In The Midst Of A City

OCT. 13, 1981, 11:17 AM
WASH., D.C., PARK, 15TH & K

This is no quiet place of meditation, o son. The sounds and movements of the city are all about you, but you could find no quiet place (no room in the inn), and you, by chance or by purpose, have the time for this morning teaching, so let us try it in the midst of a city and its bustle.

You are here after a long night of driving, spiced with fantasies that all included this spiritual direction of yours. Consider that a test: can you devise an “acceptable”, exciting fantasy that does not have these teachings, your “mission”, and some hypothesized way in which they are used or how your life is affected by this reality? Increasingly you’ll be unable to do so. Their importance, in comparison with other directions and possibilities, continues to increase. You’re just not as “free” as you used to be!

A city like this is a welter of activities, goals, and counteracting realities. As you look it is easy to wonder where I am, whether I am needed as this day of life unfolds and develops. Yet you also know that many of the people you see have had spiritual experiences, serve Me in some variety of ways, or will soon be surprised by some happening that encompasses the spirit. But which ones? Why does this not show? You are sitting on a bench, listening to Me, and writing My words. Does anyone observing you or passing by have any notion of what you are doing? Do you look at all “spiritual” as you meditate thusly? Is there a way of looking spiritual? (You also realize that you have a day and a half’s growth of beard… wouldn’t most people consider this anti-spiritual?

The incredible noise of the fire truck seems necessary for it to make its way through the busy street. There is so much simultaneous activity that getting attention and affecting some desired movement is difficult… usually must be extreme. This is not too unlike My efforts to truly affect spirits of individuals. There is so much going on in life, so many competing forces, that My gentle calls often go unheeded. So I am not adverse to using experiences comparable in blatancy to the loud fire machine to affect this earth… even this city.

This is a city. There are stories behind most of the windows, in most of the cars, in most of those who walk. Some live with tragedies that try the spirit… some of these grow and some lie overwhelmed. Some smile and walk briskly because of feelings reflecting joy, peace, and at-one-ness. Most feel some of both and have looks reflecting ambivalence and confusion. What is life about anyway? Is God really responsible for that? And what about this?