ADORATION

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I lost faith in the Christian church at a very young age.  My family attended a small, pretty, middle Anglican church in our neighbourhood. It smelled musty and was full of adults in Sunday clothes, and wonderful old books of hymns. At my confirmation, the coming of age ceremony where one became a member of the church and gained the right to attend services instead of Sunday school in the basement, all the children went up in pairs to have the blessing of the man wearing the fancy robes. He put his right hand on the head of one, and his left hand on tvirgin-mary-and-baby-jesus-stained-glass-munir-alawi-1he head of the other, and the deed was done. I was, of course, the last and the shy one, so I walked up alone, knelt, and felt the weight of two blessed hands upon my head at once. They were large hands and almost encompassed me; I did not like their touch but felt paralyzed by it, there on my knees. To distract myself I gazed up at the berry red, moss green and sapphire blue of the windows, pieces of glass stitched together into Mary holding baby Jesus. There was such beauty in the windows of that church, but all the faces inside it seemed dry and fearful to me. When I turned thirteen I refused to wear a hat to church on Sundays, knowing that I would soon be told to stay home as a result. It worked, and I never returned.

In those days I was slightly abhorrent of the idea that worship was asked of us, and indeed there is a part of me that rebels against it still. I rejected the thought that Divine nature cares whether we like them or not. Why would the Creator require evidence of our love, already knowing that Love is all we are? I did not want to bow down before any Being that wanted me to bow down to them. I wanted above all to be free.

I believe still that my response was a true one, in that time and that place. But I have since come to a different understanding of the idea of simple adoration. the act of surrendering in response to blinding love. I came to understand that love blesses the lover, even more than the loved.

In my work, in my readings and transmissions, I am drawn to touch the essence of many energies and souls, and in the place I meet them they always shine in their essential purity.  But sometimes I am graced with a much deeper experience, and on one occasion in particular was shown an aspect of Divinity that held such beauty, had I been standing, I would have dropped to the floor, prostrate before the intense vibration of radiant light. It was a visceral response, and there was no time for my ego to speak or even assess the situation. I did not care whether worship was being asked of me, I could not help what I felt. I experienced such love that it melted me like a stick of butter before a blow torch, and so what was there to do but bow low and weep with joy. I was not a Christian, yet I was in the presence of Christ’s essence. Love as boiling waves of hot energy. Love as a radiant, permeating presence. Love that knocked me to the ground. Buddha was brilliance, a thinker, an activist, but Christ was unconditional Love, a lover of women and men.

And isn’t it interesting that in our human lives we think we want this, to adore and be adored by a perfect mate, and yet, the sensation that shatters the heart wide open is so far beyond personal, it is Love as sound wave, Love as light bath, Love as energetic communion. One is loved, not because of any personal attraction, one is loved because one is in the presence of Love, which encompasses All. And one loves in return because there is no choice. This love is deeper than life itself. It is worship, it is adoration. It is absolute surrender. This is what I have felt, and what I now believe we are meant to feel, in every moment we allow.

Here is a video of the Peace 2014 meditation. The lyrics of the chant are: What do you hear? / Who is here? / Love is here. When we listen, truly listen, no matter who is speaking, we hear God. When we look to see who is speaking, we see God. When we look to understand what God is, we discover only Love.

much love, Adi

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