The Light of the Masters 
Emanations of SERVICE
By Val Jon Farris 

 

 

In this article we continue our expedition to seven sacred peaks; a ring of summits that rise to the heavens like a jeweled crown of the Gods. From this luminous formation emanates the most powerful spiritual light in the world, the Light of the Masters. Like gravity holds together the universe’s celestial bodies, the Light of the Masters infuses an omnipotent unifying wisdom into every living entity. Its golden gem-like radiance dwells within all things and its presence is visible through the window of all the world’s religions and faiths. Moses witnessed its power in the burning bush of “I am that I am.” The Gnostics beheld it as “Gnosis,” or inspired knowledge. The Hindus experience it as “Kundalini,” an intense light energy that moves through the physical body. The common message among all the scriptures of antiquity is that this Master’s Light exists within us and all we need do is access it. 

The secret to accessing this wisdom and light lies in the “ring of seven summits” I mentioned above. Each “summit” represents a facet of spiritual wisdom, or a “dimension of knowing.” When all seven facets are accessed simultaneously the landscape of the soul is illuminated, revealing the infinite power of the Light of the Masters. The seven dimensions of knowing are Humility, Eternality, Truth, Passion, Sovereignty, Faith and Service. Why these seven and not others? Because they encompass the full spectrum of human experience and generate the core behaviors needed to embrace the infinite. 

The good news is that the seven dimensions of knowing already exist within us. The challenging news is that revealing their secrets can be an intense emotional experience. Contrary to popular belief, spiritual wisdom isn’t always bestowed through blissful or peaceful means. It sometimes takes an act of God, a tragedy or loss, or a humbling blow to the ego before we open to the divine. Like the cosmic forces that create, maintain and destroy stars, the Light of the Masters casts its lessons into the human soul with both grace and fury. It is through acts of devotion, trials of misfortune, expressions of love and onslaughts of pain that we are endowed with the Master’s Light. The challenge is to sift through the trauma and the drama of our lives until the gems of wisdom are revealed to us. 

I’m going to share a real life experience with you now that illuminates how to access a dimension of knowing and how to apply its wisdom. Join me now as we explore the seventh dimension of the Light of the Masters, Service. Together we will confront life and death and learn how to support others as they journey between these poles of existence. Prepare yourself to delve into a fascinating abyss between the dark fate of mortality and the light-hearted rapture of the divine. 

* * *
As I approach her room, I know this is the last time I will see my grandmother alive. Although she’s ninety-three, she isn’t dying of old age. Three days earlier my grandparents had been taking their daily walk, when a car accidentally hit them. My grandfather died instantly and my grandmother was rushed to the hospital. Bursting into her room I rush to her side. 

“Grandma I want you to get better real soon.” 

“I don’t want to get better!” she snaps. 

“But why?” I reply. 

“I have nothing to live for!” 

“There is a lot to live for Grandma.” 

“No! You don’t understand!” She screams. 

“Grandma, why are you angry?” 

“I’ve been lying here for three days waiting for God to take me, and he hasn’t come yet! I’m being punished for being a bad mother!” 

“Grandma, you weren’t a bad mother,” I console her. 

“Don’t you try and make me believe that! I should have given my kids more love. I could have protected them more from their father’s rage. If I had cared more for them they would’ve turned out much better.” 

I then realize something very important about our conversation. Every time I try to convince her of something, she reacts violently. Besides, why am I here? To serve my own needs, or to serve her? Even though I love her and want her to get better, the truth is, if she dies, I’ll be sad. If she leaves, I’ll feel the loss. Where will I turn for the special kind of love and affection she has always given me? She’s ninety-three years old, has a pacemaker in her heart, has internal bleeding, twelve broken bones and just lost her life-long mate. Never mind my needs, what does she have to live for? 

Looking up she continues. “I tried so hard to be a good mother, but I failed.” 

I want to tell her that her kids made their own choices, but I know she will resist it. I reach out to hold her frail shaking hand, and she continues. First she talks about Aunt Lota, an alcoholic who died of emphysema, liver failure and cancer. Next was Uncle Elmo, who suffered with lymphoma for five years before it killed him. She saves my father for last, her only remaining living child. She tells me he had been severely beaten and abused as a child. 

Waves of emotion wash over me as I listen to her painful reflections. For years I held anger and hurt over the abuses that occurred in my own childhood. With each breath I take, the grip of self-indulgence tugs on me. I know I must be here for her and allow her to express her anguish, yet I am hurting, too. Caught up in two worlds, I struggle to keep them from collapsing into a firestorm of self-pity. My struggle is deepened because of my desire to take away her suffering. I can’t bear to witness her agony, yet I’m helpless to alleviate it. I can’t take it away, and I can’t make it better, no matter how much I want to or how hard I try. 

