Tag Archive: mindfulness

We nourish our lives in many different ways. Without water and the five food groups, our bodies weaken, sicken, and die. Without science, math, history, or any other intellectual pursuit, our minds weaken, sicken, and die.

We feed our souls with patience.

“In your patience possess ye your souls.”-Luke 21:19.

My “working definition” of the soul is this: the part of us that sees our connection to all things.

Without patience our souls weaken, sicken, and die. We must feed all of these aspects, as one connects to all, influencing everything we do, think, and feel.

We need a healthy soul, fed with lots of patience, in order to understand who we are, and to accept God’s will. When we refuse to be malnourished, and commit ourselves to a proper diet-feeding the body, mind, and soul-then we are born again.

“And thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength: this is the first commandment.”-Mark 12:30.

Jesus emphasized the importance of patience with this kingdom of heaven parable:

“Another parable spake he unto them; The kingdom of heaven is like unto leaven, which a woman took, and hid in three measures of meal, till the whole was leavened.”-Matthew 13:33.

Leaven is a little piece of dough left over from a previous baking, which ferments over time. Fermentation takes time.

When the three angels visited Abraham, on their way to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah….

“…Abraham hastened into the tent unto Sarah, and said, Make ready quickly three measures of fine meal, knead it, and make cakes upon the hearth.”-Genesis 18:16.

If we’re in a hurry, we don’t have time for fermentation. Leaven takes time. Three measures feeds three, and, therefore, is enough for more than just ourselves. Our bread feeds others.

Perhaps the most well-known example of unleavened bread comes from the Exodus.

“And they baked unleavened cakes of the dough which they brought forth out of Egypt, for it was not leavened; because they were thrust out of Egypt, and could not tarry, neither had they prepared for themselves any victual.”-Exodus 12:39.

When we hurry, we eat dull, tasteless, unleavened bread. Anything worth having, and worth savoring, requires patience. Leavened bread takes time. While we wait, we savor life and learn patience.

Though the sand in our hour glass seems to be abundant, we lose one grain per second. Each moment exists uniquely, and will never come again. We must savor every grain.

“As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth. / For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more.”-Psalm 103:15, 16.

Just as forgiveness shows love, and love allows for forgiveness, patience shows faith, and faith allows for patience. Whichever of these four we do, we are able to do the other three; one carries the blueprint for all.

“Knowing this, that the trying of your faith worketh patience.”-James 1:3.

Patience allows for forgiveness, because we aren’t in a rush to judge. Love thrives on faith, because we allow God’s will to be done. Back and forth, like a dance; we exchange partners: patience for love, forgiveness for faith.

Faith clothes our souls with the garments woven by our actions. We are what we do, and what we think. Just as the Plains Indians used every part of the buffalo, we utilize every thought and action; we discard nothing.

“Seest thou how faith wrought with his works, and by works was faith made perfect?”-James 2:22.

Therefore, everything we do, or don’t do, makes us who we are.

This means our whole life determines our whole life. Simple and obvious, isn’t it? But our souls require a lifetime for the whole to be leavened.

Our own personal bread balances and harmonizes with all the billions of others. The whole world must be leavened, which takes time, and therefore we need patience.

This brings us back to love and forgiveness: coexistent harmony.

“For if ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you: / But if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.”-Matthew 6:14, 15.

This is not only a moral, spiritual imperative, but a psychological one as well. Even if we believe that our hearts resist sentimentality, and we show no outward sign of caring for others, our souls feel and record our every thought and action.

We discard nothing. We knead all of it into the dough.

As God promised Abraham:

“And I will bless them that bless thee, and curse him that curseth thee….”-Genesis 12:3.

So does Jesus instruct us:

“Bless them that curse you, and pray for them which despitefully use you.”-Luke 6:28.

When we curse others, life curses us; when we bless, life blesses us. The leaven we mix into our lives includes all the leaven that everyone else kneads into their lives.

If we curse or hate someone, even if we think we’ve hardened our hearts and feel nothing, then that discord ruins the harmony of our lives. Even if we don’t show it on the outside, we feel it on the inside.

What we feed others, feeds us.

