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The Healing Light

An unusual thing happened to me today. When I woke up this morning, a voice told me that if I wanted to heal enough to get better and become a healer, I had to imagine that the light of God was glowing within me, healing me. Now consider that I’ve never not believed in a God, or many. Rather, I spent much of my early teen years as an agnostic; changed to an atheist, punk, and practitioner of magick in my late twenties; then to a Buddhist in my late 30s. Well, more of a Broodist punk monk than a Buddhist.

But this was one of those unusual kinds of waking events which I’ve previously learned not to ignore. When I did many hours of meditation daily in my late twenties, and was studying Jewish magick (Kabbalah) alone, against the advice of a Jewish friend, I woke up many, many mornings with revelations about the world. I stopped telling people about this, including my father, because they thought I had either gone insane or was schizophrenic. Along the way, I stopped practicing my yogic form of meditation, replaced with Buddhist-style meditation. I stopped having early-morning revelations, but did occasionally have them during the day. But for the last several years, while I was in a rut and had the wrong perception of life, I have not been able to meditate, nor have I had any revelations. At least not until recently, after a full week of reading the inspirational writing of Steve Pavlina’s website.

In yesterday’s journal entry, I talked about the advice that a customer and acquaintance gave me, regarding how to weather the rude behaviour of some human beings, when they treat you as if you are invisble. I have been practicing his advice since yesterday, as well as imagining three things, based on this morning’s revelation, and some old wisdom. First, I have been imagining that the light of God is glowing within me. Second, I have been “saying hello to God” each time a customer comes in. In addition to this, I decided to implement some ancient wisdom. The Baghavad Gita, which could possibly be considered the Hindu equivalent of the Bible, tells us to treat our mother and father as if they were God, and to welcome our guests into our home as if they, too, are God.

Since my mother and I treat the diner as an extension of our home, I also imagined that everyone that stepped into “The Buddhist Truckstop” was a manifestation of God. And lo and behold, not one person was rude to me today, despite this being the coldest day this February. It remains to be seen, of course, whether this new perspective that I have adopted will sustain me permanently, or is a fluke.