Category: J Douglas Bottorff

My Cup Overflows

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Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of my enemies; thou anointest my head with oil, my cup overflows.

This line from the 23rd Psalm is rich with the ideas of protection and prosperity. The preparation of the table in the presence of enemies is a way of affirming, Greater good is unfolding even when things appear to be working against me.

 This is an important understanding to affirm because it is absolutely true. When our life takes an unexpected turn for the worse, we often react in ways that rob us of our peace and our creative optimism. The psalmist provides a key that enables us to stay centered in the truth: This thing is not as it appears. A banquet of good is set before you. Know this and be at peace.

Oil is a symbol of prosperity, both materially and spiritually. The head is a symbol of wisdom, intelligence. The Bible describes Joseph, for example, as “a head above his brothers,” meaning, he was sharper. The image of God anointing your head with oil is a way of reminding you to open your mind to the infinite, divine possibilities both of a spiritual and material nature. In times of stress, we close our minds to all but the apparent problem, and it appears that our world is falling apart. God never ceases working, anointing you with everything you need to prosper through your challenges.

The image of the cup overflowing is the most obvious. See yourself overflowing with the light, life, and intelligence of God, touching everyone and everything that concerns you with peace, order, and an abundance of good. Our prosperity begins from within us and works its way out into our affairs. We literally overflow with divine energy. As we affirm and visualize this truth, we enhance its prospering activity in all that concerns us.   

Finding Peace in the Valley

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Part 4 of 6

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.

The phrase valley of the shadow of death is thought to refer to a time when shepherds would guide their flocks through narrow valleys. In these places, predators could hide among the shadows cast by rocks and trees, using the terrain to ambush the flock. This imagery conveys a sense of danger and vulnerability, emphasizing the risks present in life’s challenging passages.

Regardless of historical accuracy, the valley represents a place of danger. Metaphysically, valleys symbolize low moments in consciousness, in contrast to mountains, which are seen as moments of enlightenment and spiritual clarity. Everyone experiences these low points, and during such times, feelings of vulnerability can arise, with threats—both real and imagined—seeming to loom large and threaten what we hold dear.

During these challenging moments, it’s helpful to affirm, as the Psalmist did: I do not fear this negative appearance. God is my protector, my refuge, my guide. By standing firm in this affirmation, we cultivate the confidence that visible good is imminent, even when uncertainty and fear seem to move in the shadows. This approach encourages strength, steadfastness, and the courage to continue moving forward.

Shadows can be deceptive. Even the gentlest person can appear sinister if a flashlight is held to their chin, casting unusual shadows across their face. Merely shifting the light changes the shadows, causing their negative effect to disappear. This analogy suggests that much of what frightens us is fleeting, dependent on perspective, and can shift with even a minor change in how we view our circumstances.

Life consists of valleys and mountaintop experiences. It is important to remember that God is present in all states of being, whether in moments of challenge or moments of joy. The 23rd Psalm serves as a powerful reminder of this truth. Even a slight movement of thought toward God can refresh faith, reassure us of life’s goodness, and remind us that today’s fears are temporary. Peace is available, even in the valley of the shadow of death, and awaits our recognition.

The Right Path

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Part 3 of 6 

He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.

The Psalmist continues with the theme of spiritual guidance. The translators of the New Revised Standard Version of the Bible change the phrase, paths of righteousness, to right paths, a clarification that should prove helpful in our understanding of the idea contained in this line. In practice the path of righteousness is sometimes converted into an attitude of religious self-righteousness, one that is often condemning of those who hold beliefs that are not compatible with what we think is right. The simple thought that God is leading you in right paths is a powerful, affirmative attitude that allows you leave others to find the way that is most meaningful to them.

The word sake means for the good, the benefit or the welfare of somebody or something. In addition, Biblical names, particularly in the Old Testament, depicted a characteristic or the nature of a person or place. The phrase, for his name’s sake, can be thought of as meaning, for the benefit of his (God’s) nature. In other words, there is a right path for you, a way through which God seeks expression. In this line, you are affirming that God is leading you to your right path, one through which all the divine attributes of peace, health and the abundance of all good shines forth naturally.

