Come here within, where the air is light and filled with a sweetness you thought you’d never find again.

You have lost yourself in a dream of forgetting.  Remain by My side now as we enter your room, the one always waiting for you.  The one you never leave though you close your eyes and dream of faraway journeys that often cause you grief and worry.  But you are here with Me now.  We are one, you know.  Well, you do know.  You know and have the right to remember.  You can speak from the place of no words.  Try it, it is not forgotten in you.  You can do all the things that are true of life.  You can become what you have never stopped being.  You are the morning in a Sky that writes wonderful stories for the telling, and for the moment that wants to know itself.

You are not a body, dear one.  You have not acquired a separated self that needs coddling and reassuring.  You have never gone, can never go, where life does not exist … it is a cosmic impossibility.  It is funny that you think you can.  But then, you think many funny things, and they do not serve you well or bring you the happiness that it is your true nature to feel.

You like it here with Me, don’t you?  It is safe and warm with these things of the heart.  There are no rules or rulers here.  No climbing the stairs to see above the clouds.  You needn’t wait for the new to come; it unfolds to reveal what has always been, even if you’ve never seen that incarnation of it before.  It is playful this world that keeps changing coats and slippers to appear one thing and then another, and then all over again but differently.  You get caught up in the differentness and think it is somehow significant, but it isn’t, it’s always just us, you and Me, playing around, being what we are: creative.

There is a still breeze that moves the curtain on the window of my mind.  It is a nearly imperceptible movement made by a breath so fine that it seems it has not happened.  A breath so quiet, so small, so slight, so … not there.   At least, not there, to my human perception as I live it now.

How lovely to know that there is Something extraordinary that passes beyond my gaze and I do not perceive it.  It permits the Kingdom of Heaven to exist while I look at a world in discord.  Do not show yourself to me, Gentlest Ruffle of Them All.  Do not draw my human eyes to see you.   You are so silent and so nearly not there that I allow myself to believe you don’t exist.

Yet, you do exist, and because you do, though I do not see you, you are a promise in my life, in my world, and I will find you, perhaps when I am not looking too carefully or seeking too hard.  Now, won’t that be a wonderful thing!

Oh, very, very Quiet Thing, how can I know you when I strain so.

Be still, I sense somewhere within me.  Be still in this moment that has no other beyond it.  Be still, and let this moment speak, for the Moment does speak.  Hear what it says in its singularity of purpose, in its reason for being:  I am rich with Whispers, it says; I am a Giving and this is the only instant for giving.  I am the gentleness that is your strength; I am the fulfilled longing for what has not gone awry.  There is a book that sits quietly on your heart and it has lovely words written upon it. These are Words that open you to joys and hopes and promises that you thought stolen by the passage of time.

Let me speak these words you long to hear, dear.  Let me tell you that you are the Sun.  You are the Night that never closes the door to the light of Forevermore.  I am so close to you–I am you.  You are this and so much more. You are more than the fingers that touch an outer world that feels so real but is only brittle driftwood waiting to become dust.  What is lasting is within you.

You are love.  Too long have you confused what love is while the word is loudly bandied about in the marketplace outside your inner self.  Love is the quietness of Good rejoicing.  It is the cup that runneth over, the wind that carries you unbidden to your greatest happiness.  It is what you are–it is the thing never looked for, never sought, and never needed.  It is the very substance of your being in its wisest and deepest terms.  It is what never goes away.  It is the isness of being, the very nature of Nature–supreme and undaunted.  It is what can never be altered or threatened or lost.  It is the peace in the quiet, the song in the bird, the depth of the measure, the fullness of a chord.

Cry not for loss, there is no loss.  See within this moment a gentle Presence, your own self, whole and wholly with you.  Sense this now.  Nowhere is there a thing of jagged edges gaudily painted up and parading about for your agreement.  Sense what is really here in this ordinary moment that seems just like the one before.  See that the new, the possible, the fresh…the innocent, has come.

Be still, but not as you have understood it when obeying others.  Be still, as you understand only yourself. See that in you is the bridge to the World you think you see no more.  You need not prepare yourself in any way to hope, to reach.  It is in this moment of stillness that What Is will gather around your awareness–not when you look for it, but when you do not.  You can do so much more when you do so much less.

You are the Song that you cannot hear with your ear.  You are the Soundless that makes a melody of your life.  And you  are the rhapsody of Aliveness meant for expressing as you play at being human.

You are sacred.