I See Only Your Perfection: Turning Away from Ego

By John Joseph Creek

Turning Away from Ego, the first book in the I See Only Your Perfection series, relates visions and experiences of my early spiritual search in which I was gently guided away from self-destructive patterns of thought and behavior. This process, which began with my study of A Course in Miracles and other spiritual texts, led to surprising spiritual answers to everyday problems related to health, finances, career choices and relationships. More importantly, it deepened my awareness of the Loving Presence that is with us always.
John Joseph Creek

I See Only Your Perfection is a miraclea collection of simple, everyday experiences that shows us how to apply the wisdom of A Course in Miracles to our own lives in a profound yet practical way. John Joseph Creek is a master storyteller who has truly discovered how to know peace. And this is his gift to us.
~Jennifer Read Hawthorne, co-author, #1 New York Times bestsellers Chicken Soup for the Womans Soul and Chicken Soup for the Mothers Soul

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Dec 13, 2012
• ISBN: 9781452560793

John Joseph Creek

John Joseph Creek lives in Atlanta, Georgia and has had general interest in spirituality and a specific interest in “A Course in Miracles” for over 15 years.

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Copyright © 2014 John Joseph Creek

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ISBN: 978-1-4525-6078-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4525-6079-3 (e)

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The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

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Balboa Press rev. date: 01/31/2014

Contents

For my father

Introduction

Seasons of Disaster

The Attraction of Guilt

One with the Universe in Sedona

Death of a Friendship

The Transition

Focus on Vision

The Thought Too Terrible to Think

The Gift of the Pink Pig

The Night of the Take-Your-Cat-And-Get-Out Fight

The Vision of the Warrior and the Little Girl

The Gift of Conflict

Man in the Mirror

Learning to Enjoy the Ride

The Story of Paulson

The Angel, the Monkey, and the Banana

Dancing with the Money Tree

Focus on the Future

Channeling Ebenezer Scrooge

Enjoying the Ride

Anemia

Healing With the Mind

The Two Voices and the Housing Market

The Hounds of Hell

The Dream of the Old Woman and the Two Old Books

Breath of Life

The Gift That Keeps On Giving

A Boy, A Knife, and A Tigger

Return on Investment

The Losing Lottery Ticket

The Holy Spirit’s Employment Agency

A Cure and a Healing

Everlasting Beauty

Fun with Miracles

More Seasons of Disaster

Redemption and the Spring of 1930—Revisited

Baptized by an Angel

For My Mother

Appreciations

Endnotes

FOR MY FATHER

MY FATHER SAT ALONE IN the bedroom with the open shipping crate at his feet. It was a beautiful fall day; the pine straw was just beginning to collect on the ground. This bedroom was part of a recent addition to the house and had just been completed a few years earlier. With its large windows overlooking the surrounding woods, this room was his favorite. It was his refuge.

He looked down at the item in the crate and picked it up lovingly. It was a Landolfi, a viola made in Italy in the mid-eighteenth century. It had been his prized possession for many years, and he had always been very protective of it. Early on, he had taught his young son and two daughters that children and Landolfis don’t mix. It was not intended to be a harsh lesson, but they had to be made to understand. The viola was his livelihood: the family’s well-being depended on it, and he could take no risks with it getting damaged.

He raised the instrument to his chin. Just for a minute, he was back on stage and could feel the adrenaline flowing through his veins. There was the curtain rising, the lights, and the applause of the crowd, as he sat with the other members of his quartet. The applause died slowly, and then with a nod from the first violinist, the love began to flow.

After a moment, his awareness returned to the present. He had never imagined selling the viola, at least not for many more years, but his family would need the money, and his wife wouldn’t know whom to contact to get a fair price. It was time to let it go.

His fingers tightened around the Landolfi. A thought flashed through his mind. He would fight this; he would find a way to beat the tumor, at least for a while. Oh, what he wouldn’t give for one more trip.

It had always been his greatest joy to take his family on vacation and show them the country. He smiled as he remembered that somehow or another, they had managed to pack five people and accompanying luggage into one station wagon. That family time had always been the best of his life, even better than all of the times on stage. They were all together and were free to explore the countryside for a while. One more trip, that’s all he asked.

But as he caught his reflection in the mirror, the hopelessness returned. He had aged decades in the past month, and his head was still bald from the treatments. No, it was over. No need to give the family any false hope. They had enough to deal with as it was.

He hoped they would think of him from time to time. He had worked so hard to give them a good life—not an easy task on a musician’s salary. Much of his time had been spent on the road with the quartet. Each trip out meant a few more dollars. As much as he wanted more time with his family, there were so many things he wanted to provide for them. He had always done the best for them that he could.

He had only one regret—and it was clear only in retrospect. He had pushed his children too hard, and he knew it. Somehow his beautiful desires for them were lost in the translations. I love you, I believe in you, I want the best for you became I’m worried about you; it can be a difficult world out there and finally digressed into You’re not trying hard enough; you’re not getting it right. He had never meant to be critical, but with the stress of his life and his concern for his children, somehow it had all come out wrong. He hoped they would forgive him someday.

For some reason, he wasn’t afraid of death. Losing the ability to speak was difficult. He had always been a quiet man, but there was so much he had wanted to say before it was too late. Ironically, the tumor in his brain had attacked the speech centers early on and had left him unable to say anything at all.

For a moment, he held the Landolfi as gently as he had held his children after they were born, then laid it back into the case and placed the case in the shipping box. He glanced out the window at the pine trees. No other regrets really, just things he wished he could say. It was almost time. He hoped his family would be okay, for there was nothing more he could do for them now. It