Tag: infinity

Seeing God’s Face in an Orchid

Photograph © 2018 Peggy Kornegger
Does God have a face? Absolutely. But not just one—an infinite number. As many faces as there are humans, animals, birds, and insects on Earth. As many faces as there are trees, flowers, bushes, rocks, and sand particles. As many faces as there are mountains, deserts, plains, oceans, rivers, and glaciers. Cells, molecules, and atoms. And then there’s the entire universe with every planet, star, asteroid, and constellation a different face of God. You can’t count the facial manifestations of God in the cosmos because God is infinity itself.

This morning as I watered my plants on the lanai, I looked into the variegated purple-and-white face of an orchid I had recently bought. Orchids are new to me as a gardener. In Massachusetts, it wasn’t an option I considered. Here in Florida, they thrive in the year-round warm weather. They have an exotic feel to them, and I still am in awe of their exquisite other-worldly beauty and almost-human facial features. Something made me pause and study every detail of this orchid’s “face” until I felt I was gazing into the very heart of creation, all in one flower. This was the face of God. And the gift was that, with tears in my eyes, I recognized that unique expression of divinity before me and within me simultaneously.

Moments like this one are powerful reminders of all the ways that God expresses beauty in this world. Each flower, each bird, each butterfly, is an emissary of delight from the Divine. We humans are the recipients of this incredible limitless bounty every day of our lives. How could we walk by all these beautiful manifestations of love in the world and fail to see them as miracles? We lose our way and forget. But now is the time of awakening on this planet. A time to recognize the sweet presence of spirit that surrounds us at all times and to be grateful. Indeed, to live each moment of our lives as a prayer of gratitude for all we are given. Life can be painful, yes. But it’s also heavenly. One flower, one birdsong, one infinite blue sky, can turn your day around and make life feel livable again. The beauty of the Earth can uplift our souls at unexpected moments.

Yesterday, on my morning walk, my body was feeling listless and tired because I hadn’t slept well. Just when my thoughts began to take a turn toward sadness, three huge pileated woodpeckers flew by me, calling loudly, and landed on a tree branch above me. These birds are 15 inches tall with striking black-and-white crested heads—you can’t see them without stopping to stare. Immediately, I felt excited energy race through me, and I stood there smiling in sheer delight as I gazed upward. I knew God had sent me a reminder of life’s wonders at the very second I needed it.

Photograph © 2018 Peggy Kornegger

There have been so many times when I am outdoors walking quietly somewhere in a natural setting and I feel the spirit of God rise within, filling me with a profound love that seems to light the world around me. Everything sparkles with vibrant energy, and I am uplifted and renewed. At those moments, I can feel Mother Earth herself moving in synchronicity with the stars, and I know this is why I was born—to see this light and be it in the world myself. Every one of us is here for this. We are God’s orchids, embodying the rainbow colors of divine light, so that the planet itself shines brighter in the cosmos.

 

Finding Home

Photograph © 2018 Peggy Kornegger
It seems that we are always getting ready for something. Always preparing for the next step, even though the next step will come whether we prepare for it or not. We think we have control of our lives but we don’t. We pack and unpack our memories, accumulating more and more—until death arrives to show us how memories fall away as does the illusion of control. To move from one place to another is to experience a death of sorts and a loosening of control. Every ending is an opening to something greater.

When I moved to Florida from Massachusetts last month, I could feel my consciousness loosening and opening up as we drove south, state by state. By the time we reached Florida, I felt completely detached from any one place. It was almost as if my awareness was free-floating over the entire eastern seaboard, perhaps even beyond that. In moving, I had been letting go of former selves as well as physical objects and familiar places. Even time. As I traveled from New England through the southern states, time and place became almost meaningless. There was nothing but the present moment, in a very intense way. Nothing was familiar, everything new—something I’ve experienced in every major move I’ve made in my life. Yet, this time it’s a little different.

In this key transitional move, the letting go is deeper, the awareness more expansive. I am older than the 20-year-year-old self who left the Midwest to be a California flower child so many years ago. The past and the future seem equidistant in my mind. Soul guidance is at the forefront of my life now, and that shifts every perspective, inner and outer. Even that distinction loses its meaning because everything is within me. The external is just a reflection of my infinite soul’s progression through time and space.

My soul is non-localized: unattached to Massachusetts, Florida, Illinois, California, or any of the other places I’ve lived in or traveled through over the years. I am experiencing myself as Being, without location or identity. Almost as if I am a visitor from another planet or galaxy. Actually, aren’t we all that? Dropped down from some other dimension onto this blue planet floating in a sea of stars called the Milky Way. We are stardust ourselves, shining light on the world around us as we move through our lives. When we meet as our separate paths merge, there is recognition, an awakening realization that we are here together to embody connection and love, to transform our lives and everything around us with that love.

