"But the principle is: To get love you have to give love."
—Earth to God, Come In Please . . .
by Harold Klemp
The choice between love and power is something that Soul wrestles with life after life. Eventually, Soul learns that love is the key, the answer in all situations. We have a little farm, and it is interesting to watch the play of love and power here.
A bull is power personified. Where a cow will drink from a trough, a bull will work his horns under it and turn it over, just to prove he can. Never mind that he and everyone else will go thirsty, tomorrow he'll do it again and push it halfway down the hill for fun.
We don't normally keep a bull, but Louie was such a gorgeous calf that I decided we'd keep him as a bull. We could breed him, then put him in the freezer before he got too destructive, or so I thought. Louie was a gentle calf, but before his first birthday he discovered power. He began to push and butt, and generally meet the world horns first. It is tempting to counter force with force, but let's face it: no way can I out-power several hundred pounds of bull. So I asked for help from Holy Spirit. From the viewpoint of love, I learned to work around Louie's power instead of meeting him head-on. As I began to do this, I got a lot of quizzical looks. Then, more and more often I found him choosing not to threaten me, as long as I gave him room to make a choice.
In late summer, I put Louie in with the cows, and he fell in love. At milking time, I would shut him and his ladylove in the corral, so so I could work without their "help." One day, when I came back to let them out, Louie had his head resting on her shoulder, with a faraway dreamy look in his eyes and I thought, Someday he will also learn divine love, as does each Soul on the way back to God.
Our goal as Soul is to learn to live our lives filled with love for God and for all life. No matter how mundane our lives, every situation gives us an opportunity to practice love.
—by Jane Hocking
It was a lovely, sunshine-drenched May day in Ketchikan, Alaska, and my daughter's second grade class was excited to be at the beach. Yes, it was Beach Week, and I was a parent volunteer among the young, eager explorers.
After the barbecue and the teaching session (2 Scuba volunteers who came right out of the water with fresh sea cucumbers and a huge sun starfish), the tide pool explorations began. I was walking from group to group of the small beach scouts when I came across Savannha, sitting on a wet, barnacle-encrusted rock. She had a fresh scrape on her leg and a tear in her eye.
"Are you all right?" I said.
She looked up at me bravely. "Let's pretend," she said.
"What?"
"My teacher said, 'Let's pretend it didn't happen and forget about it.' "
Then, as I watched slack-jawed, she got up and rejoined her classmates with a grin on her face. Let's pretend. How amazing is the power of children to instantly change their state of consciousness.
Further on down the beach, I was walking on some rocks with a small boy.
"These rocks are slippery," he said, as he haltingly navigated the rocks, sliding a little.
""Hey," I said, "let's pretend we're mountain climbers."
"Yeah!" he said. And suddenly, he became more sure-footed on the rocks.
Let's pretend. The Mahanta is always with us. So dream a big, bold beautiful spiritual dream. Then let's pretend it's true. Children already know the secret.
—by Michael Fontana