So we must be mindful. When we do something wrong, our perspective shields us with assurances that we behaved properly. So we teach ourselves, without realizing it, to see evil for good, and good for evil.

“Woe unto them that call evil good, and good evil; that put darkness for light, and light for darkness; that put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter!”-Isaiah 5:20.

Thus, the woman in Jesus’ parable hides the leaven, and it works invisibly, affecting our souls and psychological well-being. It is in our best interest to love one another.

Our bread feeds three people; and their bread feeds three more; and theirs, three more. And so on, until we leaven the world.

“For God so loved the world….”-John 3:16.

This is why Jesus warned his disciples about the Pharisees’ doctrine.

“…Beware ye of the leaven of the Pharisees, which is hypocrisy.”-Luke 12:1.

Whatever we mix into our dough becomes our bread. And whatever we feed to others, becomes their bread, which we, in turn, consume and become.

“And Jesus said unto them, I am the bread of life: he that cometh to me shall never hunger; and he that believeth on me shall never thirst.”-John 6:35.

To be born again, we must accept the bread of life: the Bible shorthand for which is love. And the truth is that love requires patience.

“Then said Jesus to those Jews which believed on him, If ye continue in my word, then are ye my disciples indeed; / And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.”–John 8:31, 32.

Jesus offers to teach us patience. And when we understand his lessons, the truth frees us from slavery to sin, and the agony our souls endure because of it.

Though we attempt to hide our sins in the dough, and convince ourselves they are of no consequence, a part of us knows we did something wrong.

“For thou hast trusted in thy wickedness: thou hast said, None seeth me. Thy wisdom and thy knowledge, it hath perverted thee; and thou hast said in thine heart, I am, and none else beside me.”-Isaiah 47:10.

We think no one sees us, but we see ourselves. The soul isn’t persuaded by our lies, and knows the truth. While we repress this inner self, it suffers and eats away at us: until we are hollow, heartless, loveless, and perpetually angry.

Our resultant inner guilt ruins the harmony of our world, and embitters our bread. We cannot purge this self-inflicted poison, if we don’t acknowledge it. We break the addiction, and purge the poison with understanding and acceptance of Jesus’ word: This takes a lot of time, with many false starts.

Patience is hard. Not giving in to our base instincts, which demand an eye for an eye, seems impossible. We must have faith in our faith, and be patient with our patience.

“.…Woe to the inhabiters of the earth and of the sea! for the devil is come down unto you, having great wrath, because he knoweth that he hath but a short time.”-Revelation 12:12.

We rush because we know that our time is short. So, in a way, we already acknowledge the importance of each moment. But our impatience results in anger, and contempt.

This is natural. Everyone goes through this. But, in our haste, we sacrifice the beauty of our lives, and the harmony of our souls.

“He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.”-Psalm 23:2.

Since our time is short, we shouldn’t ruin it with hate and impatience. We are here to love the green pastures and still waters.

I know how hard it is to be patient. I feel important when I rush: as if I’m off to save a princess from a dragon. Impatience makes me feel like my life is important. And it is!

“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.”-Ecclesiastes 3:1.

Our lives are too important to waste time by rushing. We lose what we’re trying to preserve. Love, and appreciation of each other and the world, takes time. But this is life. Impatience robs us of life. Since we know how important our time is, we need to mix mindfulness into our dough, and enjoy baking our bread.

Like the woman in this parable, Jesus hides life in our bread.

“He hath blinded their eyes, and hardened their heart; that they should not see with their eyes, nor understand with their heart, and be converted, and I should heal them.”-John 12:40.

He blinds us so we can learn to see with new eyes. He hardens our hearts to give us the choice, and opportunity, to soften our hearts.

If we do these things, if we love without thought of getting something in return, if we love because we love, and that’s what we do, then we see.

“And Jesus said, For judgment I am come into this world, that they which see not might see; and that they which see might be made blind.”-John 9:39.

We are born being able to see. To fit in and keep up with others, we blind ourselves with pride, ego, and impatience: all the lies we mix into our dough.

This is natural; everyone does it. And this is why Jesus came, why we have the Bible: to save us from the harm we unknowingly cause ourselves.

