Who am I to talk about A Course in Miracles?

Hablar de Un Curso de Milagros

Talking about A Course in Miracles always causes me some discomfort. I deeply resist the idea of convincing anyone that what I believe is the truth. However, in my life, writing and A Course in Miracles are two constants and I feel the need to unite the two in this ancient instrument we call “blog”.

Talk about A Course in Miracles
“The Therapist” 60×60 (Personal Collection)

Introduction to this blog: Talking a Course in Miracles.

Hello,

This is not a blog meant to be read. It’s meant to be written… In my universe, obviously. In that universe too, almost nobody “reads” anymore. However, if you’re reading this, it’s for a reason, right? Maybe.

Here it is. I welcome you and my infinite gratitude for opening you to see one more interpretation of A Course in Miracles. In its new edition.

Talk about A Course in Miracles
Canva Hexagonal Perception

Who am I to talk about A Course in Miracles?

No one really. Or so I think. what do I know!

My name is Olga Sáenz. I like to be called O.

O. is a reminder in a way. It reminds me that in my innermost reality I am a zero that can go anywhere on the dot; it reminds me that I am here to be useful and not to serve a thought that says I am an individual and separate being. And that furthermore, I am the center of all that I perceive.

I am a circle that always goes back to the same places, a spiral that does not know if it is going in or out. An infinite movement that believes that it is the landscape that moves. As a character, I can tell you a lot of stories about this identity. Useful stories that serve me to remember. Stories that can be tools or weapons for genocides. In a good way I don’t exist, not even as a dust particle thrown in a black hole. In a hundred years I won’t even be a memory.

My job is to light the beacon, to open the door, to belly flop and be the bridge. That’s what I think I really am. A zero, which can be useful, but which, by itself, has no value whatsoever.

The story I can tell you about the character does not exist except in fantasies that I call memories. I am a student in first grade, kindergarten, maybe nursery school. I know nothing. I never know anything. I don’t even know what I really KNOW, because I don’t remember it.

Talk about A Course in Miracles
Flowers 50×100 cm

And from that awareness of absolute emptiness, I intend to comment on A Course in Miracles. And I start at once. I follow neither an order nor a pattern. I open the app, the book, the audiobook and whatever comes out I comment on it. Here I blindly follow the instructions of my Inner Voice (Yes, if you are a student of the CM you will know that it is Holy Spirit).

I will base these comments on the Complete Annotated Edition of A Course in Miracles (the purple book).

I have not yet managed to find the complete translation in Spanish. I don’t know if there is any translation yet (I wish!). However on the“Circle of Atonement” site I found this partial translation:

https://circleofa.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/05/UCDM-traduccion-parcial-version-CA-del-Circle-of-Atonement.pdf

In it I found this introduction to this new edition of the Course, which I particularly love and on which I am going to base what I am writing here.

I leave here below the foreword to this edition. And I’m about to write something about A Course in Miracles Annotated and Completed Edition.

Prologue to the partial Spanish edition

A Course in Miracles is a modern spiritual classic. Dictated to Dr. Helen Schucman by an inner voice between 1965 and 1972, A Course in Miracles has profoundly impacted the lives of millions of people around the world.

However, what many students do not know is that Helen’s original handwritten notes for the Course-which remained hidden for decades-contain approximately 45,000 words that are not included in the 1976 edition of the Course.

This Complete and Annotated Edition (C&A) of the Course is based on those notes, attempting to recover as many of the original words as possible and as much of the original wording as possible. It also contains extensive footnotes that clarify difficult passages and, in addition, contains an appendix of 33 cameo essays that reflect the guidance Helen Schucman and William Thetford received on how the Course should be applied in everyday situations.

We are very happy that the first part of this edition of the Course can now reach the Spanish-speaking world, which has a large number of students of this pioneering path. This project would not be possible without the dedication and tireless effort of our team of Spanish translation volunteers and their leaders, Carolina Alonso and Miguel Carrera. We are very grateful to all of them for their dedication and the care with which they have undertaken this project. We know it will be a valuable resource for generations of students of this spiritual masterpiece.