In your times of quiet, let go of your grasping for answers. Looking outside of yourself and seeking the resolution to a problem is the cause of all tension of your mind, shortness of breath, and stress in your body. You are on the right path when you turn to God alone for guidance. You are complying with God’s nature that works from the center to the circumference of your being. You know you are on the right path when you feel the stress of groping for solutions begin to subside and the peace of trust in God rise from your center.

Affirm: God’s perfect peace is my right path and I choose this path now. Be still. The peace of stillness is your right path. 

Beside Still Waters

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Part 2 of 6

“He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters; he restores my soul.”

The imagery presented in these two lines of the 23rd Psalm is very calming, a wonderful visualization to begin a productive meditation time.

The Psalmist no doubt arrived at this potent visual as the result of his own experience with God. All who experience God come to know the calming, soul restoring influence of the inner light, the inner stillness, and they return to the realm of their affairs with a renewed assurance that all is well, all is in divine order.

Do you feel overwhelmed by some condition in your life? Are you in a frantic struggle to resolve it? Is there some care quietly gnawing away of your peace, perhaps interrupting your sleep, or creating a distraction in your creative, more productive endeavors? Imagine yourself resting in green pastures, sitting calm and serene beside beautiful waters, feeling the restoring presence of Spirit in you imparting new strength, new inspiration, and new enthusiasm from which to meet your day.

The psalmist wrote of an experience that is not only available to us all, it is our most natural state of being. A dedicated effort to return often to this inner center of quiet will cause you to realize throughout your day, that nothing can disturb the calm peace of my soul.

When the temptation to fall into a frantic mode arises, remember the green pastures, the still waters of God’s presence that restore your soul. Move into that calming, healing place, and let new light and energy lift you up to a greater sense of calm, of unwavering confidence in the greater good now unfolding through you.

The Lord is My Shepherd

The Lord is My Shepherd

23rd Psalm: Part 1 of 6 

The lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…

The 23rd Psalm has served as a source of comfort to millions over the years. It is a profound series of affirmations that, in challenging times, reminds us that there is a higher Presence working in and through us, and that we can trust this Presence to guide us to the right thing.

The Psalmist does not say, The lord wants to be my shepherd, and if I will love and promise to obey Him, He will take care of my wants. He says, “The lord is my shepherd…” He is stating a changeless relationship that we often forget, especially in our trying moments.

A shepherd is a caretaker, a protector, one that guides his or her flock to the best and least dangerous grazing spots. Isn’t this a wonderful image to hold of our relationship to God? Right now, you and I are being guided into the best and highest, the most bountiful place in life, the richest environment in which to learn and grow.

Pause for a moment to remember this. Allow yourself to let go and trust that you are in the right place at the right time, that unseen good is now unfolding through your experience. Get the feeling that you are being guided, that your unfulfilled longing is being satisfied in every way.

Affirm often: The lord is my shepherd, I shall not want, then listen for the quiet, gentle guidance that is calling you to trust, that is leading you to a deep, inner satisfaction. Know beyond all doubt that you are being lovingly guided through uncertain times, and through territory that may be unknown to you. Nothing is unknown to the lord of your being, to God, your unfailing source and protector. 

Have We Lived Before?

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I’ve met many people in Unity who believe in past lives. While I don’t remember any of my own, it feels spiritually plausible that we’ve all lived before. If you accept that the soul continues after death, then the idea of pre-existence isn’t a huge stretch. I won’t try to prove whether we’ve lived before, but rather, simply consider the possibility.

The late Dr. Ian Stevenson, a leading researcher on children who recall past lives, shared the story of Maria, from Brazil, whose father drove away her young lover, leading him to suicide. Distraught, Maria lost her will to live, intentionally exposing herself to the cold and dying from tuberculosis. Before her death, she told her friend, Ida, that she would return as her daughter. Months later, Ida gave birth to a girl, Marta, whom she and her teacher husband raised. As Marta began to talk, she recounted numerous details from her previous life, which her father documented and verified.

