Sample spiritual biography
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A short spiritual biography
#lauraschopen, #acim, #ACourseinMiracles, #HolyFireReiki, #angels
We get to know each other through our stories. Here's a brief introduction to me from a spiritual perspective. :)
Painting by Mary Scott Soo - "Delivered into the hands of love"
Many people are open to spiritual beings and experiences when they are children. Then as our critical thinking kicks in and we don't receive support from adults to appreciate our subtle perceptions and experiences, we shut down. I experienced telepathy as a kid (I found letters my mom had written to my grandma about this), I had "imaginary friends," and for at least one major event, I had clear precognition about a tragedy that would unfold.
I am not special. Many, many people started out open as little children, but then we change our focus necessarily and we forget/deny our prior experiences. I'm not saying it shouldn't be this way ju
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Widening: A spiritual autobiography {Written månad }
Tricia Gates Brown
It’s hard to beat as a visual for the spiritual life, poet Rainer Maria Rilke’s: “I live my life in widening circles”—glassy ripples overtaking wider expanses of unchartered water, drawing them into circles of unifying experience. I marvel at what’s rippled into the path of my own spiritual consciousness, at the wideness spanning out from the pinpoint center of my being like an expanding galaxy. inom also wonder if the wideness was inherent in me, and is inherent in all of us, from the start—the way the fullness of the cosmos was present in the head-of-a pin ursprung that gave birth to it. Maybe in humans the expanding gets stymied or collapsed by the experiences of our lives, and we must live our way back to first knowing. My åtagande here—writing spiritual autobiography—is to understand the process in my own life. As the saying goes: We write to learn what we know. And inom write this piece in par
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Origins
It is hard to know where to start a story about faith. We all come from God. If things go well, by God’s grace, we are all headed back to God. But the road is almost never very clear, and it is the ruts and hurdles that make up the stuff of a story. Mine started in Seattle more than half a century ago in a family quarrel.
Elizabeth, my mother-to-be, had just introduced the man she meant to marry, Donald, to her mother, Blanche. There must have been some sort of meal. There must have been some sort of conversation. Elizabeth had grown up the unwanted second and last child of a relatively wealthy couple. Her best friend from school came from a big loving family that provided a refuge for Elizabeth growing up, and she wanted that life for herself. She had been engaged once before to a well-placed young man who shared her dream, but he had died of leukemia. Now she had found Donald. Unfortunately, Donald had told her that they could not marry unless she gave up on having ch