Heaven Letters Published on: July 15, 2013

From My heart to yours I issue love, and from you, My love goes out to all the world. And, yet, how to say this -- there is no My love. There is no such thing. There is love, and love flows from one heart to another. There is no other way.

There are no packages of love, and there is no ownership. In Truth, there is no ownership period. What is owned in the world? How can illusion be owned? Many can have it. All can have it, and, yet, love is in no one’s possession. It is everyone’s. It is all’s. Illusion does not stand on its own. Poof, and illusion is gone.

Who owns the rain? Or the sun? Who can keep anything to himself? I suppose one can keep food to himself. Eat it all up. But then it is gone. I suppose one could say the food has gone into his very cells. Yet who owns his body, fat or lean?

Heaven Letters Published on: July 13, 2013

Heaven Letters Published on: July 10, 2013

From the pulpit where I sit, I am quiet, and I am watchful, and I am aware, and I communicate to you. I Who am Silence, listen carefully.

At the same time, I communicate with you constantly. I mean everyone, not just one or some. I am the Great Communicator. I communicate in the wind and the waters and in everything. The trees are whispering to you, and the rocks and the stones, and I am communicating with you. I whisper in your ear.

Speech is not always communicating, you understand. Sometimes speech prevents communication. Two people yakking doesn’t mean that they are communicating.

Heaven Letters Published on: July 8, 2013

There are levels and layers. Within each of My children, many levels or layers exist, and you stop off at varying ones as a matter of course. Sometimes you are really on, and sometimes you feel off. Sometimes you skim the surface, and sometimes you scan the depths. You, you yourself, are more than one dimension. You are many-dimensioned. You are inner space, and you are outer space. You are more far-reaching than you credit yourself with.

Despite your denseness, you are not always dense. You have sparkling moments of enlightenment where you know far more than you own to. Sometimes you are like someone who has traveled the world and forgotten where he’s traveled. You may have an inkling that you have been somewhere, yet it’s like someone else snapped his fingers at you, as if to say: “Get back here where I AM. Wake up!” Even the part of you who snaps his fingers at you has had to be where he snapped his fingers for you to leave.