The credibility of this case is what initially interested Dr. Stevenson. Stevenson, and now Dr. Jim Tucker, have documented thousands of similar cases, making it hard for even skeptics to dismiss reincarnation entirely. In Maria’s case, what fascinates me is that she chose to return as her friend’s daughter, purely out of her own desire.

I suspect this applies to all of us: we’re here because we chose to be. I also believe we don’t fully know what our lives will hold. We set our canoe in the river, unaware of the rapids or calm waters ahead.

Consider the many phases of your own life that have begun and ended. You were “born” into that role and “died” to it. It’s now just a memory, a past phase, a past life. Yet, you remain you. You launched your canoe at one point in the river and landed at another. How many times does this happen in a single lifetime? Often. It seems like a microcosm of the larger picture.

I have no wish to revisit any former period of this life, nor do I feel compelled to explore past lives. What truly inspires me is the power of choice, the knowledge that I’m not driven by a need to be anything other than who I am. It’s all mine to shape as I desire.

New Beginnings

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Life unfolds in cycles. If you observe these cycles closely, you will notice there are times when things seem to be falling apart and other times when they are falling into place. We are often confronted with the familiar question: Is the cup half full, or is it half empty?

This question points to an important truth. The answer is not determined by the condition of the cup, but by how you are feeling at the moment you are viewing it. If you are optimistic and full of expectation, the cup appears half full. If you are feeling weak, vulnerable, or worn down by circumstances, the same cup will appear half empty.

Many spiritual teachers have embraced a simple principle: life is consciousness. The condition of the cup does not need to determine how you feel. When you determine how you feel, the condition of the cup often takes care of itself.

Have you noticed how, during a low moment, a single encouraging word—a phrase from a book or a line from scripture—can suddenly inspire a new way of seeing? A cup that looked half empty moments before now appears half full… and filling. Do not be discouraged during emotionally low moments. Refuse to set your course by these brief seasons of diminished vision.

Always remember that in the twinkling of an eye everything can change, simply because you allow yourself to change the way you see.

Each new moment holds the potential for a new beginning. It does not matter how negative you may have felt just moments ago—you can begin again now. Set a new energy in motion. Create a positive, encouraging affirmation and begin speaking it with joy and expectation, for these emotions lay the groundwork for transformation.

Refuse to see yourself as a victim of circumstance or personality. And when you slip back into a half-empty way of thinking, remember that life is dynamic. There is always reason to hold even the smallest glimmer of hope, affirming that the good you desire is already coming forth.

As we stand at the threshold of a new year, choose to see it not merely as half full, but as brimming with possibilities—many of them still unimagined.

Your Christmas Story

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Unity teaches that the Christ is the essence of God individualized in each of us. Yet most of us have accepted ideas of lack, limitation, and separation as the basis of our identity. Over time, these ideas take form—not only in our thinking, but in our bodies, our relationships, and our circumstances. The spiritual journey, then, is not about becoming something new, but about remembering what we already are.

The Christmas story describes this recovery of awareness through symbol and soul-language.

Mary represents spiritual receptivity—the intuitive dimension of consciousness that is open to the movement of Spirit. She is the part of us that knows life is more than survival and circumstance. Mary is the higher Self that listens inwardly and trusts what it hears. Without this receptive awareness, no spiritual birth is possible.

Joseph represents the intellect, but not as ruler. In the awakening soul, the intellect undergoes a quiet conversion. Once dominant, it becomes attentive. Once authoritative, it becomes discerning. Joseph learns to observe rather than control, to protect what is emerging without attempting to define it prematurely. He stands watch over truths that arise not from reasoning, but from the deeper regions of the soul.

The shepherds symbolize our capacity to watch over our thoughts and feelings. As they keep vigil by night, we are invited into conscious awareness—learning to notice what occupies our inner field. In moments of quiet prayer or reflection, we release what is unproductive and refocus our spiritual energy on what nurtures life, wholeness, and peace.

