"Make This Year Different..."

A few thoughts on Christmas and 'A Course In Miracles.'

Most of the sections on Christmas in A Course In Miracles were actually dictated to Helen by Jesus around Christmas time. In Chapter 15, for example, there are two, "The Time of Rebirth" and "Christmas as the End of Sacrifice". At the end of the latter, there is a line that seems especially fitting for the new year: "Make this year different by making it all the same." This is basically a plea from Jesus to us to try, as best as we can, to make everything the same, meaning, not to make distinctions between the parts of the sonhip. As the lesson of forgiveness is in every situation, in every encounter and in every circumstance, so is the opportunity to make everything in our lives infused with the same purpose: To learn to look at our egos without judgment and to let go of the seeming differences between ourselves and others. If we start, slowly but surely, to 'make it about them' rather than about us, making it about the people in our lives and not so much about our own imagined needs, we learn that our interests of escaping our ego thought system of separation, sin, guilt, and fear are shared by everyone and everything. Ultimately, the acceptance of Jesus' love for us is something that we all need, despite our resistance against it and despite our ego telling us that there are people out there that do not deserve this love, as if they were not part of the sonship but somehow outside. We are reminded that each time we cast someone out, we are casting ourselves out and shut the door to our own peace and the experience of love we so long for. "Make this year different by making it all the same" becomes the mantra reminding us of our purpose of looking with Jesus at all the differences we see in each other and smiling at them, knowing that they have absolutely no reality whatsoever. As it states in the introduction:

"Nothing real can be threatened.
Nothing unreal exists.
Herein lies the peace of God."

The Golden Hall

Copyright 2009 by Stefan Bolz

I see a great golden hall perched high on top of a hill with white marble walls and golden pillars in front. There is an engravement above the large wooden entrance door. It says: The Call For Love. Inside the great hall, mounted to one of the walls, is a large, thick plate of gold. Thereon is written:

The call for love is made and answered for all by all.
The names are legion. But behind each one is the same
fervent call for God. The call takes many shapes, appears
in many religions, colors, cultures, languages, and countries.
You can find it everywhere. In every pain and fear, in every hurt
and hurting, in every friend and foe, in everything that lives
and everything that seems to have no life at all. It is in you
as well as it is in me. It is in your father, in your mother, in your
sister, and your brother, in your son and in your daughter; in
your policeman, your major, your car mechanic, your carpenter
and your president; It is in prisoners and guards, in soldiers, in
husbands and wives, in doctors and lawyers, in rich men and poor.
It is in everything because it is in you. The shape does not matter.
It may conceal the call but onlyif you wish it so. The call is there,
present always, waiting to be answered so that peace can come to
every heart, so that love can make a home throughout the world
at last. The call for love is made and answered for all by all, from
you to everyone and from everyone to you.

My Life's Script

Copyright 2008 by Stefan Bolz

At one of the 'A Course In Miracles' workshops I attended, one of our teachers suggested for us to, at some point, go to the place in our mind where we had written the script for this our life. This is, of course, much easier said than done. And he knew it too. Never the less, about 12 years later, a few months ago, I thought why not try it now. I had been going into some inner landscapes with my therapist for a while and I thought this might be the best environment to try to get to a point where I could see this place, and maybe even the script I had written for my life. I had no idea what to expect and tried not to have any expectations (of course, trying NOT to have any expectations usually brings about the opposite).

So, when I sat down with my therapist, I asked her, kind of out of the blue, for a piece of paper to write on because I had this strange symbol in my head and I wanted to put it on paper. It looked somewhat like the above image and I couldn't make anything of it at first. I also had no idea what it had to do with my script.

After we went through some relaxation I started to concentrate on the image. For a while nothing happened. Then it occurred to me that I was looking at it from above. High above. And suddenly it was embedded in a landscape that I looked at from a bird's perspective. I realized that what I saw wasn't a drawing at all. It was the top of what appeared to be a large pyramid or a Mayan temple. The top was square and the image I saw was actually the entrance to a round opening, not unlike a well. The lines across the crescent shaped object were steps going downward.

And now I started to see the temple from the side. Very long stairs went straight up on the outside of the temple to the plateau. I saw myself on top of the temple looking back down the long and steep stairs. This, I thought, symbolizes my spiritual journey. "I came to this point only to go back down again?" I asked myself. This moment of frustration dissipated relatively quickly though. I was always convinced that a spiritual journey is a journey of preparation and nothing else. Climbing up the long and steep stairs on the outside of the pyramid somehow prepared me for the next step - to enter the opening and climb inside.

