I’m quite perceptive.  It’s probably not fair to a man who may have genuine interest but are dismissed because all I’m feeling/detecting in him is lust.  Lust isn’t cute, sexy or even desirable to me.  Yes, of course I want to be desired like any other person but then what?  As sex/sexy gets old then what? 

Romantic, or as we call them in the ACIM community Special Relationships are difficult enough without making them totally focused on the body and bodily pleasures.  I often tweet about men who desire a beautiful woman with a sexy body but do nothing to take care of their own body.  They operate as if all they have to do is toss money her way. 

Friends often say their 1^st marriage was for love but the 2^nd or 3^rd marriages would be for money, security and stability.  I’ve never been married due largely to not wanting to settle for something I knew wouldn't last.  

My high school sweetheart recently found me on youtube and sent me a message he lives in Florida.  He had asked me to marry him while he was still enlisted and I immediately said yes.  I was thrilled at the prospect of being married to a guy I loved.  Shortly after our engagement I started getting these excruciating headaches that would get worse when he called.  I remember the day I broke off the engagement my head was pounding so hard I thought it would split open.  When I picked up the phone that day head pounding I simply said I can’t do this.  Do what he asked?  Marry you.  It felt as if a weight had suddenly been lifted off me almost immediately.

 

Ironically, as I was writing that a familiar horn blew.  The second guy that asked me to marry him works at the fire station a few blocks from my house.  He had a plan even before he asked me to marry him he started straightening his life up.  He landed a job as a fireman, took me house hunting and was laying the foundation for his proposal.  I wish I had told him no when I got the inkling that it was coming.  The ride home for the restaurant was torture.  For all the years he’s been a firefighter he has never changed stations and still drives past my house and blows that familiar horn.  

The guys that proposed to me have been really good guys who still adore me but I never felt the yes.  I love them too but still didn’t feel the knowing that I get when something is right.  I am honored by the gentle love we still have for one another and cherish the richness of the friendships we share.

Recently I met someone who gave me pause.  I felt nervous and a bit unsure as we talked.  His approach seemed the same as most; noncommittal.  Birthing anything requires commitment and space.  I saw a documentary once of an egg being fertilized.  Millions of sperms raced towards the egg bouncing up against the membrane trying to get in.  Once a sperm penetrates the egg a hormone is released that kills all the other sperm still fighting to get in.   

I think I'll know when it's for right now as well as when its right.  When it is right I think it will be like the natural fertilization process, all else will fall away and we’ll enter into that alchemical space of gestation that happens just before a new birth. 

Blessings 2u! 

~Sandra

Internet Radio Show May 20th

Hey I really have to start blogging more, since I've been working on my book so I'm not quite sure how to separate blog post from book stuff.  Tonight I'll be on an internet radio show on www.ACIMgatherRadio.org just go to the site and listen in.  Real laid back tonight but I'll start doing this on a weekly basis.  Hope to chat with you there.  Oh download paltalk.com or tweet with us using #acimsb see you there.

Miracle Workers

I was sitting on my deck a few weeks ago feeling the warmth of the sun typing on my laptop.  I heard the traffic on the street and people talking as they walked by but none of it registered in my consciousness because I was in a zone working.  But then something cut through my cocoon and pulled me into a state of awareness.  I was not sure if I was listening in real-time or if I was operating on a delay what I heard was a woman’s voice saying “my doctor told me I have six months to live.”  Curious to see who was talking I quietly sifted my position to get a glimpse of who was talking to whom.  It was my neighbor talking to the guy who delivered meals on wheels to the lady a few doors down.  

Immediately, my judgments took over.  I thought “if she’d stop all the drinking and drugging she wouldn’t be in that predicament.”  Hah! she's toxic; she just got out of jail, her & her boyfriend fight all the time, she eats junk food 24/7 and gets up off the coach only to grab a beer or walk to the store for another bag of Fritos.  She’s a walking talking drugged out zombie.  In my mind she might find death a relief from her seemingly miserable life.

  

While people normally have conversations like that with me I was so glad she hadn’t I did not have her in a good place in my mind.  Funny thing about the mind is that I could have all those thoughts in a split second and not miss a beat.  I don’t know what was said before the "six months to live" statement but I did hear the guy as he started fussing at her saying that God has the final word not some doctor.  

