The Internet is full of stories about the amazing “Eye of God,” so named because it looks so much like an eye. It’s actually an image of the Helix planetary nebula, which was captured by a telescope in Chile. It isn’t something you and I can look up into the night sky and see with our own naked eyes. It lies 700 light years away in the constellation Aquarius. And it isn’t an eye at all, of course, but its amazing colors are created by the gas and dust that are released as the star dies and becomes a white dwarf. It is so beautiful, and it does remind me of an image I used to hold in my mind and heart, that of God, way out there somewhere, high above us, watching over us. It’s a nice image to have, and for all those who hold it in their own minds and hearts, I understand and appreciate those beliefs. But now I understand that God isn’t out there somewhere. He’s right here in me and in everyone and everything else, so close that he’s part of my very cells. And I have the same creative power within me, at the very level of my DNA, that everyone else has. Instead of the “Eye of God” watching over me, I am the “I of God,” creating my life every second of every day. Now, that is truly amazing!
Because I create my own life, sometimes I don’t create the best life I could, or even the life I want. For instance, last night, we were all getting ready to go to bed. Our pug Elvis had a cyst removed from his eyelid on Wednesday, and I stayed home all day with him yesterday to make sure he was comfortable and wasn’t digging on the stitches. My son had been over most of the day working in my yard and in and out of the house, which made Elvis very happy, but also kept Elvis from getting much rest. I’m sure he was beyond tired as we went to bed, and all the trips out to the yard to visit with Michael had caused his paws to itch because he’s slightly allergic to grass. I’m not sure if his eyelid was hurting, too, but if it was my eyelid, it would have been hurting. My husband Jim was tired, too. It was, after all, bedtime, and he spends all day five days a week with sixth graders, which he loves very much, but it is a tiring job. He had been asked by his principal to bring a video camera to record the program they are having today for Black History Month. Jim is the chorus director, and his group is performing today, so it’s going to be a little tricky for him to record the program and direct the chorus and keep up with his homeroom all at the same time. All of this was on his mind as I “nagged” him that he should be using the new video camera I gave him quite a while ago instead of the one he had first found and set up its battery to recharge. I only think I asked him about it twice, but it must have seemed like nagging to him because he snapped at me and yelled, “Well, where is it?” And then he went off and found it, and set up that battery to recharge. Jim usually only speaks to me in the most loving way, something that I probably can’t say for myself when I speak to him now that I am truly looking at the situation, so when he barked at me, my feelings were hurt. Immediately after that, I decided to swab down Elvis’ paws with some medicated pads that he detests because they probably sting. With the already stressed mood he was in, tired, in pain, and itching, when I touched that stinging pad to his paw, he growled and snapped at the hand holding the pad. That was it for me. My husband had yelled at me, and my dog had “bitten” me, and I retreated out to the computer for a pity party. My desktop has a picture of my beloved Jim on the couch, with Elvis and my sweet Kojak, who died on New Year’s Day this year. The grief of Kojak’s passing is always just below the surface, and when I saw that picture, the grief rose and spilled out. Jim found me sobbing at the computer when he came back from setting up the battery. He tried to apologize to me for raising his voice to me. That wasn’t why I was crying. I told him that Elvis had bitten me, but when I showed him my hand, there was no bite, just a little tiny reddened area where Elvis’ teeth bumped against my knuckle. And there was Elvis sitting at my feet, faithful as always. That wasn’t why I was crying. I didn’t mention Kojak because I know Jim’s grief is almost as deep as mine. I wouldn’t be consoled. I wanted to cry and feel sorry for myself. And so I did. I sat there thinking these powerful thoughts: “My husband yelled at me when I didn’t deserve it; my only dog bit me when I was trying to help him; my best friend in the whole world is gone. I am miserable. I am a martyr. No one loves me or cares for me.” The pity party was in full swing. I did eventually let Jim hold my hand, and I petted Elvis, and I forgave them both for being so mean to me.
Thankfully, I woke up this morning deciding to create something much better for myself. I began to express better thoughts: I am so lucky to be able to stay home and take care of Elvis. I am the most fortunate woman on earth to have a man like Jim who loves me with all his heart, even when I’m being unreasonable. I have the best life of anyone I know. I am so grateful for everything in my world. My yard is absolutely beautiful and clean again. I have such a loving son who will do that for me and do it better than any stranger I could hire to do it. I am so proud of my President. I am so fortunate to live in America under his leadership. I am blessed in so many ways that I could write a book of blessings. I am creating the world I want to live. I am creating joy and pleasure and prosperity and even this spirit of gratitude. I am the “I of God” creating as I have been given the ability, creating as I desire, being the experience of God.