“…Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do….”-Luke 23:34.

This leaves us with the Bible’s primary lesson: how to mix our will with God’s will. The Bible teaches this in many different circumstances, with many different characters.

“These things have I spoken unto you, that my joy might remain in you, and that your joy might be full. / This is my commandment, That ye love one another, as I have loved you.”-John 15:12.

The simplest way to understand God’s will is to follow Jesus’ commandment, because when we love one another, when we have the patience to do God’s will, we coexist in harmony with all things, with God. This is the good bread that feeds our souls.

“I am the living bread which came down from heaven: if any man eat of this bread, he shall live for ever: and the bread that I will give is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world.”-John 6:51.

So impatience comes because we know our time is short. Patience allows us to savor every bite of our bread. And we gain patience through faith, forgiveness, and love: all of which are interchangeable, and learned from each other.

The tough thing about patience is that it never ends. No matter how faithful, loving, or forgiving we were yesterday, today requires even more.

“Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.”-Matthew 6:34.

When we feel impatient, then stop. Take a deep breath. Look around. Congratulate the world on its beauty. Remember how small we are. Our importance lies not in our vanity, but in how much we love. Love feeds not just our soul, but all souls. Love leavens the world.

Remember, we teach ourselves, and learn from others, without knowing it: The woman hid the leaven. We must mindfully reverse what we’ve thoughtlessly learned.

Inhale the world’s beauty, let it fill your soul. When you exhale, release your impatience. Inhale the love of all things. Exhale judgments, anger, whatever separates you from the world, and everything in it.

We must remember Jesus’ first commandment, and balance what we feed our bodies, minds, and souls; and with it comes the second commandment, which is really identical to the first.

“And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.”-Matthew 22:39.

We provide a healthy diet for the body, mind, and soul by loving one another. We love by forgiving. With patience, we forgive. With faith, we learn patience. And we feed our faith with love, as we feed our souls with patience.

Impatience thinks only of tomorrow. Love exists right now, and now is all we really have. If we waste this moment, then we ruin the harmony of our souls, and what we’re rushing for in the first place: which is to get the most out of life.

Patience takes practice. We store food before the famine. If we wait until we’re swept up in the heat of the moment, if we learn nothing before the test, then we fail.

Learn now. Practice during easy moments: while waiting for coffee, or the stoplight. Inhale the moment. Exhale impatience for the next moment; it will come, and when it does, inhale it deeply. Love now with all your heart, soul, strength, and mind.

“He is not the God of the dead, but the God of the living….”-Mark 12:27.

God lives here…now…in you, and in me, the tree, the rock, your desk, my lamp, the sky, the clouds, every animal and person, every smell, taste, color, texture, all emotions, actions, and thoughts. Everything. Therefore, the kingdom of heaven is here. We are born again right now.

Patience sets us free from worrying about tomorrow. Forgiveness exhales the past, releasing us from guilt, anger, and judgments. Love knocks on the door…right now. Hear it? Open the door. That’s all we have to do.

The most important (and most difficult) part of being born again is staying that way. We enter the kingdom of heaven when we love one another. But we will always be tested, tempted to hate-which is what sin really is.

We lump sin with mistakes, accidents, unforeseeable circumstances: We slip, trip, spill, crash, fall. We’re unable to prevent mistakes, because we can’t see the future. But sin doesn’t work that way. We might get caught up in a moment of passionate anger; or judge someone without thinking that we shouldn’t; we curse others who do us wrong, hate those who disagree with our opinion. But, in the end, we’re responsible.

We choose to sin.

It happens so quickly, violently, as if an outside force possesses us. Since the dawn of Judaism and Christianity, we blamed devils, or the Devil; we claimed that God hardened our hearts, or that Adam’s initial, original sin compelled us.

Still, we ask God to forgive us. Why? If we aren’t responsible for our sins-if the Devil is, or Adam, or other people-then how, or why, should we be held accountable?

We must accept that we hate because we want to. We’re addicted to it; we feel entitled, that those who did us wrong had it coming.

Darkness cannot defeat darkness; only light can do that. Evil perpetuates itself; only love can defeat it. We have a way out of this quicksand, if we’re prepared to accept the truth.

