The Essential Me

I am a Soul. I am much more than the word of it. I will draw now its essence. This essence is my nature, and from it I understand everything that I am.

I am like a Tree. It is why I love Trees, we are of a kind, the same and other. In my deepest self I am a flowing river of light rooted in unchangingness. From there I am reaching up—high, wide, expansively. I am always reaching. I am reaching to release a dream. I am a dreamer, I possess the attribute of creativity. Dreams are my medium. I dream of wonders and delights; my heart is so pure that it imbues my mind with the  perception of the infinite goodness that is All That Is. I am of the All That Is. I am good.

And I am whole. I trust the knowing in my mind. My Great Heart is my anchor in the eternal. It is the immortal of me. I am a sacred self made of Love. Even when I dream and don’t know it. Sometimes I dream of becoming human. Just for a little while and just because. When a human, I bring sorrow to joy. Darkness to light. Forgetting to knowing. Nevertheless, laughter is instilled in me to fool the doubt and keep me sane. Laughter is not needed very much in Heaven for there is no doubt or loss of self there. All I do when I am human is try to balance all the contradictoriness around me and keep my center from falling of a cliff. When I get it right, I am at ease with the contrariness and bring order and beauty to my world in spite of all the world around me.  I learn many things about myself and my powers when I am human, none of them easily wrought but all meaningful.

Eventually I leave the dream of being human. I wake from a slumber that felt so real, so immediate, so urgent. And I laugh, amazed I thought what I thought there. I stand still for a moment and shake myself awake, glad to be back in timelessness, joyful to regain my allness and the power I thought I’d lost. I encounter the loving souls I’d shared that dream with and we embrace with pleasure, reunited in what cannot take us apart any longer—until the next dream of limitation, of course. We’ll keep going there, dreaming another dream, planning another scheme, forgetting in order to regain the relief of remembering. We’ll keep going there, for with each dream we bring to that illusion a greater measure of Heaven, until possibly, that dream world can become a place of real magic within a material semblance. It is our canvas, we are its artists. Already we have brought it much beauty, music and brightness. Being infinite, we have more to bring. Much much more.

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