Thursday
This, the Equivalent, or Whatever Would Be Better
"When we release our deliberate intention, we rest in the willingness to receive "this, the equivalent, or whatever would be better," which settles the matter in our mind about further expression, including expression in fact.
It reminds us to release our will and stay released.
Now, this does not mean that we're to accept anything that comes along as automatically better, even if we don't feel that it is. Rather, it means that we're willing to release all willfulness, all urgency, all attempts to coerce or manage the form and timing of corresponding fulfillment in fact.
There are cases where, for reasons we may not see, not getting what we've deliberately intended would be better than getting it; keen Field training students recognize the paradox here: Release of deliberate intention means we're both willing to have what we've intended and willing to not have it. This isn't a contradiction, because being willing to not have is not the same as not being willing to have.
Receptivity must be there; we must be willing to receive. Resolve must be there---the resolve to remain true to the fulfilled identity no matter what may speak against it. But there's no way around the need for the unconditional release of our will, which means there can be no clinging, as clinging keeps the project within the limited jurisdiction of Particle will.
This may be challenging in cases where we don't believe that anything else could be better. Nevertheless, complete release of the will is essential---a release facilitated by our remembering that if the corresponding fulfillment turns out to be something better than we've envisioned, then we'll recognize it as better, and as the fulfillment of our deliberate intention."
(Field training)
It reminds us to release our will and stay released.
Now, this does not mean that we're to accept anything that comes along as automatically better, even if we don't feel that it is. Rather, it means that we're willing to release all willfulness, all urgency, all attempts to coerce or manage the form and timing of corresponding fulfillment in fact.
There are cases where, for reasons we may not see, not getting what we've deliberately intended would be better than getting it; keen Field training students recognize the paradox here: Release of deliberate intention means we're both willing to have what we've intended and willing to not have it. This isn't a contradiction, because being willing to not have is not the same as not being willing to have.
Receptivity must be there; we must be willing to receive. Resolve must be there---the resolve to remain true to the fulfilled identity no matter what may speak against it. But there's no way around the need for the unconditional release of our will, which means there can be no clinging, as clinging keeps the project within the limited jurisdiction of Particle will.
This may be challenging in cases where we don't believe that anything else could be better. Nevertheless, complete release of the will is essential---a release facilitated by our remembering that if the corresponding fulfillment turns out to be something better than we've envisioned, then we'll recognize it as better, and as the fulfillment of our deliberate intention."
(Field training)
Sunday
Beat Your Drum
Question: "Do I have a responsibility to make the whole world beat to my drum?"
Abraham: No, nor could you. You beat your drum,
and the Universe will respond
to the drum that you are beating…
There are as many different worlds being lived
by as many different perceivers of the world
as there are.
Abraham-Hicks
Abraham: No, nor could you. You beat your drum,
and the Universe will respond
to the drum that you are beating…
There are as many different worlds being lived
by as many different perceivers of the world
as there are.
Abraham-Hicks
Wednesday
Keep the Faith; Lose the Hope
...from the Field Center
Many of us may spend long stretches hoping for something—
hoping that things will work out with someone else,
hoping for the best, hoping against hope, and so on.
And, while hope certainly is better than hopelessness
at least as far as the attendant feeling goes,
it has nothing to do with deliberate creating,
and in Field training terms, it actually works against
our deliberate engagement of our creative authority.
Because the world around us and everything we see in it
is the effect of our inner life,
hoping for something amounts to waiting for the world
to utter a magic word that only we can speak.
So, our waiting may keep us from outright despair,
but the problem is that the world also is waiting,
and must wait exactly as long as we do.
Florence Scovel Shinn tells the story of a young man
in one of her classes who always tried to come up with
questions she couldn’t answer.
One day, he asked, “Why is it then that a lot of women
who have hope chests never get married?”
(A hope chest is the traditional store of linens
and other household goods
that women used to acquire in anticipation of marriage).
Florence replied, “Because it is a hope chest,
and not a faith chest.”
Anticipation, like hope, looks to the future,
and in this respect alone,
abandons the only time that reality can be claimed,
which is right now.
Faith claims the thing as already done,
and rests fully in the feeling of that now
—and it is this claim, now, in the living present,
that has the power to fulfill itself.
Hope not only misses the creative opportunity of the present
but also exports the authority of creatorship to the thing created.
Imagine a writer who sits at his desk all day
looking at a blank piece of paper,
and when asked by friends what he is doing,
replies, “I’m hoping a book will be written.”
We may laugh at this writer’s confusion of cause and effect,
but aren’t we doing the same thing when, for example,
we hope that we will recover from an illness,
or that someone else will like us in a special way,
or that money will show up before the rent is due?
In the great story of our life, each of us is the writer.
We cannot dictate the timing, ways and means,
or exact form of fulfillment,
but we can choose who we are and refuse to settle for less.
We can stop hoping for happy endings along the way,
and instead, write them deliberately in the language of our belief.
By doing this, by aligning inwardly
with whatever fulfillment we want,
we not only immediately feel good, but also set into motion
everything needed for the realization of whatever we’ve claimed.
source
hoping that things will work out with someone else,
hoping for the best, hoping against hope, and so on.
And, while hope certainly is better than hopelessness
at least as far as the attendant feeling goes,
it has nothing to do with deliberate creating,
and in Field training terms, it actually works against
our deliberate engagement of our creative authority.
Because the world around us and everything we see in it
is the effect of our inner life,
hoping for something amounts to waiting for the world
to utter a magic word that only we can speak.
So, our waiting may keep us from outright despair,
but the problem is that the world also is waiting,
and must wait exactly as long as we do.
Florence Scovel Shinn tells the story of a young man
in one of her classes who always tried to come up with
questions she couldn’t answer.
One day, he asked, “Why is it then that a lot of women
who have hope chests never get married?”
(A hope chest is the traditional store of linens
and other household goods
that women used to acquire in anticipation of marriage).
Florence replied, “Because it is a hope chest,
and not a faith chest.”
Anticipation, like hope, looks to the future,
and in this respect alone,
abandons the only time that reality can be claimed,
which is right now.
Faith claims the thing as already done,
and rests fully in the feeling of that now
—and it is this claim, now, in the living present,
that has the power to fulfill itself.
Hope not only misses the creative opportunity of the present
but also exports the authority of creatorship to the thing created.
Imagine a writer who sits at his desk all day
looking at a blank piece of paper,
and when asked by friends what he is doing,
replies, “I’m hoping a book will be written.”
We may laugh at this writer’s confusion of cause and effect,
but aren’t we doing the same thing when, for example,
we hope that we will recover from an illness,
or that someone else will like us in a special way,
or that money will show up before the rent is due?
In the great story of our life, each of us is the writer.
We cannot dictate the timing, ways and means,
or exact form of fulfillment,
but we can choose who we are and refuse to settle for less.
We can stop hoping for happy endings along the way,
and instead, write them deliberately in the language of our belief.
By doing this, by aligning inwardly
with whatever fulfillment we want,
we not only immediately feel good, but also set into motion
everything needed for the realization of whatever we’ve claimed.
source
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)