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Not that long ago, I was immersed in a spiritual philosophy called Science of Mind—not to be confused with Scientology.
Science of Mind is a metaphysical practice rooted in the belief that we are already perfect in the realm of spirit, a truth that continues to resonate deeply with me.
During my time as an active member of this faith practice, I learned lessons that still shape how I move through the world. The principles of unity, belonging, and divine perfection felt like a homecoming—a reminder of something I’d always known but hadn’t fully realized.
In 2021, I embarked on a two-year practitioner program, diving deeply into teachings that had profoundly supported me over the years. Coming from a non-religious background, concepts like being “devout” or living a life of faith in a structured way were new to me. Still, the idea intrigued me. I embraced the challenge and immersed myself in the study, focusing on Affirmative Prayer—a practice designed to affirm our innate connection to the divine and help us remember who we truly are. It’s a beautiful and powerful tool, offering a structured way to ground ourselves in spiritual truth and alignment.
As I delved deeper into this journey, I encountered Joel Goldsmith and his philosophy of the Infinite Way. Goldsmith, a theologian and philosopher, offered a perspective on prayer that stopped me in my tracks.
Joel posed a profound question: if we truly believe we are an aspect of the divine, and this belief is unwavering, what could we possibly pray for? He suggested that prayer often becomes a plea, unintentionally reinforcing a sense of lack and separation from the very thing we seek. While there’s nothing inherently wrong with prayer or using Affirmative Prayer to reconnect with our divinity (we all need that reminder sometimes), Joel’s perspective planted a seed within me.
His insights ultimately led me to step away from the practitioner program a year early and refocus my faith practice on aligning with the simple yet powerful truth: I am an expression of the divine.
Fast forward to today, and I find myself navigating one of the most challenging experiences of my life: watching someone I deeply love battle a relentless, incurable cancer. It’s the kind of pain that leaves you breathless with grief and rage, wanting to scream at the stars, plead with the Universe, and kick inanimate things.
As someone trained in energy work, I want to fix it. I want to heal her. I want to send the exact right frequency of energy to cure her body, mind, and spirit. I want to rewrite the ending. But it doesn’t work that way.
Anticipatory grief is its own kind of heartbreak.
And so, here I sit, in utter vulnerability—a space so raw it feels unbearable and yet undeniably potent. Because the miracle, I’ve come to realize, isn’t in finding the perfect prayer or energy. It’s not in fixing or changing the situation, as much as every fiber of my being longs to. The miracle, as I’ve come to see it, lies within Joel Goldsmith’s ideology.
Life is unfolding through me. Life is unfolding through my friend. Life simply is—and that, in itself, is the beautiful miracle.
To resist this truth is to tell Life, the Divine, and the Universe, “You’re wrong. I know better.” But when I become still—when I allow myself to feel the flow of life moving through me, through my friend, and through everything around us—there’s a profound shift.
This is surrender—not giving up, but stepping into alignment. It’s not denial; it’s about embracing the energetic flow that allows ease, rather than holding onto dis-ease.
Dis-ease isn’t just a physical condition—it’s a state of being. And while choosing ease over resistance isn’t always simple, it’s a choice that can transform everything.
Sitting in this awareness doesn’t erase the grief, but it changes how it lives within me. It creates space for peace, even in the midst of pain. And that peace—that shift—is where healing resides.
Art Credit:
Designs by Lisa K.
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