My Chosen Ideal | Steve Beckow

My Chosen Ideal

April 11, 2020
by Steve Beckow



My chosen ideal in art: The soul abides as a Light in the deepest part of the heart; namely, the seat of the soul. It is the treasure buried in a field. Credit: Ute Possega-Rudel

If it isn’t part of the Divine Plan that each of us should have a chosen ideal, I’m going to suggest it to God next time I speak to her.

Hindus have a tradition of worshipping a “Chosen ideal” – Krishna, Shiva, the Divine Mother, and so on.

For the record, my own chosen ideals are Sri Ramakrishna in his earthly life and Archangel Michael on the other side.

But one doesn’t need to have a chosen ideal in avatars and archangels. One can have a chosen ideal in almost anything, eh?

Well, I was in the shower … as always, one of my shower moments … and I had this realization about me and my chosen ideal in life, my chosen way of being, existence and interface with the world.

The realization was that: I was not living in Love.

Oh my Gawd. It was true. I live in lots of other spaces, but not in love. No blame attached. Just what’s so.

I got at that moment that living in love was my chosen ideal among ways of being to choose from.

Without love, what’s left? Happiness is the best it gets. That’s Ok, but not a home run.

Don’t forget that, with the heart opening of 2015 (now subsided), I crossed a bridge between not knowing what real, authentic, higher-dimensional love was to knowing. I actually know what love is now. Once crossed over, one never forgets something like that.

And I’m not living in it. Factor in that my short-term memory remains atrocious so I’m in the shower, racing to get to the computer before all this passes into the sea of forgetfulness.

I am not living in love – and I realize it. I can’t hide its full implications from myself any longer.

In 1976, six weeks into a three-month encounter group at Cold Mountain Institute, I got, as a realization, that I was out of touch with my feelings. I ran down the path, shouting at the top of my lungs, I’m out of touch with my feelings. It was a watershed moment.

This one is too. I’ve talked about this on other occasions, but from an intellectual standpoint. I’ve said that the experience of love has subsided. I’ve said that I can still get wisps of it, that are fulfilling – which remains true. I’ve said I’ll never forget what I learned. All very wistful. But no love there.

But I get it now at the level of realization: I am not living in love.

Oh my heavens.

Immediately the question arises: Well, why not?

Source: Golden Age of Gaia