Welcome To
Bill Achor's Writings
Bill Achor's Writings
Issue # 3, 1982 December
Created in unified collaboration of William E. Achor, Philip Thomas, and Roberta Ann Wilson
and Our Heavenly Father !
October 12th, 2012
and Our Heavenly Father !
October 12th, 2012
To email the web master click on the dove, thank you!
-- William E. Achor
Minister
Science of Spirituality --
Minister
Science of Spirituality --
Hello, dear friend:
Summer is gone and now it is Christmas season again. This is a time for enhanced attunement with God, with the physical world and with the world of our thoughts; through the Christ Presence that dwells within the being of each of us. The message that is a part of this Christmas mailing is a beautiful example of the humbleness and harmony that such attunement may realize. This "story" is reproduced from a newsletter issued by the Tampa Bay Area Counsel of the A. R. T. Inc.
Many challenges, changes, and new awarenesses have transpired since my last message to you. It will take a while to catch up, and I shall work at that now... And in the coming new year. A new year: which holds, for me, a sense of excitement, of anticipation, and of a feeling for tremendous growth and increasing harmonies. I'm ready for that!
There have been no recent letters from me for two basic reasons: first; all contributions have gone toward the expenses of keeping this S.O.S. house available and operating for the benefit of all those who are led to this channel for spiritual understanding and healing. The income was not quite sufficient even for these immediate expenses, so these have necessarily taken priority over the costs of any printing and mailing. I am really sorry that I've been out of touch for so long. Although there has been a large growth in the local S.O.S. Activities; I have missed these personal contacts with you.
The second reason for my lack of communication was the confusions in me; particularly pertaining to the inharmonies that I have felt increasingly in my relationships with Hazel. I had permitted these inharmonies to grow in me over a period of 3 of 4 years and they have now come to conclusion during these past several months. Out of this has come a lot of tests, and the new awarenesses; along with the opportunities for spiritual growth for both Hazel and me. I have elected a separation of our paths. The Divine Hand of Spirit, the Christ Presence, has been apparent even in and through the separating. I am truly thankful for that; for Hazel's sake, from my own, for S.O. S., And for the sake of all persons concerned. I plan to speak more of these things in future mailings.
Infinite Spirit provided a perfect place for Hazel with perfect timing. She is now a resident House Mother in a freshmen girls dormitory at Florida Southern College. Her address is: Mrs. Hazel Achor, Florida Southern College, P.O. Box 4838, Lakeland, FL space space 33802.
I ask for your prayers, for each of us. We have made mistakes in our processes of growing and are both still vulnerable to errors at this time in our continuing opportunities and challenges toward realizing our unique individual expressions of unconditional loving acceptance.
Unconditional loving acceptance, to me, is the ultimate expression we are to achieve in our human experiences. To me; that is the final total unity with the Christ Being; with God Presence. I do not, and have not, claimed that achievement, nor do I know anyone who has; other than Jesus. There is still tendencies most of us, me included, to try to coerce things to be the way we would have them be; and to charge or condemn according to human appearances, human concepts, of right and wrong. But we should not be discouraged. We shall, eventually, each of us, achieve Unity in God; that is the preordained destiny for each of us. We will, then, in our Unity, experience only the harmony of all being... since all being is a part of God Being..there is nothing outside of God... including you...and me...for God is all that is.
I love you and bless you.
William E. Achor
William E. Achor
Summer is gone and now it is Christmas season again. This is a time for enhanced attunement with God, with the physical world and with the world of our thoughts; through the Christ Presence that dwells within the being of each of us. The message that is a part of this Christmas mailing is a beautiful example of the humbleness and harmony that such attunement may realize. This "story" is reproduced from a newsletter issued by the Tampa Bay Area Counsel of the A. R. T. Inc.
Many challenges, changes, and new awarenesses have transpired since my last message to you. It will take a while to catch up, and I shall work at that now... And in the coming new year. A new year: which holds, for me, a sense of excitement, of anticipation, and of a feeling for tremendous growth and increasing harmonies. I'm ready for that!
There have been no recent letters from me for two basic reasons: first; all contributions have gone toward the expenses of keeping this S.O.S. house available and operating for the benefit of all those who are led to this channel for spiritual understanding and healing. The income was not quite sufficient even for these immediate expenses, so these have necessarily taken priority over the costs of any printing and mailing. I am really sorry that I've been out of touch for so long. Although there has been a large growth in the local S.O.S. Activities; I have missed these personal contacts with you.
The second reason for my lack of communication was the confusions in me; particularly pertaining to the inharmonies that I have felt increasingly in my relationships with Hazel. I had permitted these inharmonies to grow in me over a period of 3 of 4 years and they have now come to conclusion during these past several months. Out of this has come a lot of tests, and the new awarenesses; along with the opportunities for spiritual growth for both Hazel and me. I have elected a separation of our paths. The Divine Hand of Spirit, the Christ Presence, has been apparent even in and through the separating. I am truly thankful for that; for Hazel's sake, from my own, for S.O. S., And for the sake of all persons concerned. I plan to speak more of these things in future mailings.
Infinite Spirit provided a perfect place for Hazel with perfect timing. She is now a resident House Mother in a freshmen girls dormitory at Florida Southern College. Her address is: Mrs. Hazel Achor, Florida Southern College, P.O. Box 4838, Lakeland, FL space space 33802.
I ask for your prayers, for each of us. We have made mistakes in our processes of growing and are both still vulnerable to errors at this time in our continuing opportunities and challenges toward realizing our unique individual expressions of unconditional loving acceptance.
