The Princess Grows Up

Arthur Godfrey

Through elementary school, colds became sinus-then-lung infections that kept me out of school for weeks. In my pink-plaid bedroom I sat against pillows, a princess taking penicillin in applesauce, having my meals in bed, and listening to radio’s Arthur Godfrey strumming, In the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia on his ukulele.

Measles (including German), mumps, and chicken pox were miserable; still I was getting attention that suspiciously appeared as wanting attention. Eight years later, (unlike my friends) I’d still stay in the university infirmary (more attention) rather than go to my dorm room.

Then, later, much later, a change began. At forty-six I was sitting opposite a woman massage therapist I’d just met, watching and listening as she pounded hard on my thighs, repeating to me over and over to get back in my body. She asked if I knew I was obsessive. I said, “Yes,” (remembering my mother once telling me I cried too much). This new woman recommended I go to A Course in Miracles in the same building, where the next week, I began learning a new view of spiritual love that reached down to the root of my hidden feelings of being unworthy and unloved—not by my family but by me.

In 2006, living in private housing at Meherabad, I gradually became very sick and, thinking I could take care of myself, I didn't go to the medical room until (having no phone) I had to get a message through to the doctor to come to my home. She gently scolded me for not coming to her office and not having a phone, but for me I'd proven that I could take care of myself, up to a certain point—when medical intervention was necessary.

My realization is, "For some, our destiny (karma) takes us on a long and circuitous journey before we discover who we truly are and that we have always been loved by God just as we are."