Susan Dugan
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Susan Dugan's collection of forgiveness essays, Extraordinary Ordinary Forgiveness, www.O-Books.com, offers an intimate, humorous account of one woman’s journey harnessing the extraordinary power of A Course in Miracles’ forgiveness in an ordinary life. Far from dry and theoretical, the book grabs the reader, draws him in, and keeps him thoroughly entertained while demonstrating the inner transformation available when we honestly commit to getting over ourselves. A Course student and teacher, Dugan posts weekly about her personal experience with A Course in Miracles powerful mind healing at www.foraysinforgiveness.com, a site that offers additional growing content including interviews with Course scholar Ken Wapnick, PhD, questions and answers about practicing forgiveness, and information on personal mentoring.Along with Ken Wapnick, Gary Renard and other Course teachers, Dugan is featured in the documentary A Course in Miracles: the Movie.
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Some things will never end
My teenage daughter had been chosen to sing a duet in her high school’s end-of-the-year POPS concert. In his fifteen years in the role, the choirmaster had only chosen freshman for solos once before. It made my daughter feel special. I am sorry to say it made me feel pretty damn special, too. As a very young girl I had written plays and coerced my brothers, neighborhood children, and even an aging Labrador Retriever into performing for the adults in our basement and backyard.
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You can go home again
You can go home again “We know nothing. You are now up to speed.”rn-Steve Martin as Inspector Clouseau, Pink Panther 2 In the set I constructed in which to act out my coming of age there are many flags and many fences. Stone walls that once protected revolutionary freedom fighters from the Red Coats continue to dissect weed-choked territory, proclaiming old victories and bemoaning old slaughters. Signs boast first roads, Benedict A old’s sneaky ways, and the random honor of our nation’s founder George Washington bunking down on plank floors for the night.
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He dropped dead
“He dropped dead,” said the stranger beside me at the local Japanese diner. He sat as if in prayer, leaning forward over the counter toward a woman who appeared to be the owner and clearly recognized him. In my peripheral visio I took in the blur of his physical attributes: African American with gray-flocked hair, probably in his late sixties. A little overweight, eyes saucer-like at the tale of his friend’s sudden demise. He clung to the Japanese woman’s fingers as she listened.
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Let me recognize my problems have been solved
Let me recognize my problems have been solved “Don't take life too seriously. You'll never get out alive!”rn-Bugs Bunny The persona I keep forgetting I am not is such a drama queen. My father used to call her Sarah Be hardt after the silent film melodrama star. My junior high friends called her Crusader Rabbit after the vintage cartoon character and sometimes, Susan of Arc for her impassioned pleas on behalf of truth, justice, and the American way.
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What I have learned from my dog
Over the past few months the idea of getting a dog had blossomed in my mind. My daughter had begun to drive and would be a high school senior next year. College loomed. I also sensed my troubled relationship with our aging cat Daisy Mae drawing to a close. She had begun behaving like a person with Alzheimer’s; I would catch her standing at the base of our neighbor’s porch gazing upward, as if trying to figure out why someone had switched the façade on her people’s house.
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Awakening happens (and happens, and happens, and happens)
Over decades of spiritual searching I have met a handful of people who claim to have awakened to the truth beyond the dream of separate interests, the lives we believe we are living in this world. Most have undergone spontaneous, dramatic shifts in awareness usually following a particularly traumatic experience such as physically dying for a few moments or coming very close to death. Others reached a point of psychological suffering wherein the realization that they could choose instead to experience wholeness finally dawned on them.
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I am entitled to change my mind
About eight years before I started studying A Course in Miracles and truly recognized it as my path home a close friend and fellow spiritual seeker gave me the big blue book. Someone had passed it on to her and although she recognized on some level that it held great wisdom, she just couldn’t get through it. “Read this,” she said. “Maybe you’ll get it.” Skipping the introduction and preface in my typical rush to ascend I opened it to the first page of the text and read: “There is no order of difficulty in miracles. One is not ‘harder’ or ‘bigger’ than another.
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A meaningless world engenders fear
So far this seems to be the winter of dreaming myself closer to waking awareness that I am actually living a dream of my own making, and not even a very entertaining one at that. In the most recent sleeping version now available on DVD, I found myself in a movie multiplex along with thousands of fellow film buffs apparently attending some kind of marathon festival.
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The house that guilt built
I was walking my dog on another oddly mild December day here in Denver, Colorado, the kind of weather that would have catapulted pre-A Course in Miracles Susan into a frenzied contemplation of the inevitability of global warming. But today, in the throes of another imaginary interview with Jesus, the symbol of the one mind healed of the thought of separation the Course uses to lead us home to the one Love we never left, I wanted to truly understand the allure of my continuing impulse to take this dream and the figures that appear to populate it seriously.
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The Runaway Bunny
“Read it again, Mama,” my then two-year-old daughter would chant night after night at bedtime. And regardless of how tired I was, I would start over, vaguely conscious even then that my own little bunny would all too soon be running away as all little bunnies eventually do. “Once there was a little bunny who wanted to run away,” I read. “So he said to his mother, ‘I am running away,’” my daughter would chime in. She loved that part. “’If you run away,’ said his mother,” I continued, “‘I will run after you. For you are my little bunny.’”
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Objects of Projection
I suppose the clouds of squelched guilt had been gathering for some time in the dark recesses of my scant gray matter. Following a weekend in which I appeared to have remained remarkably right-minded despite distressing developments in the objects of my projectio I awoke once more mouthing the words of A Course in Miracles workbook lesson 185: “I want the peace of God.” “To say these words is nothing,” I read. “But to mean these words is everything.”
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Looking with Jesus: Now in 3-D
I knelt on the floor and shot Kayleigh’s well-wo cloth piggy down the long hall. “Strike one,” I said. Instead of fetching, my little dog merely blinked. Then she turned her back on me and pretended to scratch her belly. “We’re burning daylight here,” I told her, glancing at my watch. I wagered I had exactly 10 minutes to play with the dog like the good pet Mama I strive to be before heading back to my computer. “Speak for yourself, Mama,” I answered for Kayleigh as I often do, perfectly mimicking the little falsetto voice with which she converses with me in my imagination.
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