I know a woman who is a channel. She talks to dead people. And I believe that she can do it. I believe it because she is an old friend who only recently began to concentrate and strengthen the strong intuitive and spiritual consciousness she has had for her whole life. I also believe it because she has channeled certain messages to me and to those around me that are specific, and weird, and most importantly, true. I also believe that we all have the power to tap into energies and forces that we can not yet explain, except by what many would term “spiritual or supernatural” causes. Last week I spoke about the “God Bumps” that I have experienced in moments of spiritual connection or channeling an energy that we cannot really explain. I don’t think there is a need to really expound on this idea, because I believe that everyone has had an experience similar to the ones I am describing – whether or not you chose to talk about it.
Most people have heard the prayer that I am focusing on this week, commonly called “The Prayer of St. Francis.” It’s story is similar to that of the “Serenity Prayer” in that the exact origin is a matter of mystery. Most accounts say that the prayer first appeared around 1915 on a prayer card which featured St. Francis, and that is why it became known as his prayer, but many scholars of the Saint agree that it was not Francis who wrote it. The prayer became widely popular in the U.S. during and after W.W.II as part of a peace campaign to end the war. So, similarly to the “Serenity Prayer,” we have an anonymous writing with a timeless message, that has been used by countless song writers, poets, religious leaders, politicians, and ordinary folks as a compass of good morality.
I remember singing the prayer as a child in church – it was one of my favorites. I do not remember any sermons preached on its meaning, however. That would have been nice. Most of the sermons that I do remember from my church were centered around the idea that, even though the human race was really, really bad – God would forgive us. So we had that going for us – which was good – I guess. In truth, some of the most uplifting moments in that church were when we would sing. There was a humongous church organ in the back of the place, in the balcony, and I loved the sound of it. Old Miss Harris, the otherwise miserable woman that would have sprayed us kids with mace if it had been around back then, would play that organ, and my spirit would soar. She had a decent voice as well. I loved the beginning and end of the service, when we would sing – the rest of it I could take or leave most of the time. And eventually, that is what I did – I left.
I had really forgotten about the prayer and the song by the time I was 20. At that point, I was in college, and too smart and too naive to believe that I needed help, guidance, or channeling of anything from another source. There was a series of unfortunate events and regrettable misunderstandings that took place involving my behaviors and attitudes after drinking alcohol at that time. It seemed to me that it was the college and the town that had the problem – with all their uptight rules about certain noise ordinances and “correct” behaviors and destruction of certain property – they really needed to lighten up. So I came up with a plan – it was to beg, claw and scrape my way into an exchange program for a year in England, where I knew that not only was the drinking age lower, but that the Brits had a much better understanding of how to have inebriated fun. So off I went.
While in England, I joined the college’s Christmas Choir. I’ve always enjoyed singing, and I knew that they planned to sing in some of the oldest built churches around Britain. One of our songs was an adaptation of the St. Francis prayer. For some reason, singing that song, in those ancient churches, was one of the first God Bump times for me. If you ever get the chance to visit a really, really old church in Europe, try singing or listening to a choir while there. The acoustics in those places are unimaginible, far superior to anything I have heard anywhere in America.
The next time the prayer/song came into my life was during one of the “recalculation” periods when I was about 26. Despite my voluntary deportation out of the U.S., I continued to experience what I now know to be the predictable path of addictive behaviors. I would find out soon that the real trouble was the company I had been keeping – namely myself – and that as long as I left that person in charge, it didn’t matter if I went to England, China, America, or the moon – things were only going to get worse. It was during this time, during the greatest loss of my life so far, that I had a moment of clarity in which all the denial, rationalizations, and sick thinking were suddenly exposed, bathed in a pure white light and seen for what they really were – namely lies and dark energy which fed on all my unhealthy thoughts. If I was to get through this part of my life, I was going to need healthier energies, healthier thinking, and healthier life practices. I was truly at a cross roads – one that had undeniably presented itself at earlier points in my life – but I was too sick, too stubborn, and too stupid to recognize it. And this time I had an advantage – my father who had recently passed over to the spiritual realm promised to help me, to guide my steps and have my back each step of the way. I know now that he was holding the light which allowed me to see clearly for the first time all of the sickness and darkness that I had invited into my life at that time.
I was angry, and lonely and missing my sick self during this time. I set a time frame – one year – and if things did not truly get better, I was going back to my old ways. I started eating better and exercising. I started running with my dog. I have never really liked running, but it seemed appropriate at this time – I wanted to run and run and run – much like Forest Gump in the movie – I didn’t know what else to do, so I ran. And I never listened to music when I ran. I’m not sure why I knew I shouldn’t be distracted during those runs, but I knew it was important to pay attention. And sure enough, the prayer came back to me. I was running on a trail in the woods, my large dog bounding ahead, leashless, when the song began in my head – sounding just like it had in those churches in England “Make me a channel of your peace…”
It was the first time I truly released all the stuff I had been holding inside – the unfairness, the losses, the wasted time, the guilt, the shame, all the junk that had been building up for 26 years came pouring out on that trail – I ran faster and faster and faster until the explosion came and I was standing in the woods, breathless and crying, screaming out – completely broken and powerless. “Make me a channel of your peace…” continued in my head, refrain after refrain, until I slowly began mouthing the words, singing the entire song, believing that somehow this was the answer – I needed to channel an energy outside of myself. I needed to switch my priorities, dump my selfish, sick self and allow a power greater than myself to start telling me the right way to live. I felt my Father’s hands on me and I knew that if I allowed it, things could get better – not perfect – but better. And they have. Much better. Not perfect – but better.
I guess all of this leads up to a reminder and a gift for you all. My reminder is to pay attention to what is right in front of you. This is the time of year, more than any other, when gratitude, and love, and hope, and faith and renewal of your spirit “often by the spirits” is all around us. Have you acknowledged it? Have you allowed yourself to feel it? Have you channeled any of this energy when you could find none of your own to use? Give it a try. Stop. Look. Listen. Be still. Pray and hope and give freely to others. My gift to you is the power in this prayer. I know, I know – I’m “re-gifting”, but take it anyway. Read it through, put a copy in somewhere that you can’t help but see it. Download a musical version of the song, and allow yourself to sing it. It is powerful medicine. I recently saw that my wife has a copy in her car, on the driver’s side visor. I didn’t know she had it there, but we need it right now. And you might, too…
Prayers coming your way for this Friday!
That is one of my all time favorite songs. Also Aunt Mary really lives the words. Great at this time of year also
When I was at one of my lowest points emotionally in early recovery, I was alone, crying, in my room in a halfway house. Suddenly, the air changed in the room and I felt my Dad give me a big hug – I could feel his warmth around me. He had passed away a few years before, but I know he was with me that day. He was letting me know he was there, and I would be okay. He was right.