The Light Inside

10th May 2011 Tuesday

I’m running late this morning. I didn’t want to get up. I’m sitting cross legged on the hard futon in my study reading A Course in Miracles. It looks like I’m reading but really I’m listening to the clattering of pans downstairs - my husband in the kitchen - and also my clamouring thoughts about him.

My thoughts - all guilty - are something like this -

‘I should be having breakfast with him.’

‘I don’t spend enough time with him’.

‘I can’t bear his loneliness, his sadness.’

‘He’s going to be late for his appointment’.

‘I wonder if he has taken his vitamins yet.’

What I’m reading says ‘projection makes perception’.

I’m beginning to see how it is my own fear of loneliness, of abandonment, of apathy, of lateness that I throw onto my husband. Where it sticks like sticky mud and so I think now my hands are clean and he is the muddy one.

Then a tiny idea comes to me, slips in under my terror radar - another way of seeing him. Just for a moment I imagine him humming in the kitchen, making his breakfast, listening to the news, watering his seedling on the counter, full up with a glowing golden Light.

So I know I don’t have to worry about him. I can trust he is protected, guarded, guided and directed by this Light - now and always. And just for a moment, deep in my belly, feel it is true.

I hear him putting on his shoes to go out and I run downstairs and stand on the last step, waiting for him.

‘I want to give you a hug for your day,’ I say.

‘Can I give you one too?’ he says. ‘ It’s going to be a good day today.’

And he walks out into the morning beyond our yellow door, into the sunshine, carrying the Light inside him.