As he talked I heard him say things that I’d said so many times before, in essence it is done onto you as you believe.  “If you accept that you surely will be dead in six months or less,” he said.  “How are you going to go down without a fight?  Isn’t your life worth more to you than that?  Somebody tells you that you’re going to die and you say okay and wait on it?” Oh he was giving it to her good.  “Don’t you ever let those words come out of your mouth again!”  He spoke to her with such authority and disdain for what she just shared I knew she must have felt ashamed, because I did.  

I felt ashamed because I know what it means to have spiritual authority; to speak to the mountain and tell it to move and it be done.  I was looking at what actually was rather than what was possible.   I had not looked beyond her faults, but rather, reinforced them because of what she had shown me.  Familiarity does breed contempt since she was my neighbor I didn’t have the luxury of not knowing her experientially.  Now along comes the Good Samaritan and after fussing for five minutes he asked “are you saved?”  I didn’t hear her answer because it was not a question that was important to me.  I do know that that’s when he started to pray with her and as he did so did I.  

As man drove off to continue his route I sat there questioning myself.  Who is this stranger that is in my head today thinking as if it were me?  I, Sandra Bishop, know better.  I know that I cannot escape the prison that I locked my neighbor into.  If I hold in my mind that she is doomed then I will be too.  I can’t be free if I imprison my sister; as I see her, I will see myself.  Not that I do what she does but if she can’t change, if her life can’t be transformed then neither can mine.  God is no respecter of persons if I can be transformed so can she and so can you.  It can and did happen in a holy instant.

This exchange was an answer to a prayer I’d asked, “God where have I strayed off course?”  I love the way God speaks.  He didn’t have to say “my child you’re not looking at your neighbor through loving eyes.”  He let me overhear a conversation so that I could open my own eyes.

 

I can’t be a miracle worker with judgmental calcified vision.  I have to see not only what is possible; I have to see the masterpiece that God ordained them to be, that requires that I be open and loving.  I almost typed forgiving but it’s not that, it is beyond forgiveness.  Forgiveness assumes that something is out of order or wrong.  I know that sometimes part of our growth process requires that we go into the darkness to better see the light.  It’s not that a person is wrong or off course they are “in the process” and if they keep moving forward it all works out as it should.  Sometimes we get all get stuck and linger longer than we should in the darkness thinking that that is our truth.  A prayer is often sufficient summons guidance.  God's will will be done.

Here’s what I know.  If I am in judgment of another person I’m not in the light, I’m in the darkness too.  I know that a shift in perception is all it takes; I know how to get back to heaven without a GPS.  I also know that heaven is incomplete without my neighbor so if I want it restored to me it is imperative that I show them the way.  I can’t do that from a place of judgment (standing in the dark pointing at the light) but only from a place of love.   

I trust that God has a purpose and plan for each of us and that successful execution of that plan is inevitable.  Once a person hears the summons, sees the light or feels the pull there will be miracle workers like you and I along their path encouraging them to keep moving forward.  Whispering “rest if you must but don’t you quit we’re waiting on you.”     

Trust the Process

It seems that something has been missing from my life, a lot of things.  I have prided myself on living with purpose and meaning but lately it seems as though I have lost my way so I pray.   For years I had been involved in and taught about living a spiritual life, one day that all suddenly ended and I’ve felt myself wondering in the wilderness at times trying to figure out how to have the promise land revealed to me again, so again I pray.

I remember when I first discovered what we called new thought, I went first to a Johnnie Coleman church where they seemed to talk about and relate to God in ways that were totally unfamiliar to me.  I had read the bible cover to cover while overseas and found that the Baptist teachings I’d grown up in no longer suited my understanding.  I was on my own till I met a woman who said “oh that sounds like what they teach at LTC,” I looked it up and went thinking they couldn’t possibly be where I was but they were pretty close.  I called that place home for a long time until that minister left and I went to a Science of Mind church. 

Without going into the subtle nuisances of all the teachings I’ve studied it was in new thought and Science of Mind in particular taught me about spiritual mind treatment which is commonly called prayer.  They’d dissect prayer paying close attention to the relationship of oneness we have with God.  Changing what has been instilled into me from almost birth is an ongoing process. 