Unconditional loving acceptance, to me, is the ultimate expression we are to achieve in our human experiences. To me; that is the final total unity with the Christ Being; with God Presence. I do not, and have not, claimed that achievement, nor do I know anyone who has; other than Jesus. There is still tendencies most of us, me included, to try to coerce things to be the way we would have them be; and to charge or condemn according to human appearances, human concepts, of right and wrong. But we should not be discouraged. We shall, eventually, each of us, achieve Unity in God; that is the preordained destiny for each of us. We will, then, in our Unity, experience only the harmony of all being... since all being is a part of God Being..there is nothing outside of God... including you...and me...for God is all that is.
I love you and bless you.
William E. Achor
William E. Achor
THE UNFORGETTABLES
Of all the meals I've ever had, like hacks. And then, as if brought
one stands out far above the rest because to life by a Gabriel's on, men with
it contained all the essential talcum-covered faces shambled toward
ingredients for fullest enjoyment: the fire.
anticipation, hunger, aroma, taste,
friendship and satisfaction. Most A much- used frying pan appeared
of all, I think it was the manner from somewhere as well as mysterious
in which it was offered that added looking packages wrapped in odd bits
the condiments perpetuating its off paper. One man began peeling pre-
memory. boiled potatoes... another sliced Fat-
back...another formed cakes of batter.
It was a hot summer's day and Ahhh! the smells that rose as each
my stomach and pockets were completely of these things hit the hot frying pan!
empty. This was my first week on
a new job and I hated the lunch hour Just as I couldn't stand it any
most of all. This was when others more, one of the men beckoned to me.
opened bulging lunch pails. They "We fixed enough for you, too," he
even talked while they ate, instead said, pulling a tin plate from a
of savoring each bite! stack. He then handed me a fork.
Both items were spotlessly clean.
To avoid watching them, I took
a walk up into the company's brickyard. I Sat and ate and ate. There
There, ragged, gaunt-faced amid the heat and debris, the dirt
men sat - hour after hour, knocking and the dust, I ate - and never
mortar off of old bricks. These before or since has anything smelled
they piled one at the time, as they as tasted as good to me!
did the minutes of their colorless
lives into red mountains called hacks. When finished, I thanked them.
I started to say that I'd repay them
Bend, picked up chip, chip, chip when payday came. One held up his
- then place the cleaned brick on hand before I could speak.
the slowly growing hack then bend
and repeat this monotonous performance. "Your're very welcome." His
Only at lunch time did they voice was warmly soft and sincere.
stop. Then began a ritual I'd never "you said you'd fix enough for me,"
seen before. I watched from a slight I blurted out. "How did you know?"
distance.
He smiled a faraway smile. "We
In a small, cleared area, bricks who have lived so long with Hunger
had been palled up to resemble a bar- have learned to recognize him from
beque pit. Old pieces of renforcing a great distance."
rod formed the grill. A fire begun
an hour or so ago had burned out and I never forgot the lesson of
only its hot coals remained. charity given me by this man... this
great man...this brick cleaner.
There was no shade anywhere -
just acres of sun- heated brick, foot- Martin Buxbaum
deep mortar dust and the tombstone- The Underside of Heaven
one stands out far above the rest because to life by a Gabriel's on, men with
it contained all the essential talcum-covered faces shambled toward
ingredients for fullest enjoyment: the fire.
anticipation, hunger, aroma, taste,
friendship and satisfaction. Most A much- used frying pan appeared
of all, I think it was the manner from somewhere as well as mysterious
in which it was offered that added looking packages wrapped in odd bits
the condiments perpetuating its off paper. One man began peeling pre-
memory. boiled potatoes... another sliced Fat-
back...another formed cakes of batter.
It was a hot summer's day and Ahhh! the smells that rose as each
my stomach and pockets were completely of these things hit the hot frying pan!
empty. This was my first week on
a new job and I hated the lunch hour Just as I couldn't stand it any
most of all. This was when others more, one of the men beckoned to me.
opened bulging lunch pails. They "We fixed enough for you, too," he
even talked while they ate, instead said, pulling a tin plate from a
of savoring each bite! stack. He then handed me a fork.
Both items were spotlessly clean.
To avoid watching them, I took
a walk up into the company's brickyard. I Sat and ate and ate. There
There, ragged, gaunt-faced amid the heat and debris, the dirt
men sat - hour after hour, knocking and the dust, I ate - and never
mortar off of old bricks. These before or since has anything smelled
they piled one at the time, as they as tasted as good to me!
did the minutes of their colorless
lives into red mountains called hacks. When finished, I thanked them.
I started to say that I'd repay them
Bend, picked up chip, chip, chip when payday came. One held up his
- then place the cleaned brick on hand before I could speak.
the slowly growing hack then bend
and repeat this monotonous performance. "Your're very welcome." His
Only at lunch time did they voice was warmly soft and sincere.
stop. Then began a ritual I'd never "you said you'd fix enough for me,"
seen before. I watched from a slight I blurted out. "How did you know?"
distance.
He smiled a faraway smile. "We
In a small, cleared area, bricks who have lived so long with Hunger
had been palled up to resemble a bar- have learned to recognize him from
beque pit. Old pieces of renforcing a great distance."
rod formed the grill. A fire begun
an hour or so ago had burned out and I never forgot the lesson of
only its hot coals remained. charity given me by this man... this
great man...this brick cleaner.
There was no shade anywhere -
just acres of sun- heated brick, foot- Martin Buxbaum
deep mortar dust and the tombstone- The Underside of Heaven