“Thomas saith unto him, Lord, we know not whither thou goest; and how can we know the way? / Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.”-John 14:5, 6.

If we choose to sin, then we can choose to not sin.

I know this seems impossible, perhaps even blasphemous. We must have faith, and leap into the unknown, using God’s love for a parachute.

“But Jesus beheld them, and said unto them, With men this is impossible; but with God all things are possible.”-Matthew 19:26.

The way lies in these mindfulness essays. I didn’t realize while writing them that they formed a step-by-step method to build awareness of God’s will. Regret lingers in the past; anxiety threatens us from the future; but love lives in the present.

God lives here with us, right now.

“He is not the God of the dead, but the God of the living….”-Mark 12:27.

So let us review.

Step 1: Silently, while breathing deeply, say the Lord’s Prayer. Focus on the meaning of every word. This is the prayer that Jesus taught. The purpose here is to relax the mind and body enough to experience God’s presence. We don’t need to ask God to come to us. We need to realize that God is already here.

“…your Father knoweth what things ye have need of, before ye ask him. / After this manner therefore pray ye: Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name.”-Matthew 6:8, 9.

Step 2: While continuing to practice Step 1, move forward. Forgive every sin as it happens. Pay attention. Focus. Be mindful of hate, how we feel about it, and how those feelings contaminate us. This formula will help: Understanding + Acceptance = Forgiveness. Understand why someone did something wrong. We don’t have to agree, but we must accept it. Also, we must remember to forgive ourselves, for judging others.

“But if ye do not forgive, neither will your Father which is in heaven forgive your trespasses.”-Mark 11:26.

Step 3: Continue the first two steps, but now, instead of just forgiving, bless others. We don’t need to be priests or rabbis to bless people. Start simply by blessing children. Don’t make a show of it; better that they don’t even know. Pray for them as you see them. Stay in the moment. God is with the children. We acknowledge that holy presence, that hallowed ground by thinking kind thoughts.

Over time, bless others as well: the elderly, animals, workers, married couples. Make each blessing specific to each one: Bless the birds and their flock; pray for God to grant patience to parents and their crying children; bless the elderly couple with strength, as they struggle with every step.

God is with them all. Just as we don’t need to pray for God to come to us, but rather open our hearts to feel His presence, so our blessings are actually meant to help us see that God is already with everyone.

“Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”-Matthew 25:40.

Step 4: We are getting more advanced now. Each step includes all those that came previously. We see and forgive. We love and bless. We stop and know that God is everything we perceive: all colors, tastes, sounds, smells, everything we touch.

There is nothing but God. All is love.

“He that loveth not knoweth not God; for God is love.-1 John 4:8.

Further, a whole universe exists outside of our perceptions. God is all that, and more. Be humble. Take your time: one step, then another. When pain, sorrow, or regret overwhelms you, surrender them to God. He can handle it.

This is step 5: When anger comes, or anxiety, or depression-anything that prevents us from loving ourselves and others-pray, “God, take this evil from me.”

This is a version of what Jesus did, when confronted with something that sought to distract him from God’s will.

“…Get thee behind me, Satan: for thou savourest not the things that be of God, but the things that be of men.”-Mark 8:33.

Love all; hate nothing. Breathe deeply. Accept God’s will. The acceptance formula is Love + Humility = Acceptance. We must humble ourselves and love everything to see God’s will.

These mindfulness exercises keep us aware of God. If, and when, we remain aware of the hallowed ground on which we walk, a miracle occurs.

“…[Jesus] said unto [the woman caught in adultery], Woman, where are those thine accusers? hath no man condemned thee? / She said, No man, Lord. And Jesus said unto her, Neither do I condemn thee: go, and sin no more.”-John 8:10, 11.

In Mosaic Law, adultery warranted the death penalty. Thou shalt not commit adultery was the seventh commandment God gave to Moses. The sixth? Thou shalt not commit murder. On Mount Sinai, God indicated no punishments for breaking the Ten Commandments. But, in Leviticus, God demanded capital punishment for anyone who broke his laws.

What happened? How could the Israelites be told to not kill, and yet to kill? Eventually, wouldn’t they all be murdered by the enforcers of the laws in Leviticus?

