By Gonny 
Everything looks soft, quiet, innocent.
And that’s usually when you fall flat on your back.
Perfect timing for a few words about ‘pitfalls’, metaphorical ones, of course.
Small ones, big ones, old familiar ones with a beard and a nameplate, and shiny new ones that look very spiritual.
We could say life is full of pitfalls, but A Course in Miracles would correct
us and say: “The mind is full of them.”
Just as part of learning to notice where we still believe we can trip.
. . . .
Some pitfalls are tiny. Hardly visible.
A thought like: “I’m just a little bit annoyed, but I’m spiritually advanced enough to ignore it.”
ACIM smiles and says something along the lines of:
Nothing real can be threatened. Nothing unreal exists.
Annoyance is unreal, but believing it’s mine is the pitfall. Very sneaky.
You don’t fall into a hole. You slightly twist your ankle and walk on, limping, calling it wisdom.
Other pitfalls are huge. You see them coming. You even put a little
sign next to them saying: “Careful. Ego ahead.”
And still……..splash!!!
These are the moments when we are absolutely convinced we are right.
Morally right. Spiritually right. Educationally right. Facebook-comment right.
The Course is very clear here (almost annoyingly so):
The ego is always certain. Certainty feels solid. Truth feels light.
Guess which one has the pitfall underneath….?
. . .
Then there are the old pits.
You’ve fallen into them before, you know them well, you could write a
tourist guide about them.
Abandonment…not being seen…being misunderstood…trying harder.
ACIM doesn’t shame us for returning there, it simply reminds us:
You are never upset for the reason you think.
The pit isn’t the situation, it’s the ancient belief that this moment can take something away from you.
Spoiler: it can’t.
. . . .
And of course, there are new, very clever pitfalls.
They wear spiritual clothing and use beautiful words.
They quote the Course… selectively.
Thoughts like:
“I should be beyond this by now.”
“A true student wouldn’t feel this.”
“This discomfort means I’m doing something wrong.”
ACIM gently laughs and says:
You do not need to learn through pain.
Pain is not proof of depth. Falling is not progress.
Awareness is.
. . . . .
Some pitfalls are so obvious they’re almost cute.
Drama. Victimhood. Specialness dressed as sensitivity.
We step in, sink a little, and then look around to see who noticed.
The Course brings us back with a simple reminder:
I am not a body. I am free.
Bodies fall. Images stumble. The mind that remembers truth does
neither.
. . . .
Here’s the thing. Pitfalls are not enemies or mistakes. They are feedback.
They show us where we still believe the snow is solid because it looks beautiful.
Every pit says the same thing, in a different accent:
“You thought this was outside you.”
And every time we notice…really notice…without judgment, without self-attack, something shifts.
Not the world, but the one who thought he could fall.
So yes, it’s snowing.
Walk gently. Laugh when you slip.
And remember: the ground of Truth has no holes at all.
Only the dream does. And even there, you’re learning to fly. 
With love and light,
G.