Dark Night of the Soul - I'd heard about it and read about it and wondered if were real … was it just the feverish imaginings of weak-minded cretins wanting attention? I didn't know.
Well, I've been and gone and done it and I know just how real it is though, sitting here in my sun-drenched bed, enjoying breakfast next to my lovely wife while I write this, two days later, it all seems a distant dream.
Anna and I came to England declaring, first and foremost, this would be an experience of God; an experience of coming closer to God. As we knew, through Jesus' A Course in Miracles (ACIM), we cannot look for and find love (God); we can only look for and release the blocks to love. As we do, the love we are is revealed in all its glory. The spiritual journey is not, then, a jolly skipping through the sun-dappled woods with happy fairies and smiling trees to wave us on. No, it's hard work - the hardest work I've ever done. ACIM says it takes just a little willingness but Ken Wapnick, an ACIM teacher of 40+ years, suggests that Jesus was understating things a little. Ken's been doing it, daily, for over 40 years and Anna and I have been doing it daily for nearly six years. It has not been jolly skipping at all. In every moment we show a little willingness but every moment for six years adds up to a great willingness … and it's worth it!
As we journey into ourselves the blocks to love (peace, joy, freedom, abundance and everything else we desire deeply) reveal themselves. As I do this, my anger and addictions rear their ugly heads in monstrous form and I have no choice but to face them, acknowledge them and ask for help to release them. Sometimes this help seems a long time coming and, while it does, I realise just how much I enjoy being angry and judgemental and I don't like myself for that. So, then, I don't have just anger as a block, but it's joined by the blocks of love of anger and then the judgement of myself for the enjoyment of something dysfunctional. If the help had come any sooner, the last two blocks might not have been revealed.
When we started on this overseas trip we knew all this (mainly in theory) but actually thought it would be a jolly skipping around Europe and it hasn't been that at all. At times it's been sheer bloody hell. We've had an amazing time seeing things, meeting people and doing things we could never have done in New Zealand. But I cannot find a job, we've used all our money and we're living on credit cards and hope. With no government hand-outs available to us, we've been brought to our knees, financially, and the demons - guilt (past), sin (present) and fear (future) - have been growing steadily more grotesque and frightening by the day … well, at night, mainly.
Then, two nights ago, they threatened to devour me and I was lost in their dark thrashing madness, blaming myself for our past, dreading our future and perceiving the worst of myself in every moment of my life. I was an abject failure with nothing to redeem myself and my only possible future was one of deep shame and a beggarly existence.
These screaming, screeching demons tore at my ears with their viscious condemnation and played gruesome pictures of the unremitting poverty that was to be my lot. I tried to blot them out but the more I did, the louder they shrieked and the more lurid was the spectre of my future shown. I was exhausted but they wouldn't let up. And nor would I. I fought back with every fearful fibre of my soul but they persisted. For two nights we battled one another - little me against the hungry army of discontent.
Eventually, I could fight no more and collapsed back into the pillow and gave up … and smiled. As I gave up, gave in, they softened. I warily looked up, in my mind's eye, and their ferocity abated as little. I took in a breath of courage and faced them, open-eyed and defenceless. They melted a little more.
I acknowledged them, listen to them and agreed with them. I admitted I had a deep loathing of my self - of my dreaded shame, guilt and fear. I'm not sure why I did this but it came to me to ask each one to show itself. I chose each silly financial decision I'd ever made and asked each demon guardian to step forth. I went through each decision, each money-wasting event and, as the guilt for each was called forth, I waited. Suddenly nothing happened. It did happen suddenly and it was nothing that happened. As I faced each of my ever-so-real guilts and fears (past and future) they dissolved as phantoms in the morning light.
ACIM tells us this is what we must do - look for the blocks to love, face them, acknowledge them and ask for help to release them. I had tried it before but it had seemed theoretical - a good idea but not very real.
Well, the news of the day, ladies and gentlemen, is that it's as real as it gets and the more I resist looking inside, the worse it seems. Eventually it becomes so bad I've just got to face that screeching ugliness and, when I do, it quietly vanishes to leave me with an exhausted body and an empty, light-filled mind. From the cowering, terrified creature I was two days ago, I have been helped to become a defenceless and invulnerable wee happy chappie … and so light I could fly … aaahhh!
And now to Atrhur Bayly's story, continued from the previous blog ...
And so Arthur spent the next half hour explaining that as they seem to have been followed and as the Atkinson case was actually about the Immigration Minister, Mary had tried to arrange Arthur's interview with the Lord and Lady with the utmost secrecy.