What if they misunderstood, assumed that they knew God’s will? (As we all do.) How can the finite know the infinite? The only way we can even come close to approximating God’s will is through love, compassion, mercy, and forgiveness, not murder or judgments.

Since we’re on a roll, one more question. What if we have misunderstood the nature of sin? Jesus told the adulteress that he didn’t condemn her.

“For the Father judgeth no man, but hath committed all judgment unto the Son.”-John 5:22.

Jesus is our judge. And if he didn’t condemn that woman, but told her to sin no more, we are left with a startling possibility, a revolutionary way of thinking: We do not have to sin. We can sin no more!

Jesus told us how he accomplished the amazing, seemingly impossible feat of always following God’s will.

“And he that sent me is with me: the Father hath not left me alone; for I do always those things that please him.”-John 8:29.

We please God by doing His will. So if we always do what pleases Him, then we are without sin. All that remains is for us to continue living in God’s presence. That is what these mindfulness essays teach.

In Jerusalem, at the pool of Bethesda, there was a man who had been crippled for 38 years. Legend had it that, now and then, an angel descended to the pool. And when that angel disturbed the waters, the first person to reach the pool was healed. But this man was crippled, and someone always got to the pool first.

So Jesus healed him. Patience always wins, in the end.

“Afterward Jesus findeth him in the temple, and said unto him, Behold, thou art made whole: sin no more, lest a worse thing come unto thee.”-John 8:14.

We take for granted that sin is inevitable, due to our inherent weakness, and unavoidable mistakes. That’s not what Jesus taught. If we’re always looking to the past, and the future, then we will trip and fall. But if we stay in the moment, and please God, then we can be perfect. This requires mindfulness on an epic scale. Practice these steps. Turn from hate the moment it comes. Surrender sin to God.

Have faith. If Jesus saved the adulterous woman, and cured the man crippled by sin for most of his life, then he can heal us. Jesus passes our way, and we open our hearts for a brief moment.

The heart is a door whose handle is only on the inside. We must open it. No one can do it for us. But when we do, when we seize our moment, when we are mindful of love and faith, Jesus is there. He waits with the cure for sin: love, forgiveness, mercy, compassion, and the strength to accept God’s will.

But it’s like our door is stuck, and we open it a little with every push. For every moment that we allow ourselves to feel love, we open the door a little more.

Finally, the light shines through, and we are reborn.

(To be continued in Part 2.)


Mindfulness of God: Prayer

The techniques in these mindfulness essays keep God close at hand. Through prayer, we stay aware of God’s omnipresence, forgive as soon as we’re offended, and bless everyone and everything, thereby connecting to those around us, making it harder to hate and easier to love; and we humble ourselves, every moment, before the grandeur of life.

(For full discussions on all these topics, please refer to the other Mindfulness essays in the table of contents.)

The latest technique I’ve been practicing involves prayer. Like all mindfulness exercises, it is simple. Before getting into it, I want to talk about prayer.

First, to whom are we praying? God, of course. But who or what is God? No one knows for sure.

“All things are delivered unto me of my Father: and no man knoweth the Son, but the Father; neither knoweth any man the Father, save the Son, and he to whomsoever the Son will reveal him.”—Matthew 11:27.

Still, we can approximate a working definition, so we’ll at least have some starting point for building a relationship with God. This is also a great introductory mindfulness exercise.

From the opening line of the Lord’s Prayer, we see that God is in Heaven.

“…When ye pray, say, Our Father which art in heaven…. “—Luke 11:2.

And Jesus said that Heaven is within each and every one of us.

“…for, behold, the kingdom of God is within you.”—Luke 17:21.

If Heaven is within, then God is within each and every one of us. Further, God made everything.

“All things were made by him; and without him was not any thing made that was made.”—John 1:3.

And so God exists not only within the people, but within, and as, everything.

As you go through your day, stop as often as you can, and note whatever you see, hear, touch, taste, and smell; all of it is God. This is the definition of infinity. Because, keep in mind, there are many more things in the universe than what’s in front of you. God is all of that too.

