The Hallway by Coreen Walson, ESC.

I can think of no parable that more beautifully describes reality. Here is The Hallway, by my friend Coreen Walson.

Imagine a long hallway, and you are at the beginning of it. And at the other end is a brilliant, white light, yet it is soft and warm, and inviting. And you know intuitively that it is your job to keep focused on this white light. While you are in this hallway, you experience perfect peace, complete satisfaction, a quiet sense of joy and a tremendous sense of gratitude, and a remembrance of your connection to and Oneness with the Creator floods your consciousness. And in this stillness you know that everything works together in perfect harmony, and all that you ever need is effortlessly supplied for you, because it is your Creator’s pleasure to provide all that it’s creation needs and desires. And you are in a state of awe before the grandeur of reality, the perfect balance, the rhythm of life, the perfection, the beauty and the Love the permeates you and your surroundings.

 

And as you begin walking down this hallway, you notice that this hallway is lined with doors. All of them look identical. Then all of the sudden, one of them swings open and there stands your best friend, with a panicked look on their face, motioning for you to come in and look! And because you love your friend, and you are concerned, you enter into the door, and find yourself in a room, where there are chairs lined up facing a movie projector, that is playing a movie called scarcity. And your friend is talking rapidly about how the economy has been hit very hard recently due to a crisis in the housing market, how prices for food and gasoline have gone up, how there is a shortage of food, and jobs are hard to find, and she can’t afford her rent . . . . and you watch your friend point to the movie playing, and you see how agitated she is, . . . and as your eyes become accustomed to the dark in the room, you see people sitting in the chairs, some with their eyes glued to the screen, some have fallen asleep in their chairs because they’ve been there so long. And then you receive a stirring within you, . . . . and a still, small voice reminds you of where you just came from, . . .that feeling . . . where was it . . . oh yes, back outside in the hallway, where all your needs are always provided for effortlessly, where you are safe and loved and cared for. And you try to take your friends arm and go back out the door, but your friend keeps staring at the movie screen, irritated that you aren’t seeing what is right before your eyes. “Look!”, she insists, “don’t you see what’s happening?” “don’t you care?” But as you try to explain what is on the other side of the door, the volume of the movie gets louder, and your friend goes back to the screen, mouth open and eyes full of fear. You realize that you cannot help her, that you must go back into the hallway alone.

 

As you enter into the hallway, the stillness and peace welcome you. You take a moment to allow yourself to readjust from the previous scenes of chaos and calamity to the knowing off the presence of God and His dominion over all. You exhale, and are so grateful to be back Home.

 

As you continue down the hallway further, another door opens and it’s a family member, crying and begging you to come into the room and see. You immediately head for the door to see what’s the matter, and just as you cross the threshold into the room, there was a still small voice that asked you whether that was a good idea, but this is family, and they are crying, and you dismiss the voice and you go into the room, and there on the movie screen are very disturbing and very real looking sick people and scenes of illness and disease, with narrators talking about symptoms and the seasons that people will most likely suffer from these unavoidable illnesses, how long they will last and what medications you can buy to help alleviate your inescapable suffering. You see the fear and horror in the eyes of your family member and you begin telling him that what they are looking at is only a movie being played out on a movie screen, that it isn’t real,   . . you point out that there is, in reality, nothing going on except that he or she is mesmerized by what is playing out in front of them. There is nothing actually taking place, that all he or she needs to do is come out of the room where everyone experiences perfect health. But your family member looks at you like you’re absurd, argues on the side of the scenes of numbers showing high fevers, paled skin color, runny noses and difficult breathing. “Look at the pain these people are in! How can you deny this?! You obviously don’t care, either that or you are delusional.” And with defiance in their eyes, they turn away from you, and you see that he or she has returned to join the others, sitting in their seats, staring at the movie screen, fixated on the images of suffering sense, . . . and again, you feel the familiar tug to go out of this room, and you head back out into the hallway.