I followed the path toward the large opening. With large I mean about 300 feet in diameter. The pyramid itself was about 1200 feet high. The view of the valley below was magnificent. I looked at the vast opening which was basically a black, round hole. After a moment, I started to descend down the stone stairs that seemed to just come out of the wall. I wasn't aware at first that there was water - all around the perimeter of the opening and flowing down the walls into nothingness. After a while I realized that to make only one full circle would bring me way down below the line of light and into complete darkness. I started to just set one foot after another and went from bright light to twilight and into a blackness so complete, I couldn't see a thing in front of me.

I was suddenly afraid I would accidentally step off the stairs and fall. The only thing stopping me from falling was the sound of the water that ran down the wall. I could hear it next to me and realized that if I just stood close to its sound, I would probably be fine. I thought for a moment that the water was my guide - like love on a spiritual quest - guiding me and keeping me from stumbling into utter darkness.

For a while nothing happened. Just one step after another. Then, without any forewarning, the stone stairs suddenly ended and I stepped into nothingness. For a moment I was suspended, hovering in the air - until I fell. As I fell I saw that I fell from the ceiling of a massive cave. The arch of the ceiling spanned at least a mile in either direction, touching the horizon far in the distance.

There was a very intense light, like the light of the sun, streaming down from a point in the arch and illuminating the landscape below. Beams of light spilled onto the hills below. As I landed gently on the grass I looked up and saw the now very small opening high above from which I came.

I started to walk and after only a few minutes I saw a large leather bound book lying in the grass. I sat down in front of it and opened its cover. I knew that this was what I was looking for. My life's script. There was just one word in the middle of the first page. Small, lower cased, typed in 12 point font, it said "Alone". I looked at the word thinking briefly about some of the times in my life when I felt alone. It was mostly after my parents separated. I was 11 and I stayed with my father. "Alone". I know this feeling very well. Not that I experience it all the time but I am definitely familiar with its feel, its emotional footprint on my soul.

I turned the page. Again, just one word. "Separate". The white page around it made the word even more prominent. I turned the page again: "Abandonment". I turned the page again: On the left side I saw names. Hundreds of names. As I read through them I realized that these were all the people I knew. From when I was in kindergarten through school and my teenage years into adulthood and up until now. The page was filled with names, including my parents, former girlfriends and wives, my son, my sister, my friends, etc. On the opposite side of the page stood but two words: "Find me".

I turned the page again. On the left side was a spreadsheet - or something very similar to it. It showed amounts: amounts I owed on credit cards, my mortgage payments, several tax returns, bank accounts, expenses, incomes, etc. The page was filled with numbers. Basically a summary of my financial situation. On the right side again just two words: "Find me".

I turned the page again. On the left side was the drawing of Da Vinci's Vitruvian Man. On the right side, the same two words: "Find me". The remainder of the pages was empty. "This is it?" I thought. "This is my life's script? Alone, separate, abandonment, and 'find me'?"

I closed the book and as I looked up there was a massive cross hanging suspended in the air in front of me about 50 feet above the ground. It was made out of light, emitting a slight glow against the grey sky. As I looked around, I saw behind me a wooden bench, like the ones you find in a church. I sat down on it. As I sat there, the bench suddenly started to extend to the right. Another bench appeared in front of me, then one behind me. More appeared until there were two rows of benches, just like in a large church. I sat quietly for a while, by myself, close to the middle isle. I thought this must have been the remnants of an old cathedral at some point. No walls were left, just the benches, the altar and the golden cross in the sky.

Now, one by one, people appeared on the benches. There were colleagues of mine, present friends, my parents, best friends from high school, my son and his mother, my girlfriend and her daughter, a few clients of mine, some people I only met once in my life but had some kind of a connection to, and others. The 'church' filled with people before my eyes. It was the most beautiful thing to watch. Everyone sat there in deep reverence. The faces I looked at were completely free of any fear, conflict, or sorrow. There was no pain in them, whatever each of their situations had been before. There was, on each of the faces, a deep expression of gratitude, honor and love. Gone were any past conflicts, hurts, wounds, and disappointments. It felt that on this holy ground we were on, where we all came from did not matter. Our past never was, and all of us were in a state far beyond our small selves. Each of the faces was so incredibly beautiful that I started to cry. There was nothing between us except complete understanding that we were not separate, that abandonment was impossible and that we could never truly be alone.