Look at your fingers. That’s God. The color of them is God. The sound of you snapping your fingers, their smell, texture, length, width, and so on, all of it is God.

The basic definition that I use in all of these essays is this:

“He that loveth not knoweth not God; for God is love.”—1 John 4:8.

Since God is love, then that’s why we need to love every one and every thing.

“…Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”—Matthew 25:40.

That’s because all of it is God. And since Heaven, and therefore God, is within you, by loving everything, you are doing good for, and loving, yourself. This understanding is the revelation, the a-ha! moment that destroys your world of sin, throws your demons into hell—which is the absence of Heaven, of God—and, therefore throws your demons away from you, causing you to be reborn.

“And I John saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down from God out of heaven, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.”—Revelation 21:21.

The new Jerusalem written of in the Revelation is a new you, a life without the lingering of sin. We extirpate sin by forgiving others, as well as ourselves. And we forgive through prayer.

We must not forget to forgive ourselves. This is crucial.

“And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.”—Matthew 6:12.

God will forgive us, but only if we forgive first. So when I am the trespasser, then God will forgive me only after I have forgiven myself. If I don’t, the sin stays with me, the guilt remains. And when Judgment Day comes, God will judge me. Since God is within me, then I will actually be judging myself.

“For the Father judgeth no man, but hath committed all judgment unto the Son.”—John 5:22.

God has given judgment over to Jesus. And while this is a fine point, Jesus is the word, and the word is God.

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”—John 1:1.

Jesus is also the light.

“[John the Baptist] came for a witness, to bear witness of the Light, that all men through him might believe.”—John 1:7.

And the light was made by God.

“And God said, Let there be light: and there was light.”—Genesis 1:3.

And Jesus is his commandment.

“A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one another.”—John 13:34.

Love cannot exist without forgiveness. Since God is love, then Jesus (God’s only begotten son) is forgiveness.

“For God so loved the world that He gave the only begotten Son, so that everyone believing in Him should not perish, but should have eternal life. / For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved.”—John 3:16-17.

Before Judgment Day comes, then, we need to forgive everyone, which is to say, love everyone—including, especially, ourselves.

This is my new mindfulness exercise: Through prayer, I forgive myself when I sin. I also forgive myself for everything in the past, that I haven’t forgiven myself for yet. That, too, I do through prayer.

This requires introspection. While in prayer, look deeply. Remember. Go through the book of your life. Be honest with yourself.

“And I saw the dead, small and great, stand before God; and the books were opened: and another book was opened, which is the book of life: and the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the books, according to their works.”—Revelation 20:12.

I know my sins. They’ve held me down, imprisoned me long enough! I’ve done my time, paid my debt. So have you. It’s time for parole, a new life.

Stay aware. Keep God with you, through prayer, so you’ll see your sins as they happen. Then forgive yourself.

I developed a little equation that helps me to know when I’ve practiced forgiveness: Understanding + Acceptance = Forgiveness.

To forgive someone, even ourselves, we have to understand (or empathize with) them. Why did they sin? Was it a matter of survival? We are all liable to do anything if we are desperate enough. Survival doesn’t need to be taken literally, as life or death, but as their way of life—the loss of which can be just as scary as death.

Did they sin out of pride? What all have you done to maintain your pride?

“Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall.”—Proverbs 16:18.

Pride is a basic weakness. We all experience it. We all sin. Stay mindful through prayer.

“…He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.”—John 8:7.

Keep God with you, so you will be less likely to slip into hypocritical, self-righteous indignation.

“Either how canst thou say to thy brother, Brother, let me pull out the mote that is in thine eye, when thou thyself beholdest not the beam that is in thine own eye? Thou hypocrite, cast out first the beam out of thine own eye, and then shalt thou see clearly to pull out the mote that is in thy brother’s eye.”—Luke 6:42.

If you walk, then you can’t (or shouldn’t) blame others for walking. We all walk differently, so we shouldn’t blame others for keeping their own pace.

Did they sin just to be mean? This is probably the hardest one. Sometimes we’re mean just to be hateful. Face it. Understand that anger builds like steam in a kettle. If we don’t deliberately, purposefully, release the pressure, then it will escape on its own, with or without our consent.