Blessings, Robert Perry

 

 

Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, perhaps more necessary than ever.

Ferris Bueller Days Off is a 1986 film starring Matthew Broderick, a couple of other characters and basically it’s a film that we could call light, but, nevertheless, I think it’s phenomenally important right now and that’s why I want to talk a little bit about it.

Ferris Bueller's day off

I wrote a blog and as I am now in this podcasts thing, I am going to do it through a podcast and I would really like to know what you think, what you think, how you see it, if you have seen Ferris Bueller, if you haven’t seen it, you have to see it. It’s a movie that always leaves you with a smile on your face. Interestingly, although made in the 80’s, it’s not as politically incorrect as others. And it’s really worth seeing. It’s worth seeing. On Rotten Tomatoes it has an 86% rating and in users, in people who saw it, it’s at 92. %. So it’s totally worth seeing. It’s not Oscar-worthy, it’s not a movie with a big message or anything transcendent. It’s a super light movie. However, the reason I want to talk about it is because Ferris Bueller left me with a taste of something that I have a long time of not living. And that caught my attention, it caught my attention a lot.

As it turns out, for those who haven’t seen the movie and for those who have, I remind you. Ferris Bueller’s day off is a must-see. It’s this kid who pretends to be sick before… spoilers are coming, I must say! He pretends to his parents that he is sick, the kid has a lot of tricks to pretend to be sick. He doesn’t go to school, he calls his best friend who is really sick and gets his girlfriend out of school and they go on a day off, right? You don’t even see them partying, you don’t see them having a beer, you don’t see them smoking a cigar, you don’t see them just enjoying life and that’s it, without any major or minor ingredient other than the enjoyment of living it and that’s it. And the mae says it at the very beginning, the kid looks out the window again and says, how am I going to go to school today on a day like this? And you can see the blue sky, blue sky everywhere, so let’s see, suddenly you understand where I’m going? Suddenly I asked myself: how long has it been since I’ve been completely disconnected, without the desire to look for parties, without the desire to go with a friend or with a friend to have a conversation? And I’m going to put them in my universe. The symbol would be to get on a bus, take a Churchill to the port and come back or get on a car and do the same. I would get on a bus and go to the port, have a super fresh ceviche for lunch and come back in the afternoon. It’s a day off without connection, a day off without a phone, a day off without worrying if they called me, if they looked for me, a really free day off.

A day when one can truly disconnect from everything and connect with EVERYTHING.

Because seriously, when you disconnect from everything you can connect with what everything really is, yourself, nature, whatever your idea of divinity is or supreme intelligence or whatever you want to call it. I want to talk a little bit about the characters, because the characters are super interesting. I really like to analyze character symbols, people as symbols. Ferris is a contagious mae, Ferris is a mae who likes to enjoy life, he’s not a hedonist. He doesn’t do anything for the pleasure of eating or for the pleasure of fucking or for the pleasure of not, no, no, no, the kid is not a hedonist, it’s more that he likes to enjoy life. However, he is a responsible kid? He is clear that he is going to college, he does all this paraphernalia because he wants to look good with society, with the school and with everything.

