God said:

My children can always find something to worry about, yet worry doesn’t have to be a way of life. Forego worry. You don’t have to have it, one worry on top of another. This is not the way to live life.

Life in the world itself has tension in that there is an unevenness that you surmount, sort of the pull of goodness and mercy on one side, and friction on the other.

When you knit a sweater, both needles have a balance of tension. Tension is not meant to be lop-sided. The form of tension that you call worry is uneven tension. Sometimes worry even feels like panic. Fraught with worry, your tension is really askew.

Will you kindly remember that life offers much more than one of two choices? Please remember that tension is a decision you make, a path you choose, a rocky road with pitfalls that you practice on. You rehearse unimagined pitfalls. That’s just it. You do imagine fretful possibilities, and you have good imagination. Beforehand is always imagination.

Worry is not a comfortable state to be in. It is worry itself that is fraught with danger. When you go to a state fair, you have a choice of riding the merry-go-round or the roller coaster or cyclone and other rides in between, or you can also just walk around. Why choose a ride you don’t want?

God said:

Here is a lesson in life. This is a great lesson for you to learn. It is a basic lesson. For a long time, you have not absorbed this lesson. You have flouted it, or ego has flouted it for you. Here is the message to uphold:

You don’t have to stick up for yourself.

In the world, as you imagine it, life demands that you stick up for yourself. It demands that you joust with words, for, as it seems to you, no one has the right to overlook you or insult you or demean you in any way.

You presuppose that what someone says or doesn’t say has the power to demean you. You may be quick to give away your own God-given power.

You may say to yourself: “This time I will stick up for myself.”

When you stick up for yourself, you think you are saying: “You must not affront me. You have no right to affront me.” Just so, you have given the seeming other the right. You just handed it to him as you say, “Look, you have affronted me.”

I don’t tell you to be a mouse. I am telling you that it is a mouse that squeaks. The seeming other does not have to get a rise out of you. You do not have to give away your sacred power. You do not have to give your sacred power over to anyone. Even if you are in prison, you can keep your Power to yourself in Silence.

Do you fear that being silent is acquiescing? Being silent holds a great deal of power. Or, you can respond, “Of course.” Okay means: “Okay, let’s go on with life.”

God said:

There is a small distance, if distance at all, between exquisite beauty and exquisite agony. There is a meeting point where ecstasy is ecstasy regardless of the seeming cause. Both beauty and agony cut your heart up at this meeting place in which your heart beats or throbs or bellows or cries out: “It is too much for me to be joined to everyone and everything.”

The depth of bliss and the depth of pain seem to be the same to you. Exquisite bliss and exquisite pain hurt My beautiful children equally. You do not know where to find the shore.

Yet I, the God of Oneness, know no pain. There is no place for pain in My Heart of Wholeness. My heart is wedded to bliss and knows not the side you delve into. There is no darkness in My heart. Oneness is so deep it leaves no room for anything but the deepest joy accountable or not.

Yet you may well leave unfilled space in your heart and find great sorrow, wrenches of sorrow, sense of loss of joy as if joy can be tarred and quartered. Your heart aches by whatever name the ache is known. In the greatest joy, you experience the haunting of subtraction even as Oneness is. Oneness may wrench your heart when you are just verging on the Joy of Oneness -- this is the real story. Oneness seems to burst your heart open, and your heart cries for mercy. Such great joy is a heart-breaker until you get used to it.

God said:

It is I Who is your servant, dear child. You protest. You say: “God, that You serve does not make You a servant.”

Beloved beloved, We are not We but One, and, so it is that the Served is the Server. Or, it can be said, that there is Self-Service, and this is all there can be. You have heard before that the Seeker is the Sought. The One Who finds can only find himself. If there is only Oneness, the Fullness of Oneness, then it can also be said that there is no one to seek. There is only the Found. That which you seek is Thy Own Self. Can Oneness hunt Oneness?

In this sense, grammar plays a part. There is a big division and intricate display of that which is named grammar. Only straight-out Being is True. You are the Be-er of Being. There is no action, interaction, or cross-action. Grammar tries to keep you in place.

It has been said that John loves Mary, yet love is not exactly movement. Love is Being. It cannot correctly be said that John loves Mary. It can correctly be said that John loves, the sun shines, water is wet, yet nothing goes anywhere or can land anywhere. In one sense, it cannot truthfully be said that Being is everywhere because there is no space for Being to go to. Being is full, yet there is no somewhere for Being to travel to or from or to be received or given.

Of course, science says that the truth is that everything is in motion as unseen atoms streaming when Life is still life. Only Stillness exists.

All speech is a manner of speech.

Existence is life.

God said:

A lot is said about My Will being done. This is not fully understood. That My Will be done implies that all of your life is a done deal and not open to your will. Not so. Your life is pending, and you have great say in your life.

If it can be said that I give mercy, it may also be said that I withhold mercy. There is a misunderstanding of terms, beloveds. That I give mercy may imply that I make judgments or even retribution.

It is for you to be merciful of yourself, and, therefore, everyone else.

Rather than My Will as a decision, I ask that you be willing. For you to be willing is a great thing. Instead of resolute, you are willing. You are willing to accept. You are willing to enjoy life and jam and butter. You are willing to let go of error. You are willing to give, and willing to give more, and willing to roll with life and eschew judgment. You are willing to let go of the concept of right and wrong.

What a boon it is when you can let go of judgment and condemnation and all that. Letting go takes a lot off your mind. Judgment is heavy. It weighs a lot. Without judgment, you lie by the still waters. Light is your canoe, and bright is the sun.