We must remain aware, through prayer, of our sins, and forgive ourselves so that our debts don’t pile up.

God exists in all of us, individually and as a whole. Therefore, we are tethered to each other—sharing breath, time, space, dreams, desires, and a need to be respected and accepted for who we are. We are all a manifestation of God, a particular expression that is unique in the universe.

Understand this, and you will be reborn.

Acceptance is the second term in the forgiveness equation. For it, we need another equation: Love + Humility = Acceptance.

“And whosoever shall exalt himself shall be abased; and he that shall humble himself shall be exalted.”—Matthew 23:12.

We must humble ourselves before God. The sea is so vast, powerful, and beyond understanding; and my boat is so small.

“For in the multitude of dreams and many words there are also divers vanities: but fear thou God.”—Ecclesiastes 5:7.

When the Bible tells us to fear God, what it means is that we should respect and humble ourselves—as we do when we‘re afraid—before the awesome, unfathomable universe, and the one true God that/who/whom is even greater than the universe.

As your eyes and ears are a part of you, we are all parts of the universe: aspects, archetypal traits of God. Though every one of us is a vicarious substitute for God, a way for the universe to know itself—or, at least, a part of itself—we are not, actually, God.

In Eden, the first temptation is the desire to be God.

“For God doth know that in the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil.”—Genesis 3:5.

This temptation caused the fall of humanity, the expulsion from paradise. Don’t underestimate our will to power. The shame caused by our weaknesses—our inability to conquer, or even stand before the overwhelming universal hurricane—provokes an ironic, unrealistic perspective: that we are in control.

We’re not. Face it. Accept it, through humble prayer. You and I are not the captains of our small boats. Even if we are, the frothing, towering waves take us where they take us, which is often nowhere near our planned destination.

Be mindful, throughout your day, of what becomes of your plans—of how many times you must alter, adjust, and reconfigure them, in your desire to maintain your chosen course. The sea takes your tiny boat where it wills. You are the observer, chronicler, subject, and worshiper, not the captain.

I once asked my grandfather, the now-deceased Southern Baptist preacher, whose Bible I use to research these essays, what the Bible said about determinism and fatalism. Are we in control, or are we not?

He told me to imagine a big circle. This is God’s will. Then imagine a smaller circle inside of the larger one. This is your will.

Be mindful, through prayer, of this difference, and the similarity. Your will is God’s will, since God made everything, and exists within everything. But, at the same time, it is your will.

Did God really think that Adam and Eve wouldn’t eat the apple? Of course not. God made the apple and serpent, as well as Adam and Eve. God made the apple appear succulent and desirable. God made desire, invented temptation, and our weakness to the will of power.

“And when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be desired to make one wise, she took of the fruit thereof, and did eat, and gave also unto her husband with her; and he did eat.”—Genesis 3:6.

Eve chose to eat it. Adam chose it as well. Therefore, we choose to suffer by living apart from God. We prefer the slums of Earth to the rich, verdant garden of Heaven. But since that is our choice, then we can choose, instead, to be reborn. Through prayer and mindfulness of God, we can be like Abraham, Moses, Joseph, Joshua, Jesus, Peter, and St. John the divine (author of the Revelation). We can leave the homes of our fathers, and make the pilgrimage to the promised land.

“Now the Lord had said unto Abram, Get thee out of thy country, and from thy kindred, and from thy father’s house, unto a land that I will shew thee.”—Genesis 12:1.

We must be humble enough to admit that we don’t know everything. We must be mindful enough to accept that we are off course: full of anger, hatred, and doubt, and the delusion that we are God, instead of a small, but necessary part of God.

Once we understand our position in this vast ocean, then we can follow the stars to the port of our Heavenly Father, and be reborn.

I first learned of mindfulness meditation, a Buddhist practice, from an atheist friend, whose journey of practical and provable spirituality is a source of inspiration to me.

The idea is that we don’t spend much time in the present. When faced with a problem, we look to the past for old, known solutions, and to the future for possible ramifications. And since we’re always facing problems, then our minds are never (or rarely) focused on what we’re actually doing.