I sat there for a long time looking at the faces, being deeply touched by the expression of utter love on each one of them. Slowly, out of nowhere, I heard a chorus in the background. It wasn't really singing. More like a humming. One single note from all of us reaching towards the heavens, uniting everything within its glorious grace.

No More Crumbs

copyright 2008 by Stefan Bolz

There is a line in A Course In Miracles I find myself thinking about often these days: "You don't expect too much from life but far too little". As I look at myself, I realize that, right now, I am accepting crumbs. I have to admit that, by and large, I am content with the scraps and left overs of life. I am cowering under a table filled with everything imaginable, but waiting for pieces here and there to drop to the floor. Barely enough to survive yet not quite enough to live. I mean this on all levels. Emotionally in relationships with others. Physically with money and work. And spiritually. I am too embarrassed and too ashamed to stand up and join the beautifully set table in the large magnificent dining hall of life. All my brothers and sisters are there. This meal, provided to us by love itself, has everything we need and plenty of it. But my thoughts still evolve around the idea that I am not a prince amongst princes but a thief, unworthy of lifting my eyes and beholding the sheer beauty of life's promise. I can barely function in this self proclaimed state of being. How could I? I am not made to cower. I am made to stand up with my head held high - not to distinguish myself from others but to join them in their magnificence. I am not made for scraps. I am made to accept my inheritance, my glorious self, our glorious Self. I could join my family at the table. But right now, I'm angry instead. Angry at the crumbs, angry at the ones who drop them, angry at myself for letting me get to this point of unrewarding existence within my tiny kingdom of lies. They are lies, for at some point I traded true magnitude for littleness. They are lies because I am content with scraps so I can blame 'them' for not giving me enough. I accept the lie within me that it is my fate to live this way. Who am I to get up and take my rightful place at the table? Who am I to betray all the others who are down here with me waiting for scraps themselves? Who will I be without this gaping hole within my soul? This reminds me of Emmilou Harris's song 'Orphan Girl': "But when he calls me I will be able to meet my family at God's table. I'll meet my mother, my father, my sister, my brother. No more an orphan girl.
Truth is, it is freedom I fear. It is love and it is freedom. It is true happiness that sends cold shivers down my spine. I am accepting crumbs, for my inheritance as a child of God is too threatening for me to accept. 'It is time for the frog to become a prince', a good friend of mine once told me. I am still waiting... waiting for a miracle to come. But while I wait for myself, I declare here and now that I will no longer accept the crumbs but that I will rather fix my eyes at the empty chair at the table. That I will stand up and accept my true identity: a prince, beloved son of a loving Father within a Kingdom ruled by Love Itself.

The Dome

copyright 2007 by Stefan Bolz

I stand inside a high dome. The surface of its walls are smooth, black, with tiny little lights covering them. Like the night sky with millions of stars, blinking, shimmering against the dark ceiling and illuminating every inch of the dome in soft light. I stand with my back against the wall. On the other side of the dome, about 300 feet across, stands a figure. I cannot make out who it is as I look at it. My arms are stretched out sideways and pinned against the wall as if held by a magnetic force of some kind. It is impossible for me to move them. From a distance, I must look either as if I am crucified or as if I am welcoming whoever comes to me with open arms.

The figure starts walking toward me - not fast, just steadily. I can feel waves of love emanating from it. It is actually not a feeling at all. It is an experience so all encompassing that everything else, my past, my present and future, my identity, my self as I know it, has lost its meaning, without leaving a vacancy. The boundaries of "me" and "I" are no longer in existence. Tears rise up within me, push themselves into my eyes and run down my cheeks. Steadily the figure comes closer. I become aware, suddenly, that I am trying to move my arms. I’m trying to get them off the wall. With every step, my attempts become more intensified. Now I see that the figure is Jesus. He is half way across the large dome and the closer he comes, the more I try to get… my arms… to MOVE!!!

Suddenly they are free and I wrap them around myself in an embrace as if to protect myself. As I do this, the very moment my arms loose contact with the wall, all the lights in the dome, the thousands and thousands of little stars, go out. Complete darkness engulfs me. I stand, my arms wrapped around my own body in complete blackness. There is no sound. I can’t see him or hear him any longer. Pitch black.

It feels oddly comforting. Cold, suspended somehow, but strangely comfortable. But I can’t stay like this. I’m not even here. Where is here? Too long have I lingered in the dark, too long have I hoped for the light to come.