If I try to convince her she did a good job in raising her children, she will just resist and invalidate it. If, on the other hand, I agree with her that she was a bad mother, it would be untrue. What am I to do? The moment I give up trying to convince her, the answer comes to me. 

“Grandma, do you know that only a good mother would think she hadn’t done enough for her kids? A bad mother wouldn’t think about it at all.” 

She lay silent for a few moments and then says softly, “I thought plenty about my kids. I worried about them day and night.” 

“You see, Granny, how much time you spent caring about them?” 

After a long pause she bursts into tears. “I did care deeply for all my kids and for all you grandkids too.”

 “Yes, you were wonderful with all of us and you know, your children made their own choices so let’s leave judgment to God.” 

“Yes. I will leave it to God,” she replies quietly. “But I still don’t understand why he hasn’t come for me yet,” she adds tenaciously. 

“Grandma, I’m sorry, I know how much you love God and want to be with him.” A wave of tears flood into her eyes,

 “I do love God with all my heart.” 

She closes her eyes and finally relaxes her body. Sorrow fill me as I know I must leave now. I reach over and kiss her on the cheek just as I always have at our good byes. Turning to walk away I cannot contain my sadness any longer. 

“I love you so much, Grandma!” “I love you too, my sweet grandson. 

God bless you my boy.” 

Grace Oldham died that night and in her passing, she led me into the dimension of knowing called Service. I learned that to be of service, I must be willing to set aside my own needs. I learned that when someone is upset or in pain, it’s unwise to try and make it better for them. Although difficult, I must allow them their pain and show them acceptance, love and support until they get through it themselves. My grandmother will live in my heart forever and when it’s time for me to meet my maker, my last breath will be filled with the remembrance of all the good things she stood for in my life. 

* * * 
The good news is you don’t have to witness the death of a loved one to experience the dimension of Service. If my story spoke to you, use your feelings to identify where this dimension was imprinted into your soul. Once open to the dimension, to help keep Service present in your daily life, engage with the three behaviors of Contribution, Patience and Love. Doing so will assist you in illuminating the wisdom and light contained within you. Let’s explore each behavior. 

Contribution is the act of giving or providing jointly with others. When we contribute to someone, we are sharing in the process of making something happen with them. The difference between contributing and simply doing something for someone is that contribution is a “with” act rather than a “for” act. In other words, it is a collaborative deed rather than a directive one. Also, contribution carries no obligation. If there is any sense of feeling obliged, it is probably not a contributory act but a conciliatory one. This is important in terms of developing behaviors consistent with being of service. If we allow ourselves to function from obligation for too long, resentment, apathy and resistance begin to manifest. The best way to break obligatory behavior, if it’s present, is to find a venue for contribution where your giving is not expected, but appreciated — but don’t feel obligated to take this advice or it won’t work. 

Patience is the ability to wait without complaining or losing self-control. In today’s fast-paced society, it is extremely difficult to be patient; however, without it, our stress level escalates, our sense of inner peace is shattered and our most valuable relationships often suffer. Patience isn’t just a virtue, it’s also a discipline. Patience requires a commitment to refusing to be provoked or angered through insult, perceived incompetence or lack of consideration. Developing steadfastness, diligence and perseverance is a worthy challenge. Those who possess these qualities command respect and are held in high regard. Patience doesn’t mean we never express our frustration or the struggles we experience in our interactions with others, but it does mean having enough self-awareness to monitor such feelings and at least give warning that turbulence is about to occur. Such consideration fosters responsibility and respect. It also gives us a moment to exercise the discipline of not abusing the person with whom we are trying to be patient. 

Love, from the Old English word, “lufu,” means “to be fond of and to have a deep and tender feeling of affection for.” There are as many definitions of love as there are people in the world. Within the context of service, however, love is the ability to accept someone exactly as they are with no changes in their behaviors, style, beliefs or attitudes. To love another is to recognize that he or she is a unique individual, and that there is a bond or connection that ties us to him or her, either through association or reflection. In other words, if the person is unlike us, we associate with characteristics we don’t have, traits that can give us another perspective, experience or realization about life. Rather than judge them negatively, by loving them we are able to see that, although we may not share the same set of behaviors and may not even agree with them, we accept them as aspects of a common humanity. If they are similar to us, then they are a reflection of familiarity and give us another perspective on ourselves. Either way, different or similar to us, other people in our lives represent an opportunity to extend compassion and understanding. 

Val Jon Farris is an international lecturer and award-winning author. His new spiritual adventure book, Inca Fire! Light of the Masters, (ISBN 1928621021) is available at all major bookstores or on his website at www.incafire.com . For events call 1(877) 462-2347.


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