The idea that I could be plugged in one day and on the outside looking in the next seems odd, I know.  I’ve searched my soul trying to recall if this spiritual sojourn could have been the answer to a prayer; you know the show me kind.  Maybe I needed to see or be sure that where I was is where I truly wanted to be. So I prayed.   

The final step in the prayer process is to release your words with the spirit of expectancy and anticipation.  When I first learned the prayer process things seemed to happen so quickly I’d actually move out of the way for fear of being hit by the fast delivery.  I chuckle about it now.  When I prayed for a car I parked mine around the corner and walked home; I didn’t want any blockage to my blessing.  I got it and it only took 3 weeks and was paid in full as requested.  Often my prayers are not for things but rather to have something revealed, developed or understood.  How this comes into existence is often an arduous process like the birth of a child.  This spiritual wondering or sojourn maybe part of the process unfolding whatever the case may be I trust the process. 

On Air

My phone rang at 6:04 pm the other day.  I’d been at my father’s house for over an hour talking about my recent trip to Seattle.  He’d been asking a lot of questions and surprisingly I knew the answers.  I didn’t answer some knowing the reason he was asking them.  The phone number was not one I recognized but I knew it was a local cell phone number from the exchange.  “Hello?” I said in my most professional voice.  He identified himself right away which I like; I hate when people assume you know who it is or think that it’s fun to make you guess.  I don’t save numbers in my phone automatically I don’t like scrolling through them. 

The caller was Darnell Brewer and on the rare occasion that he calls it’s for a reason.  “I need a favor” he got right to the point.  He was asked to host a radio show for a mutual friend at the last minute and needed a guest and wanted to know if I was available.  “What time” I asked, there was one of those nervous chuckles and then “7 o’clock” as he cleared his throat.  After doing talk radio and cable TV for the past 15 years I know what it’s like to scramble to find a guest for whatever reason.  If the show is popular its easy guest are soliciting you all the time asking if they can come on your show.  When the show is not popular you’re looking under every rock you can to find someone even half-way interesting to come downtown at odd hours, in the cold to do a show.  This was a live talk show with callers.  

For some reason I asked “so how far down on your list was I?” as if it mattered.  Maybe it was my ego but I honestly wanted to know before I agreed.  “Number 3” he said.  I had already stood up put my cup in the sink and was starting to pull on my coat as I gave him my meager demands.  It was cold out and I didn’t want to drive, if he started right then he could get me and be down at the station in time for the show.  Luckily I had my laptop in tow.  I don’t know how I ever did radio before computers & internet access.  I pull up everything because it seems disrespectful to those that are listening to me to be caught unaware or uninformed of anything.  Thanks to the internet you can know a little bit about everything as quickly as you can type it in.  We arranged a pick up location and I was off.

The Seattle Backdrop

I had only been back in town 2 days at that point.  I’d spent a week in Seattle with my family following a funeral that I attended.  I’d stayed with my Aunt and Uncle whose house was not only beautiful it was immaculate, something that I’m not quite use to.  My place is comfortable, you know lived in; it’s just me.  Like now I’m sitting here at my kitchen table typing there is no special room or office that I have to sit in, sure I have an office but I’d rather sit in my kitchen with a cup of coffee next to me.  I have small bookcase on my kitchen table for books I like to keep close.  I have journals and papers sprawled out on the table too.  I have a basket at my feet with more books and papers and a stool for my reference stuff like a dictionary, thesauruses and bibles.  My bedroom is pretty much the same, scattered with books, notebooks, pens and highlighters.  Don’t get me wrong there is nothing wrong with having a well organized home but coming from mine it’s an adjustment.  They didn’t pick up my stuff but they did neaten up my workspace each time I left it for a moment. 

It seemed indulgent being able to sit in their home surrounded on every side by breathtaking beauty.  The view of the lake the mountain, their home was awe inspiring like the perfect place to write or create something wonderful.  Leaving there to come back to my own home was hard, like a little kid I wanted to drag my feet or fall on my face and refuse to leave.  It was 50 degrees and I was coming back to snow and freezing temperatures.  I was ready to chuck home, thinking my fish had enough food in their automatic feeder and a decent battery.  They like that feeder better anyway; feeding time is fixed and happens twice a day.  They seem to pout a little when I resume feeding them.