 

You continue on a bit further now, again a door opens wide, and your mother steps out, and she looks frail and scared. And she asks you to come into the room with her. And you don’t want to go, but it’s your mother, and your heart wants to reach out to her, and you go in and the movie of unavoidable death is playing. And your mother is wringing her hands, and you go to comfort her. And you want her to come out in the hallway with you, where Life is eternal and she listens to you for a bit. You tell her that her life is complete out in the hallway, that she is spiritual and eternal, you ask her to remember Who made her and that she is not a limited, physical body but a free and perfect spiritual Idea of the Divine Mind that created her. And you think she’s convinced, and she stands up with you, and as you head for the door, she takes another look at the movie screen, and looks back at you, and with great sadness tells you that death is inevitable and that she loves you. You stand there, looking at the screen, and tears well up inside you, but your hand is on the door to the hallway, and you shudder over this moment, as you are being called to remember the Truth of being, all the while being consumed with the sadness and grief on the screen in front of your physical eyes. Just then you hear the still small voice tell you that you are of no real help to anyone as long as you stay in the room. The only place you can help another is from the standpoint of perfection, back in the hallway. If you are in the room, you are accepting the reality of the movie being projected, and you are no longer awake to Truth and Reality. “Aha”, you exclaim as you remember once again the experience of the hallway and with this renewed strength you grab the door handle, and enter back into it.

 

A wave of joy, of gratitude, wash over you, you shed tears in Thanks to an All Mighty God and his infinite goodness as the former pictures are wiped away and you recall the Truth that sets us free.

 

As you continue your journey, new doors begin to open up, some people you recognize, some you don’t. And you acknowledge these people, and sometimes you might strain your neck to see what movie is playing in the room, but you don’t enter into the room. You begin talking to those in the room while standing in the hallway. Some of them slam the door on your face, others listen for a moment and then shake their head and close the door. But you begin to realize that the longer you stand in the hallway, the more certain you are about the truth of being, the more influence you begin to have over those who are in the rooms. They listen to you a bit longer, they notice that there is something different about you, . . a light perhaps, a certainty, a knowing . . something that they recognize in you . . . . . that makes them want to listen to you more, . . . .

 

And then one day, a woman opens a door, and pleads with you to come in to see the “help me my child is dying” movie. And there is not a single part of you that is in the least bit interested in going into that room. But you feel immense compassion for this woman. And you look back up at the light at the head of the hallway, and with this surge of Love and Power, you look her straight on in the face, and you declare to her that what she is standing aghast at is nothing! It is a movie on a movie screen, and nothing more. And that she has the power and authority and ability to walk out of that room any time she wants to! That her life and the life of her child are always perfect, safe and secure with God. That no power exists to end, alter or destroy Life. Life is of God, He is Life itself, Eternal Life, with no beginning and no ending. You share with her the story of your brother Jesus Christ, how he came to prove the nothingness of death, the Allness of Life, that he overcame the grave, and gave us the victory over the illusion of death. And you saw something click in this woman’s eyes, she remembered, . . . . she smiled and without looking back she entered into the hallway with you. She was transformed as she walked out to join you, beauty and holiness radiated from within her, she laughed as she threw her head back and faced the light, she was overjoyed to recall her birthright, and sang out in thanks because she was overcome with gratitude. And you felt something, as you looked down, her child had joined the both of you, and the child took your hand and his mother’s hand, and looked into your eyes, and said “thank you”.

 

And that’s when more Truth began dropping into place for you. Yes! My job here is to stand firmly in this hallway, where I receive all that I need to do the Father’s Will, and to beckon to those who are in these rooms, hypnotized by the pictures. And this desire sprang up, and compassion was in the driver’s seat, and you humbly asked for guidance on how to spring your beloveds out of these rooms. And you heard the following:

 

These rooms are like refrigerator doors. The light comes on inside them only when you open the door, and the light shuts off when you close the door. Like the refrigerator door, the movie in these rooms only start when the door opens and when the doors shut, the movie turns off. This is because the movies, which are only false beliefs being projected outwards, need a watcher, a witness, in order to be seen. A false belief requires a believer to have any influence or power. If there is no believer, there is nothing to the false belief. If there is no witness, there is no movie playing in the room.

So unless there is an observer in the movie room, the movie isn’t playing. And if there isn’t a believer, there is no false belief to mesmerize us. And then came the punch line, you hear in the most sweetest, kindest, most loving voice, “ and by the way, I never created a false believer”.

