Tell me what to remember, I implore myself. Take me beyond my senses to what of me is true.

I sit in a chair that contains my presence in a room that keeps itself in Space and Time, just for me. My inner world remains harmonious even amidst the discord invented by delusion. My inner world is real.

What can I do for you, asks the pillow I rest my head upon—its soft presence is so peaceful. All the objects of my world have assembled to bless my time on Earth. Each came to bring me the gift of itself for my fulfillment. To know that this is the true reality, brings me joy in a world that does not know wondrous magic.

Yes, to know aliveness, is my primary happiness. From it opens all the rest of my life like a paper flower in a bowl of water. I am meant to glide softly in the Infinite Sea of Life that contains my life and let it create my most unique world from my dreams. I am breathed. I am thought. I take pleasure in this breath I am. I take pleasure in this thinker I am. I am a knower, a believer, one reliant on a safe Universe, where my entire being is cherished, guided, loved, upheld, and provided for.

It gives me joy to know the poetry of life, and to sense the deeper reality of the trees, the creatures of the Earth, and the imaginary world of “inanimate material things.” It makes me happy to be on Earth and remember where I come from and what I can hope for. I am alive in my mind and unbound by linear time. I am a Spiritual Being. And I know it.

There are writings on the walls of my inner room where I find all I love and hope for. I tell no one, but I tell myself. The world will blossom and receive my quiet knowing as the invisible and silent Wind stirs me into the creation of my dreams. Remember, it whispers. Remember who you are.

My dreams are the ones I brought with me to build the castles in the air of illusion. I come from beyond time and space and have remained a part of the Silver River that holds all things in its current. From within it my dream castles materialize brilliantly.

Today I am stringing words to bring my inner self to visibility that you may join me in remembering to place your dreams into the Silent Invisible of your true self and make happiness. This is how the real story of humanity is written—we are the Adventurous Oracles for the Mind that is Infinite. We weave magical castles out of our feeling thoughts that make our PlanetGarden grow and, we, with it.

I spent some time putting my files in order before I set to writing. I write faithfully every day to quiet my senses and draw reality from the hearth of my eternal home. I usually am hesitant to start writing. It is hard to leave one mental space for another. It calls for ungluing from a world that has a strangle hold on me to one where I am totally free. The disparity is great, and I resist making the shift to a different kind of perception. I know it will be hard to come back to Earth.

I have only words now to make the ineffable real, to tell myself about my true nature—I knew myself before I became a human. Perhaps, for this reason, are my words magical words. I receive them as if they were sacred promises held in secret, waiting to be found, because something sacred waits to be found. But I don’t know what will be said by the little keys standing patiently for my touch. We will be surprised. In becoming a person I closed myself off from the Waterfall that erupts from my slightest asking into a sparkling torrent of inspiration.

I am still thinking about those files and so my attention is split. I often seek distractions to dispel my chronic feelings of dépaysement—a French word for the feeling of disorientation that occurs when you find yourself in a country that is not your home (the whole feeling-tone of my life on Earth). Just seeing an outer world has been too much for me. From the day of my birth I felt the outer impressions draw me away from my center of being. Much of the time my two worlds collide rather than meet to harmonize into fresh climes of experience. My once single mind has become an unruly country, and I am too often ruled by its clutter.

Surprisingly, I find peace and order in gazing at my coffee cup. The blue one I like so much. I realize it is because it is straight-sided and plain and sits so convincingly on the desk. It looks sure of itself. I’ve never understood complicated things. I started life very simple. When I was what the world calls a child, I believed in happiness. It took only going to my innermost self to show me a world standing upright. It was all within me, so real I didn’t have to imagine it. That need came later, when I saw another world outside myself. Like laughter for balance, imagination was invented to help humans create from their separateness.

I stayed a long time with my tiny feet on planet Earth while I remained open to the silent potential within me. Knowing that all I needed as a human being came from within me I never searched for anything in the world. I let each gift of life come, confident it would. It always did. And as I remained at-one with my subtle nature, the outer world kept on its course. My room was always my room in the seasons that came and went under a sun that allowed each evolving morning to turn a child into a woman who now had to imagine her real self.

…. ah, the coffee needs replenishing!

The need for hot coffee brings me out of my reverie. It was from love of others that I let myself look away from my innerness. A world of “other people” now held my attention. Today’s writing stirred the still waters to become a waterfall and brought me my simple self. For a moment. But I’ll keep writing.

Forever is here. Confident coffee cups show it. And little backlit keys rejoice when they tell of it. It’s that kind of reality.

I am, she said. She said it softly, as if it were a secret. A truth to be kept secret because it was such a sacred thing. She knew empowerment in the depth of her being when she said these words. They grounded her. Strengthened her. Two little words.

Only two words and something was born. Something so vast, deep, far-reaching, close, that she could no longer exclude herself from herself.

I am, she said, and her world changed because the changeless had been called upon.

This morning feels different somehow. As the coffee brews I wonder what will be written today. Is someone going to speak? I seem particularly focused on the waiting keys. When I tap them gently, as I like to do, I feel I am connecting to someone I am always learning something new about: my self. There is always something interesting. Not always happy.

I find magic in writing. Letters assemble and something is revealed. I meet myself in this new thing—someone living breathing me is now present. She is the one I am making this most perplexing journey with. She is feeling, without her I don’t know who I am. When I write, she is no longer lost in the crowd of people I see each day around me. In the world, I look for her in that crowd of people but she disappears within them. It is when I write that the people disappear and she becomes real. Just me and the keys. Just us. No one else. Nothing else. A quiet world that can expand into infinity and bring me relief.

I possess keys that unlock the room of my imagination. I become whole again. I am not only what can be seen.