The final image that Source ran through the apparatus of my mind as I laid down the book review was of myself, a decade earlier, walking through a garden. It was the lovely garden of the house I lived in when I was just as much an atheist, a non-seer, a non-believer, as Professor Dawkins. There are no coincidences in the world of Spirit. The fact that I was then an academic, taking a break from working on my dissertation by conversing with a colleague on my cordless phone about the meaninglessness of modern life, is part of Its teaching. Imagine an oversized red flower blooming instantaneously before your eyes… but even that image is flat compared to what really occurred that day in the garden. What actually happened is the garden came alive. What actually happened is a vague but persistent craving for meaning slashed my reality into pieces and opened up a brand new world. In an instant that I could have neither planned nor engineered with all my academic training, a veil was removed. In an instant beyond description, beyond the grasp of memory, I was moved from atheist to the path of Spirit. In one split second, I knew there was a God.
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Can I judge the professor for not having received some transformative moment of grace before writing his book that
would have allowed him to see the God I know? Of course not. Dawkins’ book, as is, is part of the Grand Scheme, as is this article, inspired
by his book. Can I allow myself to not understand his position? Only if I’m a liar. I was there, just like him. Can I fault him for not
perceiving Spirit? No more than I can fault myself for not being able to fully conjure back up the magic of that moment in the garden. And
in choosing not to focus on differences, but to admit my connectedness with Professor Dawkins, I received the fruit from Mother/Father/God:
a relaxing sense of freedom from having to uphold a wall of judgment in my psyche.