Heaven Letters Published on: March 8, 2013

You have opinions about life, and some of your opinions are bright and sparkling, and some are not so bright and sparkling. You may say that the dark aspects of life are true. They are true as you see them, and it’s true that dark elements of life, as you see them, pull you down.

It is equally true that the bright elements lift you up, and you become light as a feather. Which would you rather be? Heavy as a boulder, or light as a feather? Which would you choose? Which choice will more easily lift you to Heaven? Every day, perhaps many times a day, you are choosing a rock or a feather. Upon what do you base your choice? You say it is reality.

You may say there are more rocks in the world than feathers.

Heaven Letters Published on: March 6, 2013

How you wish you could love, really love, love without attachment to love itself which can only survive without attachment. Attachment is like handcuffs that bind. Attachment is a having to have. Love isn’t had. It isn’t purchased. It isn’t taken. It isn’t forfeited. Love belongs, yet it is not a belonging.

Love is like a bird that must be free to fly. Love is poised. It comes from a high place that cannot be enchained. Love, by its very nature, must be free to soar! Love does not like to make itself small or dehydrated or fast-frozen. Love likes to be wave and wave of itself. Love must be a bird that flies high. Flying birds are not to capture one another. They are to free one another in order to accompany each other. Neither is the chattel of the other. Love cannot be owned. Love isn’t like that.

Heaven Letters Published on: March 4, 2013

If only you could feel love in your heart for everyone, you would. You would gladly, only you can’t seem to get to that place. You try, and just can’t seem to. It isn’t simple for you. Somehow, sometimes, you dig a hole for yourself where your heart can only be buried, stiffened, a stranger to itself. You would come back to love, and, yet, you can’t seem to bring yourself to do it. Something underlies your sense of disparity.

There is some kind of proof of another’s unworthiness that you can’t seem to remove. You wish you could. You wish you had good feelings for this person. If only you could dismiss your opposition to this person instead of the person himself. You do ask yourself: “Why oh why do I object so much to this person? When will this dislike leave me? When will it get out of my mind?”

Heaven Letters Published on: March 2, 2013

I am not a fly-by-night God. I am not a sometimes God. I am a forever God. It’s My joy to be God. From My joy, I created you. You belong to joy. Let go of all that is not joy for you and keep only joy. That which is not joy for you is not because of a person or situation. You think it is. Whatever the persons or situations may be, they stir something in you that finds something outside of you intolerable. You may even say: “I can’t stand this or that. It drives me up the wall.”

Without your abeyances, no one, no situation has that kind of power over you. What is the offender to you really? Oh, yes, the person and/or situation has triggered something in you. In you, beloveds.

Heaven Letters Published on: February 28, 2013

Let’s take a little jaunt today. Let’s go over the horizon and see what it’s like to walk on air and see the stars from a different angle as if there were no distance between you and the stars and the light and the Maker of the Stars and all your heart’s desires.

What if, in your eyes, it could really be true that distance does not exist. If distance does not exist, then, in a way, closeness does not. However, Oneness is Oneness. There is nothing whatsoever to distance, and no gaps to close. Words are words, you know. Words do the best they can, yet words are substitutes for Reality. Words are approximations. Words do a good job. Words aspire to find the right approximation. Words aspire to put themselves together so they reveal the wonder they wish to express. And yet words cannot say it all. The word Vastness is not quite Vastness Itself.