By Gonny 
There are moments when I feel completely lost…not in peace, but in helplessness.
When ACIM says, “You can love only as God loves,” something deep inside me whispers, “But I can’t.”
There are people whose actions seem to embody pure cruelty.
Those who lie without blinking, who exploit, who enjoy control, who abuse children and feel no remorse.
Each time I see on TV or read about such things, something in me recoils.
I know that Love exists….yet in those moments, I cannot feel It.
And I’ve come to realize, that too is part of me being human.
The ego hates….that’s what it does.
It thrives on separation, and when I believe its voice, I begin to feel that hatred as if it were mine.
I used to feel guilty about that. Now I try to bring even that guilt to the Holy Spirit.
Sometimes I simply say:
“Holy Spirit, I hate this person, this image.
But I no longer want to defend this hatred. Please, show me what You see.”
And then I wait.
Not expecting fireworks or holy visions, but maybe a slight softening, somewhere deep inside.
Often it’s very subtle…a small breath where before there was tightness.
A pause in which I realize: I don’t have to carry this alone.
I’ve noticed that the Holy Spirit doesn’t ask me to pretend.
He doesn’t say, “Love the evil.”
He just reminds me gently that what I see as evil is always fear.
And what I call a monster… is a child who has forgotten who he is.
That thought doesn’t make me like them, or want to go near them.
But it does something else: it frees me.
Because in that moment, I’m no longer adding my hatred to the world’s.
When that happens, even for a second, I feel something shift.
It’s small, almost invisible, but it’s there…like a quiet exhale of the soul.
And in that instant, I remember: they too are lost in a dream of fear.
That single second is enough to change everything.
Not the world, but the way I see it.
And that’s where I feel the healing begins.
I still can’t say I love those who cause pain.
But I can see that my perception of “monsters” was built by fear…my own fear of separation.
And when I hand that fear to the Light, something opens.
I say silently:
“Here, take it. I don’t want to keep this anymore.”
And in that surrender, Love returns.
Not as emotion, not as sentiment, but as awareness, a quiet certainty that never really left.
It whispers, “Nothing real can be threatened. Nothing unreal exists.”
Love doesn’t ask me to like anyone.
It only invites me to stop excluding.
Because the moment I exclude anyone, I lose my own peace.
So I don’t pray to feel love for those I cannot yet love.
I only pray to remember that the Love of God never left me and never left them either.
And sometimes, that remembrance is all I can manage.
But it’s enough…for this moment.
With love and light,
G.