A Holy Reckoning
You are the happening. Love is happening, and you are love. You are what's going on. You are more than a surfer of life. You are the life you surf, and you are your life at its very depth as well. You are the storm, and you are the sun, and you are the mist, and you are all that befalls. You are, indeed, my dream come true. You are. What ensues then is your dream, beloveds.
You dream a dream, and you call it life. Sometimes you blame it on other sources, and yet you are the maker of your own life. Where you started is not a roll of the dice, and yet, even if it were, even if your birth were a spin of the wheel, wherever you may have landed, now the rest is up to you. This is true at every moment of your life. You are a world-turner.
How do I say this is true when, in the same breath, I tell you that you are not to control life? I am not talking about control nor demand nor force. I am talking about what you make of your life, this gift of your life. How will you treat it? Will you love it, or will you merely dribble it with your left hand as if you had nothing better to do?
It is an exciting thing to have a life, and you have one. How shall you adore it? How shall you interact with it? To be or not to be is not the question. You already are. How you are going to consume and relish your life is the question, and that, beloveds, should not be in question. Treat life wholeheartedly. Hug your life to you. Clasp it. Hold it high.
It is a high adventure that you have set sail on. As you stand on the prow of your ship, how do you sail? No matter what direction your ship is facing, with the sun in front or in back, how do you sail? And whether a storm is at the prow or stern, how do you sail? And when there is no wind, how do you sail? And when the sea is clear, how do you sail? Whatever your cargo on this ship of life, how do you sail? It is up to you how you sail. You are the sailor who sails. You are the steerer of your own ship.
It is you who paces the decks. It is you who calls out. It is you who sees the gulls, and it is you who hires the hands, and it is you who treats the crew well, and it is you who keeps the boat steady, and it is you who rocks it.
You are the seaman of your own sea.
Indeed, you do paint a picture of yourself, and yet you are far more than the picture you paint. You are My original creation. You are My beloved making furrows through the sea. The ship floats on the waters, and you float on the ship. There is quite an interdependence in life. As waves go up and down, so does your ship. And as your ship goes, so go you.
You are always in sight of shore. You may not be looking, but that does not make the shore any further away.
On whatever land you arrive, it is holy land, beloveds. This life of yours is a holy thing. It is not material nor immaterial. It is holy. It is a holy reckoning you make of yourself.