Otherwise he would just run away, like the role Charlie Sheen plays at the end, he’s not a mudface. No, no, Ferris Bueller is a kid who escapes from school just because he likes to enjoy life. But he also has a detail: we see him in the concert, the one he does in the middle of the street, Ferris Bueller is a contagious guy. He drives people and moves them and influences them. So, there goes the first reflection that I like about Ferris, and that is that in some way we are all contagious to spread poison, to spread perfume, and I said poison to be kind. We can, we can be bridges of wonderful things, we can be carriers of horrific, toxic and ugly and tired things. I’m not saying to hold back from what you feel, but it’s important to recognize that you’re contagious, we’re all contagious. The happier we are, the better we live, the happier and better our environment is going to live. So, well, that’s the first reflection on this guy, Ferris. Then there’s Cameron. I love Cameron. I saw him recently in this wonderful “Succession” series on HBO . And Cameron is the same Mae he was, I don’t know, 40 years ago, in 1986, he’s a very scary, half-witted, follower, never a leader. He follows Ferris. He can’t figure out how to say no to him or tell him to go fuck himself. He concedes everything to Ferris, including his dad’s Ferrari. But aside from that, he’s a kid who also likes to enjoy life, because if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be there. He’s got this whole family thing going on, he’s scared of his dad. He’s obviously a screwed up guy. His mom’s a wreck. There’s a psychological profile that’s worth watching, especially when he sends everything down the tube at the end. When he sends that Ferrari out the window, sends everything down the tube, he takes the risk of living and facing his responsibilities, and not getting sick and not being afraid all the time. I love that. The evolution of Cameron’s character is really worth the ticket. Then there’s the girl, Sloane, who is also absolutely influenced by Ferris, but she kind of fulfills the role that we women fulfilled a lot in the 80s, which was being the pretty girl, who’s with the popular mae, and somehow there’s once the mae leaves, like she doesn’t know where she’s going to be left, and he’s worried about her. And then there’s Ginny, who to me is the second super character there, who is the super envious girl, the sister. This girl is phenomenally envious of Ferris, but then she realizes that she’s envious of him because she can’t bring herself to do what he’s doing. Basically, if you can’t fight them, join them. That’s what Charlie Sheen tells him in jail. When he meets this character, who is the ill-fated Charlie Sheen, who at the time was still dashing, beautiful and handsome, and in the mood for love. Let’s say that what he says to her is: stop fucking around and live your life. And she really makes that change, and that’s where she becomes a bit of an accomplice of her brother in this let’s enjoy life.

“And let’s give a kiss to a stranger, and the truth is I don’t even know the name, but I still go ahead and give him the kiss.” No, they don’t go to the bathroom to fuck. No, they don’t meet at all, they don’t exchange phone numbers, they don’t meet on Saturday. It is an affair. She runs her day off too in some way and more awkwardly because she ends up in jail, for a mistake, but she ends up in jail. And then there is the director, who is the eternal persecutor. I don’t give much importance to the director by himself. Because we could talk about duty and we could talk about rules and blah, but we don’t all know that speech. I just wanted to mention him, because he is the classic bad guy of the eighties movies in which the bad guys and the good guys were a Hollywood reality, in which many of us learned life and learned to live for better or for worse, never better said. However, it is worth just taking a look at it, because the director really wants to do well, but there comes a point where he enters into a power struggle with Ferris and Ferris Bueller can not fight with Ferris Bueller because Ferris Bueller represents life, represents joy, represents freedom. So it’s very difficult, also, because it’s not a horrible crime. It’s not that the guy goes and robs a bank. It is simply a very innocent thing, in quotation marks, but it is very innocent. So, I just wanted to reflect on these last characters, and well, wishing you a wonderful time wherever you are and recommending you to watch Ferris Bueller again. It’s really good. Pure life. Bye.

The parallel reality of Parque Morazán: “Marcela”

Parque Morazán

“Marcela” is a symbol, but she is also real, flesh and blood, this is a call for help from someone who knows she doesn’t know and wants to help.

Since August of last year I have been living in the Solera Bennett Building, in front of Parque Morazán. Every day, I religiously sit down at dawn to write my diary, meditate, read the Course, look out the window.

It is an interesting window to say the least. Diagonal to the now Aurola Marriott, every morning I see the tours that go to Tortuga Island and Tortuguero arriving, I remind myself of my history as a guide, a tattoo that I will carry until the last of my days in my soul. I see Interbus, and a lot of other buses, minibuses and trolleys of every color and flavor getting on and off passengers non-stop all morning long.

