When I was a
small child growing up in a prairie village in Saskatchewan, I was a curious
and empathic child. I was three years old, my older sister was in school, and
my brothers were not yet in the picture. I had a great imagination and I liked
playing by myself. I liked to twirl and make my skirts float up. I liked to
look up at the clouds and imagine that they were goddesses, and animals, and
ships. I liked to think about life.
My mom was
pickling cucumbers. Onions were involved.
I was playing
outside and came tearing into the house for some reason, maybe it was to tell
mommy something or ask for a glass of water. Whatever the reason, it was soon
gone; one look at my mother and I knew that something was wrong. My mother
looked devastated – tears were rolling down her cheeks, her eyes were puffy and
red. I imagine I was greatly frightened; my mother from whom I had never seen
anything but love (and possibly anger) was crying. I flung my arms around her
legs and asked, “What’s wrong mommy?” I imagine my heart was beating rapidly
too. Without a confident caring mother, what could a small child depend
upon?
 |
| Not Really My Mom |
She just
wiped her eyes with the back of her hands and explained, “It’s nothing,
honey. It’s just these darn onions!” She
thought she had explained the whole thing, by saying it was nothing, but to me,
it was not NOTHING, it was EVERYTHING. My provider, protector, and guide was
made helpless, driven to tears, by “onions.” Onions must be very bad indeed.
From that
day on, during my childhood no-one could get me to eat onions. My mother put
them in everything, even fish sticks, and I always knew. She was always trying
to trick me to eat them. Even if I took
a bite, I couldn't swallow it. Onions
would stick in my throat
For many
years, I just thought I hated onions. When I was in high school, and started
understanding that there was a cause for everything, I asked mom if something
traumatic happened to me. Mom told me
the story. I thought knowledge would make it better. But still onions stick in
my throat. Yes, I know they are good for me. It is ironic that mom was trying
to help her child be a less-fussy eater, and I was unconsciously trying to
protect my mother from those ”bad” things.
This is a
simple example of how beliefs are formed and how they can affect our lives. It
is interesting to me that simply understanding that the original belief was
incorrect and even knowing the opposite is true, it has been very difficult to
change my beliefs.
It is
difficult to change beliefs and most of our beliefs, remain underneath the
field of awareness and scrutiny. Some of us think that that’s just the way the
world is. But God didn't make one kind of vegetable that was bad, regardless of
my personal preferences. All creation is part of the oneness that is an
expression of the Divine.
Great chefs
everywhere use onions as flavoring. It would be a good thing to change my mind
about onions, so that I could have a more enjoyable life. I will continue to
expand my awareness of good.
It brings me
to the question, what erroneous beliefs do you have that are stopping you from
living a sensational life? I don’t like onions, and that is too bad for me.
However, I have managed to live quite well just the way I am.
But are
there other unexamined beliefs, perhaps also starting with a childhood
perceptions, that really are making a difference in my life? It is likely so.
Ernest
Holmes wrote: “By far the largest part of our thinking processes are automatic,
casting, as it were, the images of their acceptance into the universal Mind
which reacts upon them. And thus it is that fear can bring about the condition
feared while faith can reverse it.”
So I am
determined to look through eyes of good and see good everywhere. I am
determined to know that I am an expression of love and that everything in my
life has been a response to love’s call. I am determined to use my knowledge to
help myself and others. Every memory contains a gift.