As I passed through Connecticut, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Maryland, Virginia, the Carolinas, Georgia, and finally reached Florida, I watched the skies themselves transform, the heavenly towering white clouds dramatically darkening with daily thunderstorms and lightning flashes in the humid heat. Palm trees lined the road; tropical bushes and flowers proliferated. Observing it all, I was neither here nor there, but everywhere. I was part of the eternal movement into the unknown. Yes, this is why I moved, not knowing anything except that I was to go. To let go and go. Spirit is moving me, all of us, on our soul journeys.

Spirit survives the packing and unpacking, living and dying. It is within us and all around us and has no beginning or end. It moves to its own cadence, beyond human events and activities. When we step into this perceptual field—this greater awareness of the source of all life—beginnings, endings, arrivals, and departures fall away, and we are Home. No need to hang on or resist; the entire journey exists in this very moment. Breathe deeply and see the far horizon that lives within you. This is infinity; this is God. This is who you are.

Fear of Flying—Let Go, Let God

Photograph © 2017 Peggy Kornegger
I used to be the classic “white-knuckle flyer.” I was in such a terrified state that I would clutch the armrests and tightly squeeze my partner’s hand to the point of cutting off her circulation. And this wasn’t only during episodes of turbulence; it was at every takeoff and landing and throughout the flight. Anti-anxiety drugs like Xanax or Valium had little effect. Wine only made me sleepy. Visualizations and positive affirmations couldn’t touch the core of my fear. I was convinced I was going to die at every sound or movement of the plane. It took courage to keep flying in the face of that, but I did. Still, no matter how I tried to reframe airplane travel, I remained stuck in my mind’s perceptual prison of danger and unease.

That is, until I met Panache Desai. It wasn’t just the expansive spiritual framework that he introduced me to. It was the experience of God that I first had through his programs and in his presence. The terror of infinity/eternity I had felt since childhood (which was probably feeding my fear of flying) gradually softened into tentative trust in something greater than my own singular life—and finally faith. I began to experience infinity as God, as a peace-filled spaceless space, which, if I surrendered to it, completely enfolded me in its loving embrace. It was an experience of the soul not the mind. That is what changed everything, slowly but monumentally.

I gradually began to fly without fear. At takeoff, I would relax into the power of the energy that was lifting me into space. It was exhilarating instead of terrifying. When the plane floated downward toward the landing strip, my consciousness floated with it. During the flight, I started to look out the window to see the worlds we were passing through instead of staring straight ahead or sitting rigidly with my eyes closed. Prairies and mountains, rivers and lakes, constantly changing clouds, sunrise and sunset, all were visible beyond the plane’s windows, and I had refused to look for years. Suddenly, I couldn’t stop looking, and I began to request window rather than aisle seats. I was Alice stepping through the looking glass into the full magic of life on (and above) Earth.

The flight during which it really hit home that I was no longer frightened was between Boston and San Francisco. I was meditating quietly as we crossed over the Midwest and headed westward. Suddenly, something moved me to open my eyes and look out, and there beneath the plane was the entire span of the snow-covered Rocky Mountains reflecting radiant light in the morning sun. The shining peaks stretched into the distance, their magnificence filling me with awe and bringing tears to my eyes. I was looking through the eyes of my soul, and my soul saw God, saw infinity, and knew no fear.

Ever since then, I have felt deeply connected to God when I fly. “Connected” isn’t quite the right word. The experience is of God looking out at God, everywhere. There is nothing within me or within my gaze that isn’t God. And being thousands of feet up in the air allows me to have that infinite divine perspective. One that is different from that we have on the ground. What we see here is miraculous and beautiful. What we see up there is beyond words.

Last month, on a plane from Dallas to Santa Barbara, I was able to experience the Southwest from above in a way that opened up my consciousness even further. I have traveled, and hiked, there many times over the years, but now I was seeing the whole area as one limitless vision: the pink expanse of the Painted Desert, the red cliffs and rock formations of the Sedona area, and the sandy brown and beige desert nuances in between. The topography was of a piece, not cut up to fit a state map or a hiker’s trail guide. It was all one, and in looking at it from above, instead of immersed in it, I could see the seamlessness of all life. I could see God. On the other side of all my fear was wonder, infinite wonder. And profound gratitude.

 

View from the Edge—Our Human Journey

Photograph © 2017 Peggy Kornegger
I seem to be living on the edge in my life. By that, I don’t mean hanging precariously in a danger zone. I mean delicately balanced between one paradigm and another, old and new, memory and present, personality and soul. Actually, the truer description is that my soul is fully present in the new paradigm, and “I” am increasingly aligned with that pure being-ness, observing remnants of old memories floating by me. I have a sense that this is where many of us are now, as the world “turns upside-down” all around us, and we step over the edge of certainty into mystery, and beyond. We are learning to live from an awareness and a soul presence that is continuously evolving.

So much is happening and not happening, everywhere at once. At times, I am floating in the space between the memory of who I once was and the timeless presence that is my soul. However, more and more, I am immersed in my soul’s wholeness, viewing my personality and my life story as if from a distance. This has been a process of gradually expanding into a deeper connection to spirit, which can often transcend stories and past memories. Last month, this all played out in one intense afternoon at Mt. Auburn Cemetery, a nature/spiritual sanctuary where I often walk or sit in meditation. As I passed beneath the towering old trees at Mt. Auburn, I stepped into a kind of life review in which I experienced both my own mortality (singularity, separation) and God’s infinity (oneness).

