The Things That Happen
Blog Post #6
“God is Love. Every saint who has penetrated to the core of Reality has testified that a divine universal plan exists and that it is beautiful and full of joy." –Paramahansa Yogananda
A member of The Healing Art of Writing class that I attend wrote about the effect an apartment fire had on a rose bush. She described watching and waiting to see if the bush would survive the hasty cleanup that covered it indiscriminately with fire-scorched debris. The end result for this nondescript rose bush, the author said, was inexplicable.
Her story provided a clarifying example of what my mind had been pondering for several days: “The things that happen to us do not matter. What we become as a result of them does.”* Using the premise of her story, I wrote an assignment – from the perspective of an inanimate object – to illustrate that thought-provoking statement. Presented below is that assignment. The bold text reflects words taken from the original story.
Defined as complete trust or confidence in someone or something, faith is expressed as positive thinking.
I will meditate on Thy all-pervading cosmic sea of unconditional love and resurrect the glowing, joyful divinity of my soul.
Remember the rose that witnessed the apartment fire? I am that rose. I saw the flames. I felt the searing heat. I sensed the occupants’ fears. I know devastation first hand.
I suffered broken limbs as debris was hurled at me, piled up on me, with no concern at all for me. Unprotected, I was subjected to their turmoil as if I was worthy of the impact of their emotional distraught. I thought they loved me. They planted me, fed me, took care of me. I heard them say they loved me. I heard them admired my beauty. This burning experience, of pain and negativity, suggested otherwise.
I was hurt. I looked as dead as I felt. I knew what dying was. Another traumatic experience was now mine. I suppressed it deep within me until it became a part of me, a sharp thorn on a slender stalk. I sulked deeper into the scars inflicted by this ordeal, wounded and ashamed – of who they were, of who I was.
Lingering in the lowest depth of being, where time is quiet and timeless, a thought occurred to me, grace from a place beyond, like answered prayer – had I been wise enough to pray. What was this thought? What resonated as truth within my heart? “What happens to us does not matter. What we become as a result of it does.” *
And I wondered, what could I become? Something that seemed like hope was prodding me inside. Soft gentle rains, commingling with my tears, caressed me. The warm light of the sun was empowering. Even the earth itself was feeding the belief that I should live. But what would I become?
A new day dawned! Of course, I would become what God had destined me to be, the best that I could be. Determined effort took hold. I grew 3 feet, startling everyone including myself. It was not easy. It took effort and faith. There were storms with thunder and lightening but I was intent on affirming life, of seeing the presence of Good in it all. As I resolved to be love itself my color changed, emphasizing the new me; the me that would not be limited by past circumstance; the me I changed into when my thinking changed.
The ashes of this experience, visible all around me, nourished me to become the best version of myself. I defied the odds stacked against me. I became the love that was right inside of me. Now, when people look upon me they see what I became – an impressive sight – a rose all dressed in scalloped petals of deep pink delight. All because of that incendiary night.
“What happens to us does not matter. What we become as a result of it does.” – Sri Gynamata *
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