![]() In that moment I made a commitment to myself to become a student and a teacher of the Course-a sacred contract that would change my life. It does aim, however, at removing the blocks to the awareness of love’s presence, which is your natural inheritance.” This passage sent chills down my spine. The course does not aim at teaching the meaning of love, for that is beyond what can be taught. Intuitively, I knew I was in for something good.Īfterward, as I stood on a busy New York City street corner, I flipped the book open to its Introduction and read, “ This is a course in miracles. It felt strange and yet, oddly comforting. Then the most auspicious thing happened-the book literally dragged me to the counter. I found the thickness of the volume inviting and reassuring, and as I grabbed the book off the shelf I smiled as if I had received a wink from the Universe. Upon entering the bookstore, I noticed the dark blue hardback with the title A Course in Miracles scrawled in illuminating gold print across the cover. It was with that burning desire for change that I set out to purchase the Course to begin with. What really mattered was how relevant the Course’s teachings were to my life, and my absolute willingness to be guided to change. But, ultimately, I realized that getting bogged down in semantics was a silly distraction. The Course’s unique thought system uses forgiveness as the road to inner peace and happiness.Īdmittedly, when I first began reading the Course, the language and many of the concepts were extremely foreign to me. The Course is a self-study curriculum emphasizing practical applications for relinquishing fear in all areas of life. My primary guide on my journey to self-love has been the metaphysical text A Course in Miracles. My journal shows a deep desire to continue growing from the inside out. I’ve overcome my addictions to love, drugs, food, work, and fear. The words on the page are tinged with pride and compassion. ![]() They reflect an empowered woman who is happy and bleeds authenticity. Today my journal entries are much different. I’d release my fears onto the page and get honest about my sadness as I scribbled over my tears. ![]() My journal was my only outlet from the turmoil and deep-rooted pain I felt every day. Pages and pages are filled with self-loathing and self-doubt. I wrote about trying to quit drugs while high on drugs. I wrote about heartbreak, anxiety, and eating disorders.
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