The only reason I ever write is to be with my Self. I am dependent on words now but my inner being tells me not to worry about this, so I don’t. I find every writer is trying to find the words that will truly say what she or he means, so we repeat ourselves with nuances. My Charlie is a writer, and often we laugh over the fact that each of us is always writing the same book, telling the same story, and that our favorite authors are, too.

We are all writing to be with our Self, we can only experience our own consciousness. We’re all trying to get closer to the truth that lives within us that can’t be found out there. We tell stories about ourselves, we invent the characters that will act them out. Just as the human we are is the character our Soul has invented to act out something it wants to understand. With each writing we hope to use truer words, tell a more perfect story. Doing it only for money (a noble reason, of course), makes for a different kind of “story.” That’s not the writing I’m talking about, although even there, something of the self is revealed. When I wrote copy in advertising, I learned a lot about myself.

What I have found over time is that it isn’t my books that are getting truer each time, it is that I have more of myself. In the discipline of writing I cut through the mountain of meaningless “information” that I have to face each day. My writing gets me to the essence of my internal knowing. Finding it makes all the difference to my life because I am not writing to hear from my ego but from my higher Self. I don’t journal about where I went yesterday or today.

I let myself receive. The wisdom I’m after has a sweet voice. It doesn’t pound on tables and insist on being believed, or even heard. Since it hasn’t a made-up persona it has nothing to defend. It is the direct opposite of my stance as a human being and it’s a tricky thing for my human to surrender to. And yet, I require this surrender, because it is who I really am. The human me is only a fiction, which is why it can be healed of anything.

I understand the need for a mask and a costume when assuming a role. It’s what we do when we come here to play out our Soul’s story. I fully expected to find myself doing this when I arrived. Still, I have remained my Inner Being; Arlene is a character my Inner Being explores Life on Earth with. My Inner Being remains the same, but Arlene exists only for the time being. The problem starts when I feel I am only Arlene. That’s what most people feel. They cannot feel the Great One Within anymore. It’s been conditioned out of their awareness. It’s not gone, just not made conscious.

And so, that’s what I write about. I puzzle over my humanity because I still have vivid memory and awareness of my free, immortal Self. That Self holds me when I weep over missing what I can’t feel of myself anymore. And when I sit with intent to create, not empty but full with Life, out pours the Light with reassurances in words and images of the wonder of the two of aspects of one Being. Together we say:

“Our” story lives in Arlene’s books, that’s why she writes them. Most often she doesn’t know which one of us is talking. She doesn’t have to. It just complicates things. She keeps things simple. Not too many questions, just quiet listening and writing down. Our secret is: we intend to break that well-known worldly spell, one gentle word at a time.