When applied to Christianity, I realized that this makes us susceptible to sin. If we aren’t paying attention to what’s here and now, then how can we see the love that’s here and now? All we see is the pain of yesterday, and the anxiety of tomorrow.

“Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”—Luke 23:34.

I don’t know what I’m doing, because my eye isn’t on the ball.

Over the past few months, I’ve developed a series of meditations that keeps me focused on the present, on the love and connection between all things—which is the practical way I think of God.

“He that loveth not knoweth not God; for God is love.”—I John 4:8.

My first step was to forgive every sin that I encountered.

“For if ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you: / But if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.”—Matthew 6:14-15.

It doesn’t take theft or murder to be a sin. The little things pile up. The longer people go unforgiven in our hearts, the heavier and darker our hearts become. We have to take out the trash.

I never realized how many small, annoying sins there are.

I live in North Carolina, where they love their big pickup trucks. In my apartment parking lot, I’m ready to back out of my space, but I can’t see. The trucks are blocking my view.

This may seem like nothing, a small source of annoyance, that some people would block the view of other drivers, so that they could raise themselves higher. But it creates darkness in me; I have to get it out of there.

So I forgave the pickup drivers, and the person speeding through the parking lot, who almost hit me as I edged blindly from my space. Then I forgave the person who invented speed bumps, and those who thought it was a good idea to place them throughout my apartment complex.

I forgave the people who wouldn’t move to the inside lane, so I could merge onto the four-lane road. I certainly had to forgive whoever decided to put a blinking stoplight for a left-hand turn at a busy intersection.

All of that sounds really petty. And maybe it is. A drop of water isn’t going to drown me. But if that drop is joined by others, and I don’t allow any of it to drain, then, eventually, I will drown.

I felt silly, though, forgiving everyone of everything. But I knew those small, selfish infractions were bugging me. By facing this, I realized that my annoyance was a testament to my weakness. I’m the one who needed to be forgiven, because I judged all those people for doing what comes naturally.

“Judge not, and ye shall not be judged: condemn not, and ye shall not be condemned: forgive, and ye shall be forgiven.”—Luke 6:37.

For my second step, I kept forgiving everyone, but I also forgave myself. So much forgiveness! It was overwhelming. I could barely keep track of it all. But it kept me in the moment. I felt God’s presence smiling at my audacity to acknowledge every sin, no matter how logically insignificant, beaming as I realized that I was the sinner, and urging me toward the next step.

This was how it went:

I forgive you; forgive me. I forgive you; forgive me. And so on.

The exercise taught me that we are not just connected by love, but sin as well. No matter how different we are, we all have love and sin in common.

I don’t sin much when I’m alone though. When no one is around to bug me, I’m a perfect angel. So, as I walked and prayed late at night, down the sidewalks in my apartment complex, I had no one to forgive. That’s when I took the third step in mindfulness meditation.

“…and, lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world.”—Matthew 28:20.

God is always there, no matter where we are. God was with the frog that hopped across my path, the leaf that fell, the crickets and their chorus, my heartbeat, the phase of the moon, feel of the air, etc.

I spoke that mantra for everything I saw: God is there…and there, and there—in the numbers on that license plate, the sound of my footsteps, everything. It quickly became my favorite meditation. I can do it at any time, for a few seconds, minutes, however long I need to remind myself that God is always with me, everyone, and everything. And that led me to my final (or current) steps.

I took that acknowledgement of the omnipresence of God, and applied it to other people. God is with that pickup driver, that person who invented the speed bump; and God is with me and you.

“…your Father knoweth what things ye have need of, before ye ask him.”—Matthew 6:8.

I don’t need to ask God to be with me. I don’t need to ask God for anything. All I need to do is acknowledge that God is with me, and accept the responsibility of conscience and compassion that comes with that protective presence.

I stayed in the moment, then, by acknowledging that God was everything I saw. It’s hard to hate someone, or be annoyed by them, once you realize that Heaven is in them, just as it is within you.

“…for, behold, the kingdom of God is within you.”—Luke 17:21.

Mindfulness meditation is acceptance of the moment, love of the present. It’s not about us asking for God’s blessing, but acknowledging that the blessing has already been given.