Likewise, I see and suffer the trucks that arrive to drop off various goods at the Musi, down here.

I see the patrols and their searches, I see those waiting for the cars that will take them to their jobs and inevitably I see the homeless. These human beings that we all see and no one sees. Those to whom we give the arrogant gift of our compassion when not that of direct annoyance, by their attitudes, their smells, their continuous filth, and the terrible sadness that dwells in their faces as if spitting at us that they are also ours. Human. And as such, mirrors of realities that we do not want to admit… (or do we? Who am I to say that you do not admit them?).

Parque Morazán is a parallel reality, it is like a Sims game, in which we are all, inevitably, “NPCs” (Non playing characters, that is… extras.). Whatever I think of the people below is bound to be wrong. The only thing I see is what I think. So, having said that, I want to tell you about “Marcela”.

I saw “Marcela” for the first time shortly after arriving here. A pretty woman, walking barefoot, sandals in hand, at six o’clock in the morning; long, soft curly hair, with a worn but present, somewhat blonde tint still. Somehow I sensed her contentment, God only knows why! I saw her a few hours later buying a beer at the Musi. I thought it would be a party girl waiting for someone or something to go home.

That happens here in Morazán from time to time. Someone comes along with a six pack, or a solitary beer and sits around, hanging out, with friends or in silence.

But “Marcela” became a daily occurrence. That’s why I named her, to distinguish her from the rest.

Every once in a while he would appear, with a somewhat pungent voice, asking a pedestrian smoker for a cigarette. I didn’t realize she was homeless until weeks after seeing her. It is not the classic. That is the point. She does not have the haggard face of the crack addicts, nor the blotchy face of the drunkards, she is a healthy, robust, beautiful woman. She’s not even thin, she’s got her curves. If she dressed up she could look amazing anywhere.

I named her “Marcela” in my own story.

One day in November she disappeared, I didn’t see her again for several months.

In those days some crack addicts camped in the dry fountain of the park, and lots and lots of policemen began to fill the streets of December.

I think it was in January that she reappeared. With short hair. It was like she was coming to the park for the day. He wandered among the little meadows getting sun like Diogenes, sleeping more hours than a newborn baby. Smoking at times, sitting at others. Many times just staring into the void.

For a few weeks, I saw her talking to different people. Someone would stop by on a motorcycle and give her cigarettes in the mornings. Another would leave her breakfast from time to time. I think at that time she was sleeping somewhere.

A few weeks ago I decided to find out more about her because something changed and she sleeps here, out in the open. If it is not raining in any dry corner of the park; when we are in a downpour, she takes a place at the side of the hotel. Interestingly, she leaves at times and comes back with other clothes, rags more and rags less. Sometimes she seems fine, other days it is as if Life has run over her with viciousness and rancor. Urinate anywhere, the other, she does behind any bush.

I have thought for weeks about bringing her this or that. I stop myself.

Sometimes I’ve kicked myself for those “savior of mankind” impulses. I have learned my lesson and bueh, here I am writing, because soon and someone knows how we can seriously help her.

Musi’s people say that at the beginning she came in and everything worked very well, but at times she became very aggressive and sometimes she had to be forcibly removed from the door from where she would at times, harrass the clients and whatever else. (Again, what do I know what this girl is looking for?)

Sometimes humanitarian groups come and feed her.

On Sunday, someone waiting for a ride approached her, spoke to her, gave her something and hugged her with such tenderness that tears came to my eyes. I will never know who this wonderful woman was, but the gift was not only given to this poor woman abandoned by life.

There are those who give herwater, permission to stay under a roof, and an occasional pastry, but nothing temporary seems to really help.

“Marcela” has some serious mental disorder. I dare not diagnose anything of course. But she has it, undoubtedly.

Sometimes we see her fighting, singing, shouting. But she usually sleeps and sleeps and sleeps, all day and all night.

It smells like a terrible depression. But I don’t know.

So, I pose the question: Is there anything that can be done for this woman?

