Well, FLI and The Secret Teleclass series was a huge success. I taught twice in March and the participants wanted to continue to learn how to put The Secret to use in their own lives using the Fearless Living tools as the foundation. So we did it again in April. Four classes, one hour each (and yes, sometimes I went over).
I have to say, those participants asked me so many questions about spirit and how the world works from that perspective that I know I will shortly be teaching a Teleclass on Fearless Spirit. It is an area where I love to live and cherish the opportunity to teach such a transformational class. The cool thing is it will meld the spiritual principles I have used, and lived, in my lifetime and the Fearless Living tools. Gotta love that!
And that is so appropriate in my life right now. I have rarely told folks how I came to know what I know. So I shall let you in on my secret.
I have always been hesitate to say how this came about since it is so personal and so mystical in nature. But since teaching FLI and The Secret teleclass (by the way I will be teaching at The Secret Conference in July in Los Angeles) and the brand new workshop called ‘Be Fearless’ that moved through me as the result of my time at a silent meditation retreat…I feel it is time to share the miracle in my life that showed me the way to what I teach today.
Now, most of you know about my story, and that it took me twenty years to heal from the tragedy of my parents death. That is absolutely right on. And yes, I did attempt suicide three times, and yes I did have nightmares about my father for over 15 years, and yes I did use alcohol, men and drama to forget about the pain of the past. All of that is true.
If you have read Fearless Living, you also know I had a forgiveness ceremony on the twentieth anniversary of my parents death where I knew on a cellular level that I had released them. If you have read Fearless Loving, you also know how I forgave my father and how that forgiveness ended the nightmares.
But something else happened around the anniversary of my parents death. Two things in fact…two things that changed my life. Now, I do not think the two things that happened to me are unique. In fact, I believe they are available to everyone. And one or both of them may have happened to you. The difference, I believe, is I actually took it seriously, believed what was happening to me was real and eventually acted on it even though ever cell in my being screamed NO! The fear was palatable. It was seeping from so deep inside of me that I felt like I was going to die if I did what I was being asked to do.
Even writing about it right now makes my chest heavy and my heart pound. But once again, I put that aside and know that is only fear. Ahhh…my long time friend.
I would like to share the first thing with you now. It happened after a class I was taking about Spiritual Practices. It was a study of the history of mystics like Ralph Waldo Emerson, Thomas Troward, Emma Curtis Hopkins, Joel Goldsmith, the Fillmores, etc. I love reading and studying the history of religion and spirituality. It has definitely been a passion of mine from a young age.
I was driving home from class innocently enough when I heard something whisper ‘become a spiritual practitioner.’ I was not happy. I ignored it at first. Spiritual practitioners, as far as I could see, just listened to peoples problems all day and prayed. Now, I didn’t mind the praying part it was the ‘listening to peoples problems’ that I had a hard time with. (I know, I know. It is ironic isn’t it?)
I was in my second year of studying at Agape under the tutelage of Rev. Michael Beckwith and at the end of that year you had to decide whether to go on for another two years and become a licensed spiritual practitioner. Four years of study total. It was considered the equivalent of a masters degree. I wasn’t planning to go on. But the voice wouldn’t let it go. ‘Become a spiritual practitioner.’ It was getting annoying.
All the way home the voice just kept gently repeating itself over and over again. By the time I was off the freeway and on a side road a mile from home I felt like I was going to scream or cry. I knew neither would be good for driving so I pulled off the road and sat there breathing heavy, facing the voice. I repeated, rather insistently, that it wasn’t for me. I was convinced they had the wrong car and therefore, the wrong person. This voice wasn’t meant for me. This wasn’t my dream. I wasn’t going to do this. So just forget it. But I couldn’t. It wouldn’t let me.
Over and over I tried to argue with the voice but it stood firm and then it hit me. If I did what the voice was telling me to I would have to face my greatest ally and enemy, God. I know what you are thinking. The voice was God. Yes, I know. And I knew then. That is why I didn’t want to listen. Up to that point, it wasn’t like I thought God was a good judge for deciding my future. I mean, at 14 I was planning to be a minister and then my parents died. You get the picture. I didn’t trust God.
And now he was talking to me loud and clear. And I was afraid. You know in the bible when they talk about how the people trembled in the presence of God? Well, I did. I trembled. I knew if I did what the voice told me I would have to let go of my resentment, I would have to forgive God.
I didn’t want to. At least, that’s what I thought. But the voice was so loving, so kind, so gentle and patient…I couldn’t help wondering if what the was telling me was indeed the truth, that it was my path.
As I sat there in the car frozen I started, ever so slowly, to melt. Tear by tear started to fall from my eyes and after a few moments, I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t breath. I felt like I was dying. And more importantly, I believed everyone I knew would die if I did this: if I chose God over fear. Remember, that is what happened the last time I chose God over all else. People died. And cellularly I was convinced it would happen again. That is why I couldn’t choose God. Someone in my family would pay the price of my desire.
Intellectually, I knew that wasn’t true. But you couldn’t convince me of that emotionally. My skin felt like it was turning inside out. It felt like every cell in my being was altering. I knew if I chose God and did as he was asking, and someone died…I would have to live with that. I couldn’t bare the thought. I couldn’t bare the shame. Yet, it was exactly what the voice was asking me to do…face the shame, face the fear, face the unthinkable.
As my tears turned into sobs, I found myself exhausted. Almost like I couldn’t fight it anymore. It was winning. In an instant, something changed. Some new thought entered my brain. What if I did love God more than anything else? What if this fear was pointing to how much I wanted to listen to the voice? What if this was God, really, talking to me now? That was when I woke up to the truth: I did love God more than anything or anyone else and God was more real to me than death, than life, than fear.
In that moment, I knew I couldn’t fight it anymore and if people were going to die for my decision, I had to face the consequences. I had to face that fear. Again, I know what you are thinking…”Rhonda, Rhonda…no one has to really die. This is just a metaphor. Just your imagination. Just your way of relieving the past.” I know, I know. I knew it intellectually even then. But not cellularly. Not emotionally. It felt real, very real in fact. So real I sat in that car and imagined one by one every member of my immediately family dying. I sat with it, griefed it, gave in to it. And then let it go.
When I emerged from my car hours later, I was not the same person. I had listened to the still, small voice and knew it was showing me my path. I still didn’t like it on a human level (it took me several months to turn that around) but I knew I would do it.
I graduated and was licensed as a spiritual practitioner two years later. And that work became the foundation of the principles in which I live by to this day. It wasn’t easy. It was by far the scariest thing I have ever done. Let’s face it, facing God and forgiving him isn’t an easy day for anyone. But it had been building. The moment had been called forth years before and I was finally ready for its manifestation. I was finally ready to cross the line back over to God and be free of the chains of my past.
I was finally home. In that instant, I felt the love for God the same way I did just moments before the bullets entered my mother. When I thought God was no longer for me but was, in fact, against me. I loved God when my mother was alive and when she died that love for God died with her. Or so I thought. I can see now I had buried it along with her body that day. But love never dies. It was still alive. All I had to do was melt my heart enough to see it was in there all the while.
Whew! That was scary to share. Now, give me a few days to get the gumption up to write the second miracle that gave me the knowledge to create Fearless Living. Until then…let’s both practice being fearless! 🙂 Rhonda