Gazing at the play of light reflected in the water of Mt. Auburn’s Spectacle Pond, suddenly I became acutely aware of my own eventual death and the shortness of my time on Earth. Perhaps because my birthday had just passed, I found myself looking back over my life with a pang of grief in my heart: it was all so rich and wonderful—and so brief, in the greater scheme of things. So many years had passed, and how many remained? And how would I live them? An urgency filled me, a deep desire not to waste a minute, to step fully into every possibility. Yet, at the same time, I felt suspended in time, with no desire to act or move at all. All I could do was cry at the bittersweet poignancy of human life and the ephemeral nature of my physical form.

After a time, I walked to Willow Pond, on the other side of the cemetery. As I came over the hill, I saw a pair of blue herons circling low overhead, like two avian sky dancers embodying grace and beauty as they flew. One landed at the top of a tall willow and stood in profile, preening like a prehistoric bird in paradise. Indeed, everything around me seemed Eden-like: large clumps of purple, yellow, pink, and white flowers that were magnets for dozens of bees and butterflies; a kingfisher calling loudly and diving to spear a fish; swallows swooping to catch insects mid-air; red cardinal flowers, wetland grasses, and willows encircling the pond. I sat beneath a tree whose branches hung low over the water and felt as if I were in another dimension. God’s dimension, where divinity dripped from every plant, tree, animal, bird, and butterfly. In this magical space, death did not exist. Everything was eternal, infinite. My heart and soul were at peace.

In the space of a few hours, I had moved from solitary sadness to euphoric connection. So much so that as I left the pond, the mere sight of a familiar old oak tree along the path, its massive trunk and branches reaching heavenward, reduced me to tears again, this time from the deep inner knowing that the expansive consciousness we call God or Goddess lives in all things, always. We carry that formless presence within us, and the more we open to our own soul’s light, the more clearly and consistently we see it everywhere. That was my journey that afternoon (and our collective human journey now): to come to fully understand that God’s loving presence is not limited in any way, in life or death, Heaven or Earth. Those of us who incarnated at this time are here to live that truth so completely and powerfully that separation is finally dissolved within a planetary oneness and radiant light that reaches the far corners of the cosmos.

 

The Woman Who Feared Infinity

© 2015 Anne S. Katzeff / Artist
© 2015 Anne S. Katzeff / Artist
If you’ve seen the film The Man Who Knew Infinity, based on the life of Indian mathematician Srinivasa Ramanujan, you will recognize the reference above. Ramanujan was a highly advanced mathematical genius with relatively little educational background in the field. He was primarily self-taught. His theorems and ideas were brilliant, ground-breaking, and 100 years later are still being studied. According to a number of sources, his work was inextricably connected to his deep devotion to his spiritual practice. In the film, his character explains: “An equation has no meaning to me unless it expresses the thought of God.” Other great scientists and mathematicians have recognized that same connection; Galileo, for instance: “Mathematics is the language in which God has written the universe.” Ramanujan lived and expressed this truth. His unconventional mathematical thinking, often revealing the effects without the cause, or proof, came from a place within him that was connected to the infinite, to God. Because of this, he became a clear vessel for God’s light of universal truth to shine through him.

I watched The Man Who Knew Infinity twice, weeping each time, moved by something beyond the poignancy of Ramanujan’s life story. I identified with his connection to God and the infinite that defined his life. Infinity has defined my life too, but almost in reverse. All my life I have feared infinity, run from it in terror—until finally I found that I was running from something that would change my life forever. Through my work with Panache Desai, I stopped running and faced infinity. In the process, I discovered that infinity was divine, was God—something Ramanujan knew all his life in the deepest part of his soul. He was an embodiment of that spiritual truth. He lived it. He began his life at the place that I am just now experiencing.

For whatever reason, I was given the life path of moving through intense fear in order to discover profound divine connection. I am the woman who feared infinity. Yet I am becoming the woman who now recognizes infinity as the deepest, most powerful immersion in universal consciousness. Fear is really the reverse of knowing at the soul level. It is the last barrier to embracing the Great Mystery and merging with God. As I let go of fear more and more, I come to understand what cannot be expressed in words but only felt intensely in the heart. To be human is to fall through the black hole of fear, confusion, and aloneness into the light of a love that is completely unconditional and unlimited. This is God.

Perhaps that is the journey we are all on in our own unique ways. Some individuals, like Ramanujan or Panache Desai, have a clarity of vision that lights the way for those around them, who then in turn share that light with others. The light of knowing, which we all carry deep within us, is the soul’s shining wisdom. When released from the fears that surround it, this knowing lifts us to a place of harmony, peace, and continuous spiritual connection. Some would call this living with the Bigger Picture always in view. We are able to see clearly what the purpose of life on Earth really is: to become clear vessels for God’s light to shine through and illuminate the world around us.