Is there an institution that can pick up the baton of this call and give you what you need? Treatment? Human Rights? Women’s Rights?

Here they are.

Obviously I’m not going to post a picture of her. But if anyone can do anything to get her out of the daily hell of the streets, just come to the Morazán on the Solera Bennett side. She is rarely not here.

Nature-Inspired Art Workshop: Painting the Wildlife of Costa Rica with Olga Saenz

Nature-Inspired Art Workshop

Dive deep into the essence of Costa Rica’s vibrant wilderness with our specialized nature-inspired art workshop, meticulously crafted and led by Olga Saenz, a renowned artist with a rich background as a naturalist tour guide.

Pintura de un mono | Olga Saenz

 

Olga’s transition from exploring the intricate wonders of nature to capturing its raw beauty on canvas has resulted in breathtaking works of oneiric expressionism. Her profound experience as a workshop instructor, alongside her expertise in blogging and SEO, renders her uniquely qualified to guide you on this artistic journey, where the wilderness serves as both muse and classroom.

Your Artistic Expedition Kit (Materials):

  • Acrylic Paints (Primary Colors):Master the art of color mixing to recreate the endless hues of the natural world.
  • Paper & Canvas: Your canvas awaits, from initial sketches on paper to the final strokes on canvas, capturing the essence of the wild.
  • A Diverse Set of Brushes: A selection designed to detail the delicate textures and vibrant scenes of Costa Rican wildlife.
  • Rags & Water: For the perfect paint consistency and brush care.
  • A T-Ruler: Ensure precision and proportionality in your artwork with this essential tool.
  • Black Drawing Pencils and eraser.

Workshop Highlights:

1. Nature Observation:

To start the Nature-Inspired Art Workshop, we will venture into the heart of Costa Rica’s wilderness with Olga, honing your ability to see and capture the subtle nuances of nature, from the delicate veins in a leaf to the flamboyant plumage of tropical birds. Develop the artist eye in the rainforest.

2. Tools and Techniques Introduction:

In the studio, Olga unravels the mysteries of the painter’s arsenal, from the diverse array of brushes to the alchemy of color mixing, setting a solid foundation for your creative exploration.

3. Hands-On Exploration:

Before approaching the canvas, familiarize yourself with various brushes and experiment with mixing colors on paper. This phase is crucial for gaining confidence in your artistic abilities.

Blue Coatimundi | nature-inspired art workshop

4. First Artistic Endeavor:

With personal guidance from Olga, embark on creating your initial piece, learning to layer and refine your work for enhanced depth and realism.

5. Precision Drawing & Grid Technique:

Select a piece of the wild to immortalize and employ a grid technique for a faithful representation on your canvas, focusing on accuracy and aesthetics.

6.The Painting Process:

Guided by your preparatory sketch, delve into painting, with Olga providing expert advice on brush technique and color selection to bring your vision to life with confidence.

7. Cultivating Personal Style:

Throughout the workshop, you’ll be encouraged to explore and develop a unique artistic voice, influenced by Olga’s expertise in oneiric expressionism and her deep bond with nature. This journey will inspire you to create pieces that not only reflect the beauty of Costa Rican wildlife but also resonate with your innermost self.

Green Jaguar drinking water
Green Jaguar drinking water

Our nature-inspired art workshop is more than a painting class; it’s an invitation to connect with the Costa Rican natural world, unlock your creative potential, and learn from an artist who has seamlessly blended her passion for nature with her art. Join us for an unforgettable journey where the artistry of nature and canvas merge.

Why do I study A Course in Miracles? What is it about?

Why do I study A Course in Miracles? What is it about? A Course in Miracles is a book, a spiritual path, a point of view, a daily decision and a tool manual.
I have not always agreed with everything it proposes, however, over the years, the Course has given me more strength, faith and peace than anything else in this chaotic world.

