God said:

Beloveds, you are detaching from your attachment to yourself in the way the world may have prophesied you. You are letting go. You have climbed a high mountain. Now you will slide down on the other side, which is another way to say you are rising higher. Yes, you can leave a sketch of yourself behind. Your soul is rising.

There was a portrait of yourself once painted, and now your True Soul is rising up out of the portrait like mist. Your soul and the self-portrait you made of yourself were never identical. You are greater than you can imagine. You are greater than the world can imagine. Guide yourself.

Your presumed self-portrait was done in bits and pieces, an add-on here, an add-on there, an attempt at being what the world bows down to. You wanted to be good. You wanted to be right in the eyes if the world, and so you may have disjointed yourself, for what? For the sake of approval from somewhere? For an attempt at being a touched-up photo of yourself, air-brushed, put up on a wall and left hanging there, a false ancestral portrait of you that you hoped revealed you in the best light. It may have been a fine portrait, only it may not have been of you.

The way you truly are is the best snapshot of you.

You may have forsaken yourself. You may have belied yourself. Who needs an artificial self? Where did this idea come from that a semblance of you outdoes the honest-to- goodness-you?

God said:

What would make where you live a Paradise on Earth? What would make the world a Paradise, this world that you read and hear such terrible things about, where wars have been fought and warriors are heroes?

You may say you don't believe in Paradise. You may not. At the same time, it is hard to believe that the world I created is not meant to be a Paradise. This, too, is hard to believe. It is especially hard to believe now when you do see before your eyes the lion and the lamb’s lying down together.

There can be peace. You have seen it.

How can it be that peace is hard to find among God's Created Human Beings when most people, by far, are Good Neighbors? What possible joy is there to find in dissent?

Deer and dogs lie down together. Cats and rats lie down together. An animal of one species contentedly lies down and nurses the babies of another species. What makes human beings so selective?

What is this about human beings against each other and creating friction? In My book, friction is fiction. It is drama set on fire. It is drama let out of a cauldron like a witches' brew. Infighting is always infighting. It can't be necessary. It would be better if antagonism and setting fires were never heard of.

It is peace that is meant to be natural in life. What sense does it make for a neighbor to be against another neighbor? This is not what is meant to be.

Sometimes war is even exalted. What kind of a happiness-maker can war be? War is not a happiness-maker. War is a widow-maker.

God said:

Life appears in instants like the shutter of a camera. Click, click. The light of life has the appearance of movement. Light seems to flicker. Because of light, the same hillside changes according to the cycle of the Sun.

According to the world, there are accurate measurements of a hillside that are made. Regardless of accurate measurements touted, life itself is not exactly like a hillside that you can survey. The angles you look from in life do not carry such precision. Life is more free-form.

As the Sun moves, so does life. You can peek; you can surmise; you can reflect, yet the surface of life does not stay still, not even for one moment. There are no still-life paintings in life. There is movement. Sunlight and shadows move. The stillness stays hidden. Candlelight shimmers. At its basis, life itself is stillness.

It has been said that no man can step into the same river twice. So is the world of Earth that you move and live in.

And, so, life on Earth is mobile whereas Truth is that which stays still. Truth is immobile. Truth is everlasting. Truth is Stillness captured, as it were.

There is no life without Love Beyond Measure. Love in the world jumps around. Love in the world too often appears like jello. It shimmies, and it shakes. It travels round and round.

God said:

At the same time as you yearn for more dreams to come to fruition and fill up your heart, don't waste your life by representing yourself as unfulfilled or denied. Rather, I say:

Hurray for unfilled dreams! Hurray for dreams that have not yet come true. Unfilled dreams are dreams on their way to you. Part of the joy of your journey is that you are getting somewhere. Fulfillment gives you joy. Allow that there may be as much joy or even greater joy in the climbing that propels you to the fulfillment of your dreams.

When you were a first grader, how you longed to become a big sixth grader. When you attained sixth grade, the dream of reaching sixth grade turned out to be shinier than the actual success.

You have many dreams fulfilled. Is it not also a good thing to have dreams you yearn for and have yet to reach? To be full of dreams, it's necessary to have some dreams waiting for you beyond the pale. Looking forward holds its own joys.

Would you really want supper right after you had lunch? Would you really really want all your dreams fulfilled instantly? You might get blasé. There is a thrill to the moment of success, yet then that moment is over.

Once in a while, it's a good thing to skip a meal and get really hungry, for abundance can turn into overabundance. You really do want unfulfilled desires ahead of you. Rejoice that you have that which you are searching for still ahead of you.

God said:

Dates are a form of time, and dates whiz by. How quickly dates accumulate. Dates are almost a mumbo-jumbo, no matter how orderly they may be seen.

As dates accumulate, they come to seem unreal. Once you were born on a certain date, and you became one year old. Now you may be fifty or sixty years old – or a hundred years old. The years that may have gone slowly, now fly by and seem like a flash in the pan. How unreal dates may seem now. Time ravaged the passage of your life. Where are the snows of yesteryear.

You may have a sense of having played cards with calendars of dates. Time seems so obtuse, a blip, some kind of fraction denoting what? Denoting something that now seems invisible and never was. All the joys, and all the sorrows – they no longer seem real. They never were but a sketch of wild imagination. Time was always fiction. It didn't exist. The Emperor's Clothes. It was mutually recognized with a wink as everyone gave homage to time, as if it were holy.

It is like a stew of your life was made of many ingredients. You recollect a few points, by no means, all. There is a sense that illusory time left you high and dry. Beloveds, time never was, yet time seemed to push you and pull you and spatter you to smithereens.

Your life lived itself as episodic and characterized this way or that. Some of your life you can't forget, and some of your life you can't remember. Your life may seem now like a faded picture book with pages missing. Everything was so important once. Now it all seems immaterial.