"Oh my gosh, Arthur, I didn't realise it was that Atkinson," said Joan, clapping her hands gleefully. "You certainly do move in exalted circles." Any previous apprehension seemed to have been dissolved by immersion in excitement and intrigue. Arthur went upstairs and assembled all his papers - again and again - while Joan spoke to Dottie on the phone.
""Come on, Arthur!" called Joan from downstairs, "I've made you a nice cup of tea to calm your nerves."
"OK, OK," said Arthur, who felt he had done so well concealing his nerves.
As they were drinking their tea, with Joan assuring him he would be fine and safe, there was a knock at the door. Toby, in very efficient and assertive manner, had their clothes changed, Arthur's papers in his tool box and Arthur out the door and on the street before Arthur could draw breath. There was nothing else to do but get into the van so he strode over and opened the door … well, he tried but it was locked. Confused, he looked back at his house and saw Josh's hand, in front of the net curtain, waving frantically at him, pointing up the street. The penny dropped. Wrong van. He wandered nonchalantly up the street, in the direction of Josh's finger and tentatively tried the door of the next van. There was an older man, with a black woollen hat pulled low and overalls, in the passenger seat.
"Welcome Arthur, and I'm terribly sorry I can't help you with your bag - this arm's a bit useless at the moment," said the man, chuckling. Arthur noticed his right arm was in a sling. "Bit embarrassing but you're in the right van now!"
"Uh, yes," said Arthur, feeling quite stupid and knowing full well James Bond would never make such an error. Maybe he was not cut out for this kind of stuff. Though he didn't believe in omens, if he did he would have recognised it as a bad one.
"Right, my man, let's get this show on the road, as they say," said the man. "Dashed exciting, really, isn't it, my man. I've never done this sort of thing before - usually have my chauffeur drive me around. However, we should be able to find ourselves out of this place, eh what! Belt up and let's get moving, shall we?"
"Yes, yes, of course," said Arthur, thankful for some direction, since his brain had none at that moment. He belted up, started up and indicated that he was pulling out … except that the wipers went instead of the indicators.
"Oh!" said Arthur, his brain unable to formulate any more coherent words. However, they were soon underway with the man directing from a map on his lap. They did manage to find themselves at the same point on the Croydon overpass three times and they chuckled together, a brotherhood of errors. Eventually, they were soon headed south to Kings Wood.
"Right, Arthur Bayly, I should introduce myself properly, now we've negotiated the tricky part," said the man, taking off his hat. "I'm Lord Atkinson. Pleased to meet you, old chap and we'll have to dispense with the hand-shaking, obviously. Let's just take it that we've shaken, shall we?" He raised his plastered arm a little and Arthur nodded and smiled. Arthur had vaguely suspected it was the Lord but was afraid to confirm by asking. Arthur noted that he had been promoted from my good man to old chap.
"Now, old chap, our estate is just round the corner here," said Lord Atkinson. They turned left off the main road and were suddenly passing beneath a massive stone archway as the gates opened for them. The hundred-yard, gravel driveway wandered through manicured gardens and curved in front of a three-storey Georgian mansion. Arthur noticed two gardeners working away. A butler opened the door for Lord Atkinson and then came around to Arthur's side to suggest that he could park the vehicle for him, if he preferred.
"Oh, yes, of course," said Arthur, as if this happened every day of his life.
A second butler ushered them through ten-foot, oak doors, through a marble and oak reception area at the bottom of a curved stairway that led, it seemed to Arthur, to heaven. He had little chance for further inspection as he was then whisked into a cavernous drawing room that, despite its size, had been filled to overflowing with furniture, statues, ornaments, paintings, books and all manner of collectible things, leaving little room for the lady who was sitting on one of several circles around the stone fireplace. The fire crackled happily and she stood and smiled warmly as Lord Atkinson introduced Lady Atkinson to Arthur. She came up to him and he suddenly realised he was supposed to kiss her on both cheeks, something he'd seen on television. He managed it adequately.
The Lord suggested a cup of tea, to which Arthur assented, despite the three he had already had that morning. He really wanted to a toilet stop but was hesitant to ask. The Lord then excused himself to change his clothes and asked Arthur if he would like to refresh himself. With a flood of relief, Arthur was led by the butler into a bathroom the size of Arthur's dining room, all tiles and gold and with plumbing worse than he'd experienced. He did manage to get the toilet to flush, after much pumping, but was unsure if he did an adequate job of it.
