I have been asked the other day if I really believe that we are God, as I write in my new book.

I do.

Nevertheless, we can only embrace this, when we accept that God has a thousand faces.

All very contrasting.

Too often I have seen in the world the tendency to sweep under the carpet the “not so pretty” bits.

Whatever looks flawed is either harshly judged, relegated to the therapist’s office, or subjected to all sorts of healing modalities.

” You are not well. You must look for help!”

So, we spend most of our life trying to fix something that often feels ancient and alien. In the end, we never feel healed enough.

But the contrary also stands. We hide behind uncomfortable truths, unable to accept the painful reality of what is before our eyes. Whether within our family or on the news, it is not always easy to recognize the divine nature in others. We try and justify their, often very cruel behaviour. We believe that our niceness will show them the way back to love, ignoring the fact that these fallen angels may have come to experience something rather different.

The God we are, never chose to come here to look all pretty and pious.

We all chose to forget our wings and flew right into the mud of life. Our divinity is experienced in our ability to pick ourselves up, brush the dirt off, and then go off and see what this world has to offer. Not just what feels good to the heart, but very often what actually brings us back down on our knees. The constant rising and falling is the nature of our time here, and when we don’t accept this we obstinately try and fix ourselves and others.

One of the people in  “The Day I Found God In A Pub,” is a war veteran who ends up killing another man on his first day on the battlefield. John was only 18 when he arrived in France during the II World War. He had never left the East End of London and was still living with his mum and sisters. Nevertheless, faced by death, he chose to end someone else’s life. What struck me about him, was his fierce love for life. John would spend hours watching the world go by from his mobility scooter. He quickly learnt to accept what happened on the battlefield, because the life he was granted that day deserved to be fully lived. No amount of prayers would have changed what happened, but had he given in to despair and remorse, he would have wasted the gift he received again. This man had no language to express how he felt, and yet at the age of 92 his angelic wisdom kept him going to savour every moment ’till the very end.

Every day, as I watch people pass me by, I am reminded that our God – Self hides behind what hardly makes sense.

I often found that those who comfortably embrace the contrasts are the ones who shows their angelic nature the most. Whenever I am in the presence of these folks, it is easy to feel at home. They don’t spend their time following the latest spiritual frenzy. They don’t hope that a new therapist will magically make their pain go away. These people are simply in life. They accept that pretty soon they will fall again because they know they will get back up. It is in their quiet trust that their divine light shines the most.

In Grace,

Antonia Lyons

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