There is a will that operates twenty-four hours a day that is for you, and a will that operates twenty-four hours a day that is against you. You’re familiar with the will that works against you. It’s that will that drags you into internally and externally unprofitable, self-punishing moments. The will that works for you is that which forever says, “Look up. See that there is more to your life than what you presently embrace and that’s causing you this pain.” Put even more simply, the will that wants to raise you up is the will that makes it clear to you that there’s another will that’s trying to pull you down. Were it not for that elevating will, you would never recognize the harmful one.
If indeed it is true that there is a will that is trying to pull you down as well as a will that is trying to pull you up, how do either of these wills come to have power over you? How do they take hold of you to either pull you down or to help you up and out?
The fact is that you do have free will — in a sense. The free will you have is in the choice you make to align yourself with either the will that is ascending or the will that is descending.
Picture a hand reaching from below to pull you down, and another hand reaching from above to pull you up. At any moment (even now while you’re reading this), your hand is either in the hand of the will that is ascending, or it’s in the hand of the will that is descending — and it’s your choice. Don’t fall for the lie that says, “No, it’s not my choice because I have to get depressed, I have to get angry, I have to get frightened.” No, you don’t. It’s the voice of deception that accompanies the hand from below that insists you have no choice. In fact, you always have the choice.
Real life never stops starting over, but before one can dwell in this this newness—and know its unencumbered freedom—one must let go of any and all attachments in the past that produce a painful sense of self.
In this short talk, Guy Finley talks about what it means to let go of something without needing to know beforehand the outcome of that sacrifice.
Distinct moments come along the upper path when it feels as if a dam has burst in one’s heart; wild waters of unknown emotions race into and through the canyons and once-sealed chambers of consciousness, washing clean all that has come before. Everything trembles in their passing. The mind races as well, but more for its uncertainty than in accord; it seeks to contain these forces before they can carry away its reason.
These innermost stirrings are the sometimes frightening effect of the soul’s awakening, where each breath it draws reveals the presence of unimaginable influences and latent powers beyond the aspirant’s ability to control. But the movement of these celestial forces must not be dampened simply because we’ve yet to understand the purpose of their presence within us. They are not asking us to know what they want; these forces are self-organizing.
They race and swirl and disrupt and digest all in their path because they are building something anew from themselves within us, so that we must turn them loose—we must let go of what we might hope to extract from them and, instead, allow them to exact their celestial influences upon our soul.
These energies are the new blood: they are stirrings of spirit that speak to us in wild pulsations whose origins are the stars. We cannot know their native language any more than our physical ears can hear the intelligence inherent in the light of awareness, which is why we must allow their impressions to assemble within us without interference.
They seek to build a new universe of infinite individual galaxies; and we—each of us—are the matrix, star stuff, and deep space created for their celestial nurturing if we will agree to our part in this divine revelation of the immortal Self.