The wise ones from the East represent the soul’s innate wisdom. Just as the oak unfolds from the acorn, so the soul unfolds according to an intelligence greater than fear. When we commit to growth, the wisdom we need is revealed step by step. The gift is not given all at once—but always on time. This is your Christmas story. The Christ is not born once in Bethlehem, but continually within the receptive, attentive, and trusting human heart.

The Mystery of Mary

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Among the many symbols woven through the Gospel narratives, few are as profound—and as misunderstood—as Mary. In the mystical tradition, Mary represents far more than a historical figure. She is the soul itself: receptive, expectant, open to the divine without the intervention of the intellect. Her story is the story of every awakening consciousness.

Joseph, in this symbolism, is the intellect—capable, orderly, and essential in its place, yet ultimately limited in its ability to perceive the movements of Spirit. Mary conceives without Joseph because the deepest spiritual realizations do not arise from analysis or reason. They emerge from silence, from the inner chamber where the soul listens without effort and receives without strain.

This is the mystery of the virgin birth: a consciousness that becomes still enough, uncluttered enough, to let the divine seed take root. It is not about intense study. This birth is the transformation that begins when the mind stops trying to think its way into God and instead becomes receptive to an inner knowing already present.

Every spiritual journey begins with a moment like Mary’s: an inward stirring, an unexpected clarity, a quiet “yes” that arises before we can explain or justify it. The intellect may protest—Joseph “was troubled” for good reason—but the soul knows. It senses the movement of something holy within, something that cannot be managed or controlled.

Mary’s response is the model of all mystics: “Let it be unto me according to thy word.” She does not demand understanding; she offers availability. She becomes the willing vessel in which Spirit can express itself freely.

When we enter silence—true silence—we step into this same receptive posture. Thoughts settle, expectations soften, and something deeper begins to speak. Not in sentences, but in assurance. Not in arguments, but in the sense of something greater at work.

Awareness of the soul, the biblical Christ, is born in us the same way: not by intellectual effort, but by intuitive-readiness. Not by striving, but by surrender. The mystery of Mary is the reminder that the divine does not depend on our reasoning to take form. It depends on our willingness to be still, to open, to receive.

And in that receptive moment, something luminous awakens—quietly, naturally, inevitably—within the depths of the soul.

The Inner Alignment of Power and Intelligence

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Jesus’ teaching on faith that “moves mountains” is not a call to defy nature but an invitation to return to our inner center—the quiet place where divine power becomes strength and divine intelligence becomes light. True strength is not personal will but alignment with the Source from which all possibility arises. This week, the teaching on Power and Intelligence takes us deeper into that alignment, showing how the light of divine guidance directs the very power that sustains us.

When Jesus urges us to “believe and not doubt in the heart,” he is describing a shift in focus. The mountain symbolizes the problem that appears immovable. Faith is not pretending the mountain isn’t there; it is remembering that we are not defined by it.

The Genesis writer captured this inner movement with the first creative command: “Let there be light.” This was not physical light but the illumination of divine intelligence—the radiant clarity that brings order to chaos. Power provides the energy, and intelligence gives it direction. Together, they form the spiritual architecture of every breakthrough, every healing, every step toward wholeness.

Like King Jehoshaphat, we all know what it is to feel overwhelmed. His prayer—“We do not know what to do, but our eyes are upon Thee”—is the perfect union of these two qualities. He releases reliance on personal strength and opens to the larger field of divine guidance (intelligence). The battle shifts from the outer to the inner field. The moment fear dissolves, clarity arises.

When we affirm “Let there be light,” we are not asking for something new to descend from the heavens; we are awakening what is already present in the soul. Divine intelligence is omnipresent, waiting for recognition. Power is ever-flowing, waiting for direction. When the two meet, mountains move—not by force, but by realization.

In quiet prayer, let your focus return to your center. Breathe in power; breathe out strength. Then affirm the light of intelligence is making your next step clear. This is the mystic’s path: strength without struggle, clarity without strain, and guidance arising from the indwelling Presence that never fails.