Weird Voicemail, part two

After my last post about my mother, I listened to Abraham speaking to someone at a seminar about a schizophrenic friend, and I found it--well, maybe it's not a Faithy-ready plug-and-play device, but I'm looking forward to getting all the drivers together to be able to use it.

Abraham's advice to him was to picture his friend through the eyes of source; see him as the whole and perfect being he really is, even if the physical reality doesn't match that. Jesus, according to Abraham, did that, and held their perfect reality in such strong vibration that their imperfections couldn't stay with him there. Thus he healed the sick. Not sure how I feel about Jesus in general, but that's probably related to how I feel about my mom and what she taught me about him. I am feeling a little more charitable toward him since Abraham speaks of him favorably, but--well, that's where I am. I shall operate under the assumption that the bits of the bible that don't make any sense to me were added by crazy people.

I've already been working on seeing myself through the eyes of source, and know that when that's easier, seeing others through those same eyes as well will follow. Interesting that this approach didn't occur to me before; perhaps it's because it's harder to change your perspective on things that have already shown up in physical reality.

I'm not sure what the end result of seeing her that way will be, but I have faith (which is what she named me) that my perspective will grow more perfect, and the least that can happen is that I feel better.

It's kind of hard to picture getting to a place where I can see her that way without having upstream thoughts--I see myself as Buddha, yet that personification dissipates in the context of Vernon, Alabama (my home town, where my parents still live), even in my mind. So I try to think the next downstream thought about my mom.

The progression in most situations goes something like this: despair, to revenge, to anger, to frustration, to hope, to belief, to joy, and so forth.

I was in despair through much of my youth, which I didn't blame on my mom. When I came out of it, I was quite angry with her, and I have to say I've been frustrated with her as well, many times. I'm no longer angry, but it's difficult for me to call the feeling I have hope. Pity, yes; hope, no.

I can picture her free of doubt and fear, but this picture of her is always involves her dying first and being finally able to see things clearly. That's not the vibration I want to put out into the universe.

But maybe Jesus (truly or metaphorically) wasn't worried about hope when he healed the sick. He just saw what was, even though what was wasn't physically standing in front of him. Anyway, my hope isn't to change my mom in any way; it's just to have a relationship with her without compromising myself.

Maybe I think too much. Maybe the key isn't to specify exactly what I'm hoping will happen; rather it's just to feel as good as I can. Feel as true to myself--all of myself--as I can.

And I can feel good if I know that what my mom says and does and feels is only the tip of the iceberg that is her. And maybe that's seeing her through the eyes of source, or at least floating in that general direction.