Well, I've been and gone and done it and I know just how real it is though, sitting here in my sun-drenched bed, enjoying breakfast next to my lovely wife while I write this, two days later, it all seems a distant dream.
Anna and I came to England declaring, first and foremost, this would be an experience of God; an experience of coming closer to God. As we knew, through Jesus' A Course in Miracles (ACIM), we cannot look for and find love (God); we can only look for and release the blocks to love. As we do, the love we are is revealed in all its glory. The spiritual journey is not, then, a jolly skipping through the sun-dappled woods with happy fairies and smiling trees to wave us on. No, it's hard work - the hardest work I've ever done. ACIM says it takes just a little willingness but Ken Wapnick, an ACIM teacher of 40+ years, suggests that Jesus was understating things a little. Ken's been doing it, daily, for over 40 years and Anna and I have been doing it daily for nearly six years. It has not been jolly skipping at all. In every moment we show a little willingness but every moment for six years adds up to a great willingness … and it's worth it!
As we journey into ourselves the blocks to love (peace, joy, freedom, abundance and everything else we desire deeply) reveal themselves. As I do this, my anger and addictions rear their ugly heads in monstrous form and I have no choice but to face them, acknowledge them and ask for help to release them. Sometimes this help seems a long time coming and, while it does, I realise just how much I enjoy being angry and judgemental and I don't like myself for that. So, then, I don't have just anger as a block, but it's joined by the blocks of love of anger and then the judgement of myself for the enjoyment of something dysfunctional. If the help had come any sooner, the last two blocks might not have been revealed.
When we started on this overseas trip we knew all this (mainly in theory) but actually thought it would be a jolly skipping around Europe and it hasn't been that at all. At times it's been sheer bloody hell. We've had an amazing time seeing things, meeting people and doing things we could never have done in New Zealand. But I cannot find a job, we've used all our money and we're living on credit cards and hope. With no government hand-outs available to us, we've been brought to our knees, financially, and the demons - guilt (past), sin (present) and fear (future) - have been growing steadily more grotesque and frightening by the day … well, at night, mainly.
Then, two nights ago, they threatened to devour me and I was lost in their dark thrashing madness, blaming myself for our past, dreading our future and perceiving the worst of myself in every moment of my life. I was an abject failure with nothing to redeem myself and my only possible future was one of deep shame and a beggarly existence.
These screaming, screeching demons tore at my ears with their viscious condemnation and played gruesome pictures of the unremitting poverty that was to be my lot. I tried to blot them out but the more I did, the louder they shrieked and the more lurid was the spectre of my future shown. I was exhausted but they wouldn't let up. And nor would I. I fought back with every fearful fibre of my soul but they persisted. For two nights we battled one another - little me against the hungry army of discontent.
Eventually, I could fight no more and collapsed back into the pillow and gave up … and smiled. As I gave up, gave in, they softened. I warily looked up, in my mind's eye, and their ferocity abated as little. I took in a breath of courage and faced them, open-eyed and defenceless. They melted a little more.
I acknowledged them, listen to them and agreed with them. I admitted I had a deep loathing of my self - of my dreaded shame, guilt and fear. I'm not sure why I did this but it came to me to ask each one to show itself. I chose each silly financial decision I'd ever made and asked each demon guardian to step forth. I went through each decision, each money-wasting event and, as the guilt for each was called forth, I waited. Suddenly nothing happened. It did happen suddenly and it was nothing that happened. As I faced each of my ever-so-real guilts and fears (past and future) they dissolved as phantoms in the morning light.
ACIM tells us this is what we must do - look for the blocks to love, face them, acknowledge them and ask for help to release them. I had tried it before but it had seemed theoretical - a good idea but not very real.
Well, the news of the day, ladies and gentlemen, is that it's as real as it gets and the more I resist looking inside, the worse it seems. Eventually it becomes so bad I've just got to face that screeching ugliness and, when I do, it quietly vanishes to leave me with an exhausted body and an empty, light-filled mind. From the cowering, terrified creature I was two days ago, I have been helped to become a defenceless and invulnerable wee happy chappie … and so light I could fly … aaahhh!
And now to Atrhur Bayly's story, continued from the previous blog ...
And so Arthur spent the next half hour explaining that as they seem to have been followed and as the Atkinson case was actually about the Immigration Minister, Mary had tried to arrange Arthur's interview with the Lord and Lady with the utmost secrecy.