 

And you take a step back, . . . and you gasp, and the tears fall, and you begin laughing . . . laughing because you realize that you had still been mesmerized yourself while in the hallway, seeing doors with false believers past them, taken in and feeling responsible or concerned for others, . . . . when all along, there is no such thing as a false believer, a false belief, a scary picture, an illness, sickness or death, or a sufferer of an illness, sadness or of scarcity. You see with infinite clarity the perfection of what God is and what God created. The new understanding takes on a vastness, an expansion that goes beyond your physical senses and moves through you and out into everything that you see. You are transformed by the freedom that this Truth brings, and you can’t help but be so grateful that everything that you felt was so real before was nothing but a false concept that you left behind because you know that you have the mind of Christ, and therefore you are not a believer of false images and nobody else is either. What is true for you is true for everyone! And you claim this out loud, and you thank God for it. And then you hear voices from behind you, and as you turn around, there is your best friend, your Mother, your family members, and a host of others that you recollect from the dream, and they are smiling at you, and you are laughing and celebrating with one another, even poking fun at each other, playing like kids and enjoying the Presence of God, the Allness of good, and the absolute nothingness of its supposed opposite. You see the Truth in each other’s eyes, you recognize your Oneness in one another, and you are overcome with Love. There is nothing else. Nothing else matters, nothing else is real, nothing else is acknowledged.

 

And in a moment, you all stop, and look back towards the light, and the most beautiful music you’ve ever heard starts to play, and the walls to the hallway fall away, and you see colors you’ve never seen before above you, and every part of your being comes vibrantly alive and together you hear, “well done, my good and faithful servant” and you are welcomed Home.

Coreen R. Walson

coreenwalson@msn.com

For those of you interested in Coreen’s teaching, she has a great Facebook page with helpful and awesome videos 🙂

 

 

 

The old poisonous story

This night, I saw through the pattern of being “unjustly treated,” “disrespected.”

I saw how I have projected this pattern  –  this part of “my story” – on clients and others (included rapists and insane people from childhood): No – Leelah has not done that – egomind has, in order to secure its status as separate, special, master of its own destiny. It’s not that I attract them – its that I immediately project this story on them and myself, in order to keep my separated self intact. The story is of such magnetic/vibrational magnitude because it is the main story of the world: the innocent victim and the guilty violator.

The projector is me: what a relief to see  that I am “dreaming” this whole story up and making it real, believing in its very realistic appearances and pains.

It is not real: God has never thought these thoughts. It has never happened in reality – in Heaven.

How can I not be respected? I am a reflection of God’s perfection, created in his Image.

I forgive myself for dreaming this impossible dream and for taking the innocent role-part.

I am done fighting Love in this way – how beautiful to just relax into the knowing that I am innocent, and so are the role-players of perpetrators. The degree of perversion and “evil” means nothing: the original pain and fear in the mind came from the Son of God’s belief that the Tiny Mad Idea was real.

I forgive myself for making you act out, so that I can keep my story of “me.”Keep the specialness going.

Holy Spirit, thank you for showing me the complete insanity of the egomind. I don’t want to do it any more.

 

Waking up in the shower

In the shower, I sense chaos subsiding, energies align with clarity.I sense the aura purring like a cat who is stroked. I am aware of some very clear thoughts:

The suffering child/me – and my whole childhood –  is a projection. The memory of the violated suffering little child me is in this moment seen as a construct of ego. I have told myself that I must never betray her, as she was betrayed – meaning I must keep “her” close so I can be there for her if she falls into panic or psychoses. Now I SEE that if I withdraw my investment in the belief that she is ME and that it happened in REALITY, the whole story crumbles and evaporates. There simply IS no “me” to save.

What has given her reality – brought that story into flesh and emotions and vulnerability and victim-hood and me and other, is ONLY  the Holy Son of God’s  choice for the possibility of separation. That choice is taken with the free will that God gave His Son – and so it is manifested.

