I recently applied for a job as editor for a magazine based round The Secret. Like most things, The Secret is not the whole answer on how to achieve our full potential with peace and joy. Nevertheless I felt that, through the medium of the magazine, I could help to inspire many, many people to realise and live the greatness that they are.
Then, two days before the interview, I discovered that the magazine’s owner, my potential employer, had been less than honest with many, many people. Living in a luxury home with a luxury car and a luxury lifestyle, he had taken other peoples’ money to invest on their behalf. That money seems to have disappeared without trace or explanation. Wages have remained unpaid for many years, as have a number of creditors.
We’re talking about large sums of money, very large sums, but the amounts, to my mind are irrelevant. Even the non-payment of wages and promises is not so bad, in the scale of things – we all make mistakes and, sometimes, people find themselves out of money for all sorts of reasons.
The difficulty I have with this person’s actions (and not with him) is that he denied that he had lost huge sums of money – despite the clear evidence – and there was no apology or contrition. Promises he made on national television were not kept and he would not take responsibility for making or breaking those promises.
This man is a devout Christian – something he boasts about on his website, his FaceBook and LinkedIn profiles and other public places. He’s very proud of his Christianity. I’m sure, however, that if Christ ever made a mistake – intentional or otherwise – he’d fess up, take responsibility and do his best to make amends.
Not so this Christian. This, of course, does not make Christianity wrong. It simply tells us that some Christians are not walking their talk.
While I was discovering these “interesting” facts about this man, this potential employer, I also discovered that one of the presenters in The Secret DVD had been arrested for manslaughter. Again, this does not make The Secret wrong – it just means that one of The Secret’s adherents, one of its faithful, was not walking his talk.
The lesson I take from this is – a lesson we all know but need reminding of, from time to time – is that no philosophy can save us or give us enlightenment, success, peace or whatever else we’re looking for. Whether it’s Christianity, The Secret, Buddhism, Hinduism or any other philosophy, they are all only part of the story.
“So, what’s the other part?” you may ask.
“The other part is us.”
When you point at something, a dog will look at your finger and a human will look at what you’re pointing at. If you want to be dog-matic, you’ll make your philosophy or religion your answer. If you want to grow as a human, you will look at what your religion is pointing at – God.
And, verily I say unto thee, God makes no demands and has no rules – he simply welcomes us back as prodigal sons. God does not force his/her prodigal sons to return home – we have to be willing to return. We have to be willing to practice being the Christ within us and walk the daily human walk – stumbling, forgiving, making amends and trying again.
Using the principle that’s common to The Secret and to Christianity, I know that if I want an employer who tries to walk his talk, then I must first do that.
And so, today, I’m walking.
And now, how is Mary Collins walking? Her story is continued from the previous blog ...
"Maybe it's a ruse by Sam to put someone off his scent …" said Ahmed, interrupting.
"You mean he sent those people after you to save his skin?" asked John, incredulously. "He wouldn't do that, would he?"
"No, no, I've got a feeling … just a feeling, mind," said Angus as he lifted out paper after paper. "There's something here we missed last night. I'm sure of it."
"I wish you were right …" said Mary.
"Hey! I bloody am, Mary girl!" exclaimed Angus, holding a sheet up towards the window as the March sun tried faintly to shine through. "Look, look what's written …"
"But we've read all that stuff … well, skimmed through it, anyway," said Mary, interrupting him while peering at the upheld sheet and munching her last sausage.
"Nah, yah silly bird!" said Angus, chuckling. He shuffled closer to her, being careful not to spill the remaining breakfast from his lap. Everyone else moved closer. "Don't look at the words, the typed ones. Look at the … aah, I don't know what you call it … like a watermark or something."
"Yes, yes, I can see it, Angus," said Belinda. "It's faint but there's definitely words sort-of inside the paper. She grabbed more sheets from the briefcase and handed them round. "See if there's any more like it."
They all held sheets up to the light while carefully balancing plates of food and cups of tea and coffee on their knees. Then the phone screamed through their fervour and, immediately, everyone dashed into the fray, tossing breakfast remains and paper aside to plunder pockets and bags in search of mobile phones … all except Angus who reached over and picked up the hotel phone.
