Everything and Nothing at All

God said:

The story of your life on earth is painted in scenes. One painted scene is made of vivid colors. Another is muted. Like paintings in a museum, you pause at each one, and then you go on past it to another. Some you spend more time on than others. But always you go from one painting to another, finish, and then move on into another room. There is always another room or another gallery somewhere for you to walk through. It is eternity you walk through with one gait or another.

So We can say that your present life on earth is a walk-through. An aisle you go down. An arcade. There is much to pull your attention as you walk through this life. Regardless, your walk through life is a passage. Even if you are bedridden, you still go down corridors. You are not idle. In any case, you never stand still.

Or We could say that you are a shopper and life is a store with many items. It is a super store. It has everything in it. Its shelves are stocked with everything imaginable and unimaginable. Sometimes goods come toppling down. Sometimes boxes are empty. Sometimes you find everything you want, and sometimes nothing satisfies.

Or life is a catalog that you receive in the mail.

Or life is a library with so many choices. Everyone has a library card. And many books are taken out, on loan for a while, yours to ponder or flip through as you like.

Or life is a bookstore. Even books that you buy are merely on loan to you for a while.

You belong where you are, but nothing belongs to you. You are a transient in life. You are a passerby of it. You dribble your fingers along the trees lining your path.

Even when you are in familiar territory, you don't know what is next. And no two scenes are alike.

Yet it is always you walking, strolling, ambling, dashing, jumping, leaping across your life.

There are participants in your life, and there are bystanders. Soon or late, you all come to the same place. A golden staircase awaits you. And you climb. When you look back, you see that all of your life was a climb on a grand royal staircase. You just thought you were on one level. What once seemed interminable, now you see was half a blink of the eye. Your whole life was really contained in one moment. Time was just a passing thought.

And wherever you thought you were, whatever you thought surrounded you, why, there was nothing at all. You realize that the corridors you had walked down were made of mirrors. All the reflections you saw on your way were really images of you. The glass perhaps did not reflect perfectly or your vision was blurred, yet behind the mirrors lay great treasure.

From great heights, now you can see perfectly, and you see that you were seeing yourself. You recognize that you are the entirety of creation. What you thought was a place you stood on was something you carried. All the scenery displayed ... Why, you were glimpsing your own art!

There was nothing to dispute and no one to dispute with. You played all the parts. The places you went, the paintings you saw, the landscapes, the surrealism, the earth, the sky, all were illusions, and you, all along, were the magician. There is no place. There is no time. There is no other. There is only the Oneness of creation, a game of hopscotch, a passing fantasy, a whirl of color from your own brush. You were everything. You are everything. All is stationed within you, never kept, and never lost.

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Soon or late

Soon or late, you all come to the same place. A golden staircase awaits you. And you climb. When you look back, you see that all of your life was a climb on a grand royal staircase. You just thought you were on one level. What once seemed interminable, now you see was half a blink of the eye. Your whole life was really contained in one moment. Time was just a passing thought.
 
And wherever you thought you were, whatever you thought surrounded you, why, there was nothing at all. You realize that the corridors you had walked down were made of mirrors. All the reflections you saw on your way were really images of you. The glass perhaps did not reflect perfectly or your vision was blurred, yet behind the mirrors lay great treasure.

 
God, if time existed, that would mean You said this six and a half years ago.


From great heights, now you can see perfectly, and you see that you were seeing yourself. You recognize that you are the entirety of creation. What you thought was a place you stood on was something you carried. All the scenery displayed ... Why, you were glimpsing your own art!


 
Well, of course, how can God be anything but patient when patience, like time and like otherness, is a rabbit pulled out of some hat.


There was nothing to dispute and no one to dispute with. You played all the parts. The places you went, the paintings you saw, the landscapes, the surrealism, the earth, the sky, all were illusions, and you, all along, were the magician. There is no place. There is no time. There is no other. There is only the Oneness of creation, a game of hopscotch, a passing fantasy, a whirl of color from your own brush. You were everything. You are everything. All is stationed within you, never kept, and never lost.


 
These are very beautiful words, You know. It should not puzzle me that we are "still" discussing them, but it does.

Mind scratches its head when reading Your words, trying to somehow fit them into its preconceived notions. Heart only smiles. Since You are giving us so many Heavenletters even after You have said it all, it must be You know it's not easy for us to switch from mind to heart while reading Your messages. And if that's all right