As the water strokes the aura, I know in gratitude and release that in Truth, there is no suffering, no separation, no victims and predators – there is a false belief in guilt and sin projected into the separated fragments of the One Son. I am not leaving “her” – betraying her – there is no HER other than in my constructed story of separation. I can turn of the projector – I am willing to see clearly.

*

Writing the last sentence, this poem by Thich Nhat Hanh comes to mind.

Please Call Me by My True Names

I have a poem for you. This poem is about three of us.
The first is a twelve-year-old girl, one of the boat
people crossing the Gulf of Siam. She was raped by a
sea pirate, and after that she threw herself into the
sea. The second person is the sea pirate, who was born
in a remote village in Thailand. And the third person
is me. I was very angry, of course. But I could not take
sides against the sea pirate. If I could have, it would
have been easier, but I couldn’t. I realized that if I
had been born in his village and had lived a similar life
– economic, educational, and so on – it is likely that I
would now be that sea pirate. So it is not easy to take
sides. Out of suffering, I wrote this poem. It is called
“Please Call Me by My True Names,” because I have many names,
and when you call me by any of them, I have to say, “Yes.”

Don’t say that I will depart tomorrow —
even today I am still arriving.

Look deeply: every second I am arriving
to be a bud on a Spring branch,
to be a tiny bird, with still-fragile wings,
learning to sing in my new nest,
to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower,
to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.

I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry,
to fear and to hope.

The rhythm of my heart is the birth and death
of all that is alive.

I am the mayfly metamorphosing
on the surface of the river.
And I am the bird
that swoops down to swallow the mayfly.

I am the frog swimming happily
in the clear water of a pond.
And I am the grass-snake
that silently feeds itself on the frog.

I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones,
my legs as thin as bamboo sticks.
And I am the arms merchant,
selling deadly weapons to Uganda.

I am the twelve-year-old girl,
refugee on a small boat,
who throws herself into the ocean
after being raped by a sea pirate.
And I am the pirate,
my heart not yet capable
of seeing and loving.

I am a member of the politburo,
with plenty of power in my hands.
And I am the man who has to pay
his “debt of blood” to my people
dying slowly in a forced-labor camp.

My joy is like Spring, so warm
it makes flowers bloom all over the Earth.
My pain is like a river of tears,
so vast it fills the four oceans.

Please call me by my true names,
so I can hear all my cries and my laughter at once,
so I can see that my joy and pain are one.

Please call me by my true names,
so I can wake up,
and so the door of my heart
can be left open,
the door of compassion.

http://www.spiritualnow.com/

bombs and frenzy

After yet another night of crazy tensions, I prayed to have a dream that would show me what was beneath them. I was seeing a frenzied cat going amok among huge chinks of raw meat = bodies.

Listening inward to Blue, I was hearing that the frenzy came from many memories in this life (and others) – where I have been in situations with frenzy, and identified myself with that experience and terror.

A dream is a dream. I am dreaming this dream. I want to turn off the projector and look with Jesus as what has always been inside the mind.

As I turn inward and ask to align myself with Love, I am reminded how many times I  have experienced unity and Oneness – and how I have known that my experience is truth. It is clear for me in this moment that BOTH frenzy AND Love can not be true. Frenzy belongs to the dream, and from my choice to believe that it was possible to separate from Love. I question that belief, and RIGHT NOW I choose Peace. If these frenzied acts were real – then God is not real.

I am not responsible for what happened after the decision to believe in the TMI. I am  responsible for choosing to accept the solution to this – the miracle.

In Oslo, 5 hours ago, a terrorist attack was launched in the Government area. The Prime Minister and the Government is safe. The city is bombed, a looks like it. My daughter called with thin voice to ask if I was alive.

The same man who had placed the bomb – an ethnic Norwegian with Christian fundamentalist view –  then drew to a youth summer camp, dressed as a policemen, told the children he was there to save them – and then he shot 84 of them.

Both frenzy and Love can not be true. Thank You Holy Spirit for working in me to help me see all of this differently.

Right now I am sitting under the Bodhi Tree with the Buddha and looking at Mara’s very convincing razzledazzleworks. I am grateful that we are there together.

Please note that nothing written here is intended as medical advice. Readers who think that they need help with a physical or psychological condition are advised to seek a qualified opinion.

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