I have a secret life. I am not crippled by five senses.

There is, everywhere, a gentle mist of truth that can only be known by knowing and it brings me the crisp conviction of what is everlasting. I stand, not empty.

While there is a scent I cannot smell; a whisper I cannot hear; a warmth I never touch nor wear, there is a life that cannot be better lived than by trust and reliance. There is “another” life that is the only life. I look through a scrim to let it touch me. There is truth somewhere that is here in disguise.

But what is here is only myself … my Self. Here I am, created to be receiving all that cannot be seen or heard and, containing all of Forever, I’ve been giving it steps to walk through the forest of disbelief. Yes.

But this is a new day. It comes to enable me to choose afresh. Today my secret life is admitted to. I am true to what I am while in the shadows of disbelief. Yes.

I am Life. There is no disbelief.

When comes a new day freshness enters the world.

When comes a new day a page appears to write upon, a page free from what has been.

When comes a new day I come with it for I am its light.

I create, I remind myself, so that Life can fill in the blanks. My ink stains don’t lie. They did not create themselves. They were left by something that was always here. Yet, something new and true and more than merely mine.

I am in a dream that has me thinking very strange things about myself. But it is a dream that is teaching me I don’t have to go the way of others and think myself unable to dance because my steps are different.

Can it be that I need not ask so many questions? Can it be that the answer is my Gentle mind that knows the silent invisible? I think without words. I understand untaught. I do this because I am not merely human..

Even in a dream where I appear to be.

I listen, to permit the flow.

I listen, to remember there is something to remember.

I listen, to receive my life.

I made a nice drawing today. I thought you’d want to know and be happy with me. Because I know this about you, you are happy when I’m happy and that increases my happiness to be more happy than can be experienced here.

And I know why this is true. You are the part of me not locked up in a little box. You are the one whose breath takes in the eternal, the infinite, the marvelousness of being.

And not anything else. So it doesn’t matter, does it, about all those flitting pictures picturing that “anything else.” No, it matters not at all.

My new swirly design is lovely. I like where it took me and I like how it worked along with me. We were doing it together, I could feel it, I could see it unfold.

(Was that you drawing with me?)

The word I’ve been thinking of for you lately is Presence. I’m not the only one that uses that word for you. But today, for the first time, I asked you about you, in order to better define you for myself because a name for you separates us. I know you little realize how much of you I have forgotten since you feel I am still there with you. Oh, how much of you has become blurred and blurry having been superimposed with so much of that “anything else” world.

We are thinkers you and I. What I need, is to understand how you think. Do you know what I mean? I do a lot of thinking, and all around me I am aware of more than my own thinking and it’s all only a big cloud of confusion that engulfs and weighs me down. I can’t hear what is real, I don’t remember what is true. I’m just not home in gentle peace and quiet joy. Peace. You know, your peace. I hear too much noise. Coming from me. And them. I just want to be home. In myself. A place I strangely call a Presence when you are only what I am, after all.