"Hello? Ah, I'm Angus. Who is this? Sam, Sam who? Sam …"
"Oh Sam, Sam!" said Mary, snatching the phone from Angus. "Where are you? I waited for your call …"
"Yes, yes my dear, I'm sorry I wasn't able to call as promised," said Sam, interrupting her. "But here I am! Would you mind awfully if I popped in now? I'm at your apartment so where are you from there?"
"Oh Sam, it's so nice to hear your voice," chirped Mary. "And you're out, you're free …"
"Mary, Mary, please tell me where you are. I may not have much time," said Sam quickly.
"Right, yes, sorry," said Mary who then gave him the name and whereabouts of the hotel, along with their room number. Sam hung up immediately while Mary held the phone to her ear still, cherishing the sound and though of him being free and near. Then the fears moved in - would he be interested in her, would he be a changed man, would he …
"Where's Sam, Mary?" asked Angus, interrupting her thoughts. "When will he be here?"
"Soon …" said Mary with the silent phone in her hand while her mind floated off in some other-worldly reverie.
"Soon? God, you bloody English are hopeless, aren't you!" said John, playfully punching Mary's arm. "Ask an Englishman 'how long' and he'll tell you 'not long'. Ask an Englishman 'how big?' and he'll tell you 'quite big'. Ask an Englishman 'when?' and he'll tell you 'soon'. Getting facts out of an Englishman is like extracting teeth from a beggar's bum!"
"John, you forget you're married to an English person," said Belinda, laughing. Awkward laughter from the others.
"I can't forget that love!" said John, putting his arm around Belinda. "Charm, politeness, culture, history - you've got it all. But looking for a fact in an Englishman … or English woman … is like looking for courtesy in a French driver." Abandoned laughter from the others.
John's tirade was interrupted by a knock at the door. The laughter stopped while everyone looked at each other. The chances of very good news and very bad news were equal and no one was prepared to open the Pandora's Box the door represented.
"Can I come in?" asked Sam and Mary flashed to the door with unaccustomed rapidity. She opened it to a haggard, slightly untidy and thinner Sam than she'd known before. She faltered, seeing the same Sam she saw last night, now in the clear light of morning.
"Yes, Mary, my dear, the full light of morning reveals all," said Sam, smiling lopsidedly while apparently reading her mind.
"Oh, Sam, do come in," said Mary, recovering but unsure whether to give into her urge to hug him or to behave a little more correctly in front of her Regional Director and other assorted people.
Sam wrapped himself around her but her body wouldn't move. Was this really happening, she wondered, after all this time? Was this the real Sam Lord, the friendly, affable, sophisticated, off-hand Sam Lord she'd known, wanted, desired?
"Am I being too forward, Mary?" asked Sam, releasing his hold a little. The loosening of his hold activated her arms, somehow, and she grabbed him with a ferocity she'd not known before.
"Not too forward, Mr Sam Lord, just too bloody backwards for words!" said Mary into his grimy shirt, smiling through her tears.
"I don't know why it takes a crisis for us to realise we don't live forever," said Sam, relaxing gently back into her. "There just may not be a tomorrow to do and say all those things we've always planned to … oh, Mary, I've been through a tiny bit of hell and I'm not going through anything else, hell or heaven, without telling you how much I … aah …" He stood back with his hands on her shoulders, looking into her eyes. "Okay, here it is, my dear, I need to say …"
"Watch out!" yelled Angus and John together as they dashed across the room with Ahmed in close pursuit. With a perfect All Black tackle, John felled Mary and Sam as Angus fell over the three and Ahmed's pistol boomed in the plush suite. A yell came from the corridor and a white man dropped and a tattooed, brown one, eyes wide and mouth open, faltered in indecision.
"You mean he sent those people after you to save his skin?" asked John, incredulously. "He wouldn't do that, would he?"
"No, no, I've got a feeling … just a feeling, mind," said Angus as he lifted out paper after paper. "There's something here we missed last night. I'm sure of it."
"I wish you were right …" said Mary.
"Hey! I bloody am, Mary girl!" exclaimed Angus, holding a sheet up towards the window as the March sun tried faintly to shine through. "Look, look what's written …"
"But we've read all that stuff … well, skimmed through it, anyway," said Mary, interrupting him while peering at the upheld sheet and munching her last sausage.
"Nah, yah silly bird!" said Angus, chuckling. He shuffled closer to her, being careful not to spill the remaining breakfast from his lap. Everyone else moved closer. "Don't look at the words, the typed ones. Look at the … aah, I don't know what you call it … like a watermark or something."
