I signed up for a year long course, A Course in Miracles. The music intrigued me. It’s not surprising the universe would capture my attention in that way. I listen to music selected for its power to bring serenity, any song, ‘though it’s usually instrumental, that soothes, regardless of cultural origin.
The opening Miracle lesson is a chorus heavenly sung by a male choir, a mantra: “Nothing I See Means Anything. Not the tangible objects in the room. Not the objects outside.
Nothing.” And I find that profoundly sad. It hurts my core deep enough that tears well and spill.
Why create dawn’s beauty, the breathtaking vistas of the natural environment, or the melodic notes from a bird or an insect’s song, if it means nothing? Why create anything, including life, at all?
I can understand and apply the concept as a reason to ease human suffering, as a release into acceptance from physical, mental, and emotional pain, but I’m not grasping that everything is nothing. What’s the purpose?
Perhaps the statement’s meaning will become acceptable, clear, as the lessons arrive. Maybe diminishment will become the vehicle to spiritual expansion. But, right now, in this moment where its’s raining outside in liquid, life-giving song, I don’t want to become or feel indifferent. I don’t want the miracle I see in “I Am” as a disengagement to the throbbing life that vibrates around me. Perhaps all learning begins with resistance.