Slowly, carefully, as if not to disturb the air around me, I open my arms. It is as if I am opening my self to the darkness around me. As I reach the point where my arms are almost stretched out, the magnetic force pulls them back toward the wall. The pull is firm and controlled. It does not hurt at all. The moment my arms touch the surface of the wall, the lights come back on, all at once. There is no loud noise. No flash of lightning. The lights just come back on and everything is illuminated.

The light itself is soft. Kind. Gentle. Almost nurturing. But make no mistake. For within its reach, there is absolutely no place for me to hide. So, I stand there, arms open, looking at Jesus who slowly starts walking toward me again. Waves of love. I am sobbing, at times seeing only an outline of color and light and not him. As he comes closer, I turn my head away. As if sitting in a dentist chair and just before the hand holding the high speed drill reaches my mouth, I turn my head, trying to avoid the unavoidable.

“Please. Don’t come closer.” I beg him. “Stay where you are.” The waves of love are overwhelming. Vast. Incomprehensible. And utterly unmanageable. He stops, stands still. “Go back, ”I say. I so much want to pull my arms from the wall again but somehow I don’t. “Just stay there. Don’t move!!!”

I look at him 30 feet away, tears streaming down my face. I can hear myself whispering, “No, please, no, I’m not ready. Not at all ready for you or for what you represent. I’m not ready, I’m not ready, I’M NOT READY!!!”

And with that, and cutting through the intense love, pushing it away, forcing it to stand down, there is suddenly sadness, so complete, leaving no space for anything else, and piercing me like a thousand knifes.

And so I stand, under the stars, my back against the wall, sadness clenching my chest, unable to let him in, let love be what it is, accept it, become it.

How long I will stand here, I do not know.

How long is one moment in eternity?

Brothers (Christmas)

copyright 2007 by Stefan Bolz

Watch with me Angels
Watch with me tonight
The stars are slightly brighter
The heavens filled with light

Tonight the search has ended
And sorrow is no more
Tonight we step away from death
And through an open door.

Where you and I are brothers
And enemies no more
Where you and I fulfill each others
Promise, not in war

But in the love He gave us
And held within His heart
And from this love, my dearest friend,
We cannot be apart.

Ice Cave

Copyright 2007 by Stefan Bolz

I am kneeling, cowering, on the cold smooth floor, my hands over my bold head. My feet are black from dirt. They are cold, haven’t been warm in a long, long time. A single ray of sunlight streams from the small opening high up in the cave’s ceiling. A prison cell. Isolation. Abandonment. Cold fury.

Most of the day I spend in the shadows, glancing at the beam of light, too afraid to go there and too afraid to stay. The instant I can bring myself to enter its radiance, I cower to protect myself from its tremendous heat and brightness. My eyes are closed, my hands and arms give little shelter and protection from its merciless intensity.

Love—Pure, uncompromising love—entering, no,
forcing its way into each and every open pore of my body. I will not look up. Here is my home, my very existence, my protection, my armor and my life. I will forever stay. My feet almost disappear into the surface of the ground. What is to gain in looking up? My eyes will bleed and blinded I will go back into the shadows from which I came.

I will not lift my eyes. I will spend eternity in here if I have to, longing for the light but too afraid to break the spell I placed upon myself.
Freedom lies not there but in here. Here, down here, I am free, for only in darkness sure protection lies.

But I have longed. I have longed since I can remember. How can I long for something and be utterly afraid of it at once? My hands are covering my ears, trying to still the sweet, sweet melody the light emits. Please let me go. I can not reach the opening high up in this my self proclaimed imprisonment. For if I could, I would close it and no ray of light would disturb my ‘peace’. So I could live forever in darkness undisturbed.

How long? How long until I will allow myself to stand, to lift my eyes and arms to welcome my most precious, most beloved self? I do not trust its gentle voice, its soft whispers. Words so ancient, spoken so long ago that I forgot their loveliness. I forgot the breath of air, the filling of my lungs with freedom’s scent. I forgot so long ago that I turned love into my enemy, freedom into imprisonment and hope into despair. ‘I love you’, it whispers, like the summer wind caressing a field of flowers in the setting sun. ‘I love you for I am you’. There is no meaning in these words.

There is too much meaning in these words.
For if I would speak them, there would be no turning back, not a single thought were to remain. My past would be gone, my future would be no more and now would be all there is.
Do I dare? Do I dare to even let the possibility, the slightest consideration enter my tomb?

Who would I be?
How would I be?
Would I be?