Just like Home

My returning to the airways with that microphone in front of me felt like my return home should have felt, right.  When they cued us I lit up.  Doing radio is not like TV both require personality but you bring a different side of it to radio without as much prep time.  I went from drinking tea with Dad to being on air in one hour.  On TV you have worry about hair, makeup, wardrobe and not just any old clothes.  What accentuates you while not clashing with your set?  Does it make me look too fat and where to put that microphone?  It’s recorded then edited then shown.  Radio is live. .it’s magic and callers give instant feedback and interaction.  Don’t get me wrong I love TV but the difference between radio and TV is the difference between my Aunt’s house and mine.  I miss it.

Consider it Done

Organized religion has done a real head job on us. When we buy into it we compartmentalize our lives into something totally unrecognizable. We divide it into the things that seem acceptable and those that are not; when in actuality all of it is who we are. It is no wonder mental ailments are so rampant in our society. Jesus said a house divide against itself cannot stand, many of us are divided within ourselves how can we stand?

I tend have the perception that an all powerful God that could create the Universe would not be a deceiver. He would not give humans or animals faculties that they were not suppose to use. We certainly need to learn appropriateness so that we don't self pleasure in public but that is vastly different from denial or suppression of our natural inclinations.

I often believe that religion without being tempered by common sense causes an internal strife. There is a beauty in being able to listen not only to your body but to your spirit as well and be true to it. Many people live unhappy, unfulfilled lives listening to everything and everybody but themselves & that still small voice that speaks from within. We pretend to trust in God yet don't trust that He speaks to each of us. If we do hear what we heard can't possibly be right. It's too audacious, to good maybe to be true for us or requires more risk than we're willing to take.

To Be Good

Most of us wonder about how different our lives would be if we had made other choices. I know I do. I wonder what I would have done if I grew up believing I was beautiful. Or if I thought it was okay to live a free and adventurous life. It is truly the nature verses nurture question for me. My nature says be out spoken, bold & adventurous. My nurture says a good Baptist girl gets married, has babies, keeps a clean house, joins the PTA and has dinner on the table when her husband gets home. Seeing life in terms of this continuum puts you at a terrible disadvantage. The definition of being good is so narrowly focused that if not this then that. I'm not good therefore I'm bad. These external value judgments cloud the real truth.

At a certain point in our lives we have to stop with the holier than thou attitudes and figure out what it means to have a real relationship with God. In becoming more spiritual and less religious we discover a God that wants us to be happy. That He didn't create us from a cookie cutter destined to monotonous Stafford wives. Spiritualized living recognizes God speaking constantly. Believe it or not when we're more spiritual God becomes more expansive, more powerful weaving in and out of every experience or encounter. We stop limiting God to a book and see Her everywhere actively involved in our lives not standing in judgment but beaconing us to rise.

The Kingdom of God is spread out before us here on earth. It is not only in the good that we see but also in the bad. In this awareness when you're confused simply ask the question God what would you have me see here? And anticipate the answer.

In All & Through All

I was following a friend to shop one day, she was taking her car in for service. We were on the freeway and I was clutching my steering wheel crying and praying out loud about a number of things that just weren't going right in my life. Finally it got to the point that I felt all prayed out, I had that pause where I thought what else? I started that involuntary sniffling we do after a good cry, you know the one where your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath.

I often use my drive time as prayer time as if traffic was some metaphor for life. This morning the traffic was thick and I had been careful to keep my eye on the car ahead of me maintaining what I thought was an acceptable distance. We'd be exiting soon so I was drying my eyes. I wanted the puffiness to go down before I had to get in the car with my friend, I didn't want the questions about why I was crying that was my business. Then out of nowhere this huge 18 wheel semi started cutting over into my lane. Checking my rearview mirror I prayed & screamed not wanting to be hit from behind as I jammed on my brakes. I was screaming all kinds of profanities at that truck.

In a matter of seconds I had gone from praying to cursing calling that driver everything but a child of God. How dare he cut in front of me like that? I could have been killed I thought and uttered a reluctant thank you to God for moving me out of the way. But I fussed at God "why does it have to be so darn hard all the time?" That truck almost hitting me was adding insult to injury or putting salt in a wound. As I was pondering my seemingly terrible lot in life I saw the truck, as if for the first time. Written across the rear door in huge cursive letters was "consider it done." Tears started pouring from my eyes freely as those words penetrated my soul. Consider it done! Thank you God, thank you.