watering the weeds
Watering the weeds
By Summer Bacon
“Going through life is like playing a Mozart piano concerto in public while trying to learn the instrument as you go along,” my friend, Burt, wrote in an email to me. We had just reconnected after 41 years, and after our “catch up on the past” emails, we started chatting about our life views.
I had to reread his comment a few times, and once it sunk in I giggled. Yup, we’re all just doing our best to navigate our way through life, I thought. I also giggled at the irony that I was listening to Mozart’s Sonata for 2 Pianos in D major, K. 448: I. Alagro con spirito when his email came in.
Burt has a brilliant and curious mind, and he fired off question after question to me about my channeling and spiritual beliefs, to which he was completely new.
“What’s it like being dead? To me that would be a logical question. What do people do when they’re dead? Do they socialize, wander like the spirits in A Christmas Carol? How do they pass time? I mean, they have lots of time, right?” he asked.
“They do stuff just like we do, but they don’t have all of the hangups and fears about death, because they know that there’s no such thing. They learn new skills, cook, have gatherings, counsel people on earth, etc. I believe that child prodigies actually learned their skills on the other side, then came to earth to wow people,” I replied.
“Do you mean child prodigies are actually the dead returned somehow to life? Why would they cook? Do dead people need nourishment? Why would they?”
“People come back to earth for a variety of reasons; to right wrongs, learn more about love, etc. ‘Dead’ people don’t have to eat, but they can. It’s a ‘create your own reality’ thing that I know is hard to understand.”
Then, when I told him how God speaks to me, Burt’s response made it apparent that, at his core, he hadn’t changed much in his opinions about himself: “The only voice that I hear says, ‘Don’t be an such an idiot.’” I felt sad when I read that. He is anything but an idiot. So, I replied, “I’m pretty sure the voice that is telling you that you’re an idiot, isn’t God.”
After 41 years, he is still self-deprecating and down on himself, although he is an extraordinarily talented writer and musician. Next, he wrote, “I bet you were/are a good mom. I often think I'd have made a terrible father. Too self-centered/selfish.”
I replied, “You’re still so hard on yourself! You have a whole lot of caring, squishy soft spots for others, whether you believe it or not. :) I’m a fan.”
Shortly after, he replied, “You have a marvelous way of making things sound just right. But for me to think like that would be making excuses for myself. (Glad you're a fan.)”
Then I responded, “Well, to me, focusing on your faults is like only watering the weeds in your garden. So, I’ll just keep pointing out the beautiful flowers, fruits and vegetables, and maybe someday you will see them.”
I wish I could help people see and feel the far reach of God’s unconditional love for all of us. I wish I could help everyone learn to love themselves unconditionally. But, unfortunately, that’s not something I can do for anyone. Truly knowing that God’s love is real and constant is experiential. And, as with any experience, such as a trip to the beach, or learning to become an Olympic gymnast, it takes effort and willingness to make it happen.
Meanwhile, Burt can keep watering the weeds, and I'll keep pointing out the beautiful flowers, fruits and vegetables to him.
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