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Experience in my Art Studio in San Jose

With increasing frequency tourists come to my home/studio. Known guides, friends, bring their passengers to see my art studio in San José, and by the way, Morazán from another perspective. It is always a satisfying experience, whether they buy or not. This one is a different one.

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The Incredibly Useless Transcendence of Art.

Water Monkey

 

Art is only an instant. That is all it is.

It’s a moment in the ear of a wave that we interpret as music, it’s a piece of decoration that catches our eye that can only cover a point at a time. If an artist does very well, it becomes a collectible item. Useless and purposeless.

And yet! And yet, millions are paid for pieces of art by this or that artist. Art is a symbol of status, a way to show that I can afford the price of having an “original work” hanging on the wall.

Isn’t it fascinating?

Art serves no purpose and yet it is expensive. And a sign of culture, sensibility and knowledge. “Cultured people” are supposed to like art… Aren’t they?

Why such a useless set of items continue to thrive amongst the worst of times? Haven’t you wondered? I have done it since I started painting!

Why does it fascinate us?

Furthermore, why do I continue to create art, whether people buy it or not?

It’s a question I have always asked myself seriously. I asked the question when my art was hidden in my house, and when I saw people in awe at it, I am asking this question as I am writing this… Why does creativity fascinate us? What is it about art expression that touches us so deeply?

Right at this moment, I am asking myself: Why do I write… if those who read me already know it and those I would like to talk to aren’t interested?  Why do I keep on writing, as useless as it is?

And even worst! Why do I paint? As costly as it is!   Even though I try hard, I don’t see its purpose in the daily life.

I mean, I do art, a totally disposable endeavor. And yet… There hasn’t been a day in the past nine years when painting hasn’t felt as needed as breathing.

It’s inexplicable, indescribable. There’s nothing in time/space that compares to it, and yet we have all experienced it at some point. Even if you’re not an “official artist” (I’m not an “official” artist because I don’t have a degree from an academy or university, mind you!). You have felt it, if only a little, in the playful rhythm of a song or in the look of a photograph that caught your eye.

Why… Oh! Why? I may have an explanation!

Art is the purest communication of Mystery with the human Spirit.

No one can describe it, no one can encapsulate it. And every artist knows deep down in their heart, against the resistance of their ego, that they have little or nothing to do with their work. It simply passes through the silence of our hands, our fingers, our bodies, and explodes into millions of pieces that we will never even begin to grasp.

No one knows the range of influence their presence has on the planet. Yet, the bull of Altamira has been winking at us for thousands of years without needing anything from its artist.

I repeat: No one knows the range of influence their presence has on the planet.

We know about some, from Plato to Mozart. The names are never important. In fact, the human behind the artist never is. What is transcendent is always the message.

The essential thing about art is its communication with the ineffable. (For those who don’t know what “ineffable” means, it’s a lovely Sunday word to describe what cannot even be imagined.)

Art speaks to your Spirit directly. And most of the time, you have no idea what it’s saying, but it changes you from within, leaving you amazed, touched, and marveling. The sublime and the grotesque alike.

It communicates through time and space. It’s not something the artist can capture. It’s there, despite numbers and statistics, despite wars and terror, despite the brutal boredom of comfort. It’s there, speaking to us through Beethoven and Metallica, through Kandinsky and the Greek who polished the Venus de Milo.

It was there in every dancing step of Isadora Duncan, all disappeared into the mist of time, and unexpectedly we will find it on the common platform of all mortals. In the infinitesimal instant of a chord or a spoken word that moves something, that creates a stir. Or joy, or whatever!

It’s there, through anyone who carries their passion as a banner and allows themselves to be in a state of permanent wonder.

It’s there.

Like Everything always is. Speaking to us.

It spreads like ivy and covers everything with wonders.

In the end, artists are like children who love to play endlessly. , and maybe, just maybe, we are just messengers of Another Voice, reminding everyone the absolute importance of having fun! 