"Oh my gosh, Arthur, I didn't realise it was that Atkinson," said Joan, clapping her hands gleefully. "You certainly do move in exalted circles." Any previous apprehension seemed to have been dissolved by immersion in excitement and intrigue. Arthur went upstairs and assembled all his papers - again and again - while Joan spoke to Dottie on the phone.
""Come on, Arthur!" called Joan from downstairs, "I've made you a nice cup of tea to calm your nerves."
"OK, OK," said Arthur, who felt he had done so well concealing his nerves.
As they were drinking their tea, with Joan assuring him he would be fine and safe, there was a knock at the door. Toby, in very efficient and assertive manner, had their clothes changed, Arthur's papers in his tool box and Arthur out the door and on the street before Arthur could draw breath. There was nothing else to do but get into the van so he strode over and opened the door … well, he tried but it was locked. Confused, he looked back at his house and saw Josh's hand, in front of the net curtain, waving frantically at him, pointing up the street. The penny dropped. Wrong van. He wandered nonchalantly up the street, in the direction of Josh's finger and tentatively tried the door of the next van. There was an older man, with a black woollen hat pulled low and overalls, in the passenger seat.
"Welcome Arthur, and I'm terribly sorry I can't help you with your bag - this arm's a bit useless at the moment," said the man, chuckling. Arthur noticed his right arm was in a sling. "Bit embarrassing but you're in the right van now!"
"Uh, yes," said Arthur, feeling quite stupid and knowing full well James Bond would never make such an error. Maybe he was not cut out for this kind of stuff. Though he didn't believe in omens, if he did he would have recognised it as a bad one.
"Right, my man, let's get this show on the road, as they say," said the man. "Dashed exciting, really, isn't it, my man. I've never done this sort of thing before - usually have my chauffeur drive me around. However, we should be able to find ourselves out of this place, eh what! Belt up and let's get moving, shall we?"
"Yes, yes, of course," said Arthur, thankful for some direction, since his brain had none at that moment. He belted up, started up and indicated that he was pulling out … except that the wipers went instead of the indicators.
"Oh!" said Arthur, his brain unable to formulate any more coherent words. However, they were soon underway with the man directing from a map on his lap. They did manage to find themselves at the same point on the Croydon overpass three times and they chuckled together, a brotherhood of errors. Eventually, they were soon headed south to Kings Wood.
"Right, Arthur Bayly, I should introduce myself properly, now we've negotiated the tricky part," said the man, taking off his hat. "I'm Lord Atkinson. Pleased to meet you, old chap and we'll have to dispense with the hand-shaking, obviously. Let's just take it that we've shaken, shall we?" He raised his plastered arm a little and Arthur nodded and smiled. Arthur had vaguely suspected it was the Lord but was afraid to confirm by asking. Arthur noted that he had been promoted from my good man to old chap.
"Now, old chap, our estate is just round the corner here," said Lord Atkinson. They turned left off the main road and were suddenly passing beneath a massive stone archway as the gates opened for them. The hundred-yard, gravel driveway wandered through manicured gardens and curved in front of a three-storey Georgian mansion. Arthur noticed two gardeners working away. A butler opened the door for Lord Atkinson and then came around to Arthur's side to suggest that he could park the vehicle for him, if he preferred.
"Oh, yes, of course," said Arthur, as if this happened every day of his life.
A second butler ushered them through ten-foot, oak doors, through a marble and oak reception area at the bottom of a curved stairway that led, it seemed to Arthur, to heaven. He had little chance for further inspection as he was then whisked into a cavernous drawing room that, despite its size, had been filled to overflowing with furniture, statues, ornaments, paintings, books and all manner of collectible things, leaving little room for the lady who was sitting on one of several circles around the stone fireplace. The fire crackled happily and she stood and smiled warmly as Lord Atkinson introduced Lady Atkinson to Arthur. She came up to him and he suddenly realised he was supposed to kiss her on both cheeks, something he'd seen on television. He managed it adequately.
The Lord suggested a cup of tea, to which Arthur assented, despite the three he had already had that morning. He really wanted to a toilet stop but was hesitant to ask. The Lord then excused himself to change his clothes and asked Arthur if he would like to refresh himself. With a flood of relief, Arthur was led by the butler into a bathroom the size of Arthur's dining room, all tiles and gold and with plumbing worse than he'd experienced. He did manage to get the toilet to flush, after much pumping, but was unsure if he did an adequate job of it.
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