It Is Perfect

If everything were already perfect and there was nothing left to strive for, then what would you do? Does it ever feel like the life you want is visible, but just out of reach, and that you are at some convergence of getting close to it and not getting it at all?

Most of us exist in a state of being where we believe everything we see, touch, feel, hear, and taste is real, and we wonder why it is that we can't get to the thing or place or experience that we want. We have somehow convinced ourselves that the way to fix things is to...well, fix them.  But we never will. That isn't possible. That isn't what's real. It's like seeing a photograph of a broken toy and trying to fix the toy by fixing the photograph.

When did we lose the knowledge that the only thing that is real is love and the only means to it peace and joy? How did we let that wisdom wither?

The Course in Miracles says that this world we experience with our physical senses is an illusion.  It is a construct we've created out of our misplaced alignment with fear. It is what we have made so that we can keep our selves contained inside physical bodies that seem to be real and seem to be separate from each other, me over here and you over there, because somewhere along the way we forgot that there is really only one of us here. That sounds preposterous if you believe with your physical eyes.  But at some level - where we can see through other eyes -  we know it's true. We tell ourselves that the joy and elation we feel in dreaming, laughing, dancing, and loving is an illusion. In the end, "reality" will set back in, we say. But the Course tells us that we have it backwards. It is peace and joy that are real. What we call reality is the illusion we have made because we are more comfortable with fear and separation than with love and oneness.

Buried deep there is something in you that knows it's true. Like most of us who aren't enlightened masters, you go through each day with a vague sense of knowing you just don't have it quite right, that you somehow aren't who or where you're supposed to be, but you're not sure even what that would look like. But there is something in you that knows that you're supposed to be more connected.  Still you find it easier to criticize than to sympathize. It's more comfortable to keep your distance than to draw close. It seems more natural to point out differences than to find similarities with those who are "other." You know what it means when I use the term "other." And you wonder why you still ever feel lonely. Or afraid of anything. Or directionless. Or not good enough.

The truth is, we are perfect. Not the "we" we have made for ourselves, but the "we" that we were made to be- in reality.  The truth is, we are nothing but love. The truth is, we are one, because there is only one of us, and what you do for another you do for yourself - because there is no difference. The two are the same. The two are one.

So, you see, there is nothing left to strive for. We are perfect already. The only reason for this physical existence is to learn what it is we aren't, so that we can begin to reassemble - to
re-member - who we are. I am you, and you are me, and we are one. That's what love is for, and it is what love becomes. And every time you feel, show, or give love, you have reassembled one more piece. You know how it feels. How could that feeling ever be the illusion? The illusion is made clear whenever what we feel is NOT love. And that is just another chance to shine the light of reality - love - into the darkness that is fear, separateness, and desolation. You don't have to throw your arms around everyone you see. You don't even have to like them. But you can see them for who they are - a reflection of you, because you are the same - and love them, just like someone, somewhere, loves you.