🙂

 

 

Am I a monkey dreaming that I am God? Or a god, dreaming he is a monkey?

mono soñando que es dios, dios soñando que es mono

Monkey dreaming he is god, god dreaming he is a monkey? I don’t think we can ever know the answer, beyond the experience we perceive from one corner of consciousness or another.

monkey dreaming he's god, god dreaming he's a monkey
Stoned Ape – Private Collection.

I have the good fortune to live next to a tropical cloud forest in Monteverde, Costa Rica. And probably the capuchin monkeys in the area are my most constant visitors.

I love to see them, and from time to time, voluntarily or involuntarily, I have given them fruit. And then they come back and back.

I was watching them at length today. On the one hand, from the inevitable painter, and on the other, from the philosopher who seeks in her nervous and small gaze the answers to the only two important questions. “What am I, and what is God?”

Am I a monkey who dreams that I am God? Or a god, dreaming he is a monkey?

The monkey dreams he is God, God dreams he is a monkey

The issue here is that I pay too much homage to Sapiens, this definition in which we are half monkeys and half gods and with which we console all mysteries.

Sapiens is that right? Like a canteen in the middle of an intersection. I can choose the monkey, or I can choose the god. Perhaps that is the only prerogative of our tiny, powerful free will.

If I choose the monkey, I enter the persistent illusion of time.

If I play the god,…Oh! That is not a decision. Because “god” is, in the end, the fucking mystery of consciousness.

The only decision I make – more often than I would like to admit – is to forget about the All that I am in order to concentrate on the small expression of a monkey. The god is not perceptual. What analyzes this is the monkey, always looking for eternities where they have not been lost.

I say “god” like saying “papaya” or “feather” or “number two”. It is a term to define the mystery that I do not understand, but that is there, inevitable. I am aware. There is no way around this tough question. I exist and perceive.

The point is that I perceive even the thought that says I perceive.

The thing is, I don’t know if I ever think anything, or feel anything from the mystery of my consciousness.

I see this… Who? Who sees?

The body… The body sees. No, the body transmits the image. I perceive it… What the fuck is “I”?

Like a drunk-drinking unconsciousness, I perceive myself asking questions, searching for truths. (I only describe here how the consciousness moves). A la Amelie, I can’t help but imagine Ipathia, Plato, Jesus, and Buddha discovering this same truth: “I have no idea what I am. No idea.”

And I have no idea what I’m communicating with. No idea. I call him god. As if saying papaya. The name does not matter. I communicate with something, always. Inevitably. I perceive and communicate.

Do I perceive that I am communicating? I don’t know either.

The monkey dreams he is God, God dreams he is a monkey
Sloth – for sale

I cannot define true communication. It connects, it is an experience. Communication is also illusory.

Beyond communication there is something. There is everything. Beyond is the mystery. The “other” that exists and I don’t know what it is.

Do I feel reverence for that “other”? I do not know. The CM tells me that feeling it is obvious. But how can I revere what I don’t know what it is?

Yesterday I read something that touched me: The skeptic reads all the books and still doubts everything. The religious person reads only one book and does not question anything.

It makes me laugh, because I can put myself in both perspectives, and both are right.

If I think of the Course (that “only” book that came to answer almost all my real questions), the experience of the Course – which is not in itself a pyrotechnic moment – is a permanent solution, a true “washing of sins”, incomprehensible and ineffable.

The permanent result of the forgiveness that defines A Course in Miracles makes it somehow impossible to doubt it. The ineffable experience that you are at Peace with something with which at some point you had a dramatic and violent war? That one? I can neither deny it nor doubt it. I live it, permanently.

First of all, whether “The Other” exists or not, whether we are a biochemical phenomenon separated from everything (even writing it sounds SO primitive to me), whether we are, at last, a monkey dreaming that he is god, the experience of living is present. Incomprehensibly.

And it doesn’t matter in the slightest, who dreams up this pod because Pink Floyd, in their Pulse concert in 1994, is absolutely awesome. 🙂

Thank you for reading me.