"Yes, yes, I can see it, Angus," said Belinda. "It's faint but there's definitely words sort-of inside the paper. She grabbed more sheets from the briefcase and handed them round. "See if there's any more like it."
They all held sheets up to the light while carefully balancing plates of food and cups of tea and coffee on their knees. Then the phone screamed through their fervour and, immediately, everyone dashed into the fray, tossing breakfast remains and paper aside to plunder pockets and bags in search of mobile phones … all except Angus who reached over and picked up the hotel phone.
"Hello? Ah, I'm Angus. Who is this? Sam, Sam who? Sam …"
"Oh Sam, Sam!" said Mary, snatching the phone from Angus. "Where are you? I waited for your call …"
"Yes, yes my dear, I'm sorry I wasn't able to call as promised," said Sam, interrupting her. "But here I am! Would you mind awfully if I popped in now? I'm at your apartment so where are you from there?"
"Oh Sam, it's so nice to hear your voice," chirped Mary. "And you're out, you're free …"
"Mary, Mary, please tell me where you are. I may not have much time," said Sam quickly.
"Right, yes, sorry," said Mary who then gave him the name and whereabouts of the hotel, along with their room number. Sam hung up immediately while Mary held the phone to her ear still, cherishing the sound and though of him being free and near. Then the fears moved in - would he be interested in her, would he be a changed man, would he …
"Where's Sam, Mary?" asked Angus, interrupting her thoughts. "When will he be here?"
"Soon …" said Mary with the silent phone in her hand while her mind floated off in some other-worldly reverie.
"Soon? God, you bloody English are hopeless, aren't you!" said John, playfully punching Mary's arm. "Ask an Englishman 'how long' and he'll tell you 'not long'. Ask an Englishman 'how big?' and he'll tell you 'quite big'. Ask an Englishman 'when?' and he'll tell you 'soon'. Getting facts out of an Englishman is like extracting teeth from a beggar's bum!"
"John, you forget you're married to an English person," said Belinda, laughing. Awkward laughter from the others.
"I can't forget that love!" said John, putting his arm around Belinda. "Charm, politeness, culture, history - you've got it all. But looking for a fact in an Englishman … or English woman … is like looking for courtesy in a French driver." Abandoned laughter from the others.
John's tirade was interrupted by a knock at the door. The laughter stopped while everyone looked at each other. The chances of very good news and very bad news were equal and no one was prepared to open the Pandora's Box the door represented.
"Can I come in?" asked Sam and Mary flashed to the door with unaccustomed rapidity. She opened it to a haggard, slightly untidy and thinner Sam than she'd known before. She faltered, seeing the same Sam she saw last night, now in the clear light of morning.
"Yes, Mary, my dear, the full light of morning reveals all," said Sam, smiling lopsidedly while apparently reading her mind.
"Oh, Sam, do come in," said Mary, recovering but unsure whether to give into her urge to hug him or to behave a little more correctly in front of her Regional Director and other assorted people.
Sam wrapped himself around her but her body wouldn't move. Was this really happening, she wondered, after all this time? Was this the real Sam Lord, the friendly, affable, sophisticated, off-hand Sam Lord she'd known, wanted, desired?
"Am I being too forward, Mary?" asked Sam, releasing his hold a little. The loosening of his hold activated her arms, somehow, and she grabbed him with a ferocity she'd not known before.
"Not too forward, Mr Sam Lord, just too bloody backwards for words!" said Mary into his grimy shirt, smiling through her tears.
"I don't know why it takes a crisis for us to realise we don't live forever," said Sam, relaxing gently back into her. "There just may not be a tomorrow to do and say all those things we've always planned to … oh, Mary, I've been through a tiny bit of hell and I'm not going through anything else, hell or heaven, without telling you how much I … aah …" He stood back with his hands on her shoulders, looking into her eyes. "Okay, here it is, my dear, I need to say …"
"Watch out!" yelled Angus and John together as they dashed across the room with Ahmed in close pursuit. With a perfect All Black tackle, John felled Mary and Sam as Angus fell over the three and Ahmed's pistol boomed in the plush suite. A yell came from the corridor and a white man dropped and a tattooed, brown one, eyes wide and mouth open, faltered in indecision.
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