A few months ago, I wrote what may turn out to be my last poem. There's a part of me that that would love to put together more words, this time to tell you how we are one, how you and I are a universe, all by ourselves, a singularity that split itself in two in order to experience tango. How it isn't only you and I that make up a universe, but you and her, me and him, as many combinations (or permutations) as you can imagine, and more, because there are enough dimensions that we can each hold hands with everyone at once.

But I keep thinking that the truth is bigger than anything that can be captured, not just by me, but even by great artists, even by Madeline L’Engle or Ursula K. Le Guin. I once loved their stories, yet now it seems like fiction and poetry are distractions, spoonsful of sugar to make a materialist, world-bound life tolerable.

I have to agree with Daniel Pinchbeck, who says that “most contemporary fiction, like most current film, has an increasingly retrograde quality.” It’s evidence of our past, like old high-heeled shoes, left over from before we realized we deserve better. It’s time to let go of our tendency toward “inciting and then placating the desires and fears of the individual ego.” 

I am trying to really get it. I know--we all know, by now--that our intention is very powerful. All we have to do is focus, pay attention, and anything we choose is ours. But there's the problem: what do we choose?

I've talked to folks who've just been exposed to ideas like the ones in "the secret" (ideas that have been around for a long time, by the way). They begin to look for things they can manifest. "Oooh! What should I get? A girlfriend? A car? A million dollars? The possibilities are endless!"

But there's a catch. You really have to want it. You have to really want it.

So, sure, it can work. If you can convince yourself that your highest vision of who you are is "a hot chick driving a cool car" you will manifest that. If your vision is of a writer who's sold a million copies, made a million bucks, you'll manifest that.

But what happens to those of us who can't really believe, in our hearts, that our highest vision looks like that? We wander around wondering why, even though we believe this stuff, even though we know it, we can't seem to make anything happen.

I've worked on learning to live in abundance for years now. I'm still working on it. What I've noticed is that taping a note to my ceiling, or to my bathroom mirror, or chanting mantras about abundance--these things don't make the difference. They don't, because no matter how many of those things I try, my highest priorities don't involve money. And what I've learned is that you can only manifest your highest priorities.

Those highest priorities, your highest vision of yourself, are going to be different for everyone. To find yours, think about what you'd like people to say about you. If you want your tombstone to say "She drove an awesome car," you're well on your way to manifesting that vision. But if that doesn't sound right to you, maybe it's time to put yoru energies toward something different.

I have discovered (finally!) that my highest vision for myself is pretty simple. It's to remember myself as a spark of the divine fire. To speak to the heart. To choose love over fear.

Now that I'm beginning to get used to manifesting these things, I'm getting the sense that another vision is forming: I'm a spark of the divine fire, speaking to the heart, choosing love over fear, and I have all I need. Now that's a vision I can get behind!

I'm liking Jesus better all the time. At least, I'm liking the Jesus that's forming in my mind. Once I got a clear understanding of love...

It's what holds everything together, and it's the everything too!     -- Rumi

...I began to have an easier time seeing the light in stories about Jesus. Especially the stories in the Gospel of Thomas.

It is I who am the light which is above them all. It is I who am the all. From me did the all come forth, and unto me did the all extend. Split a piece of wood, and I am there. Lift up the stone, and you will find me there.

-- Jesus, according to the Gospel of Thomas

I'm thinking about this now, because a couple of guys sat near me at the coffee shop this morning, and it turned out they were a local preacher and a travelling missionary. They wanted to know if I'm a believer. Wow. How do I answer a question like that?

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and decided to tell them the truth, as best I could. Turned out my best wasn't quite right. I said "Yes, I'm a believer, but I'm not a Christian." At one point, I added, "I'm liking Jesus better all the time." But still, they couldn't really hear me, or engage in a conversation.

Once they left, I put some thought toward how hard it was to communicate with these men. I think that both my authenticity and their comprehension were compromised by the demon that hung in the air between us. That demon was the construct they carry around, the belief they hold in hell, and in permanent separation from divine love.

I am almost looking forward to the next time I find myself in a conversation like this. Maybe I'll have learned something? Maybe I'll even be able to outshine them, as I tell them what I really think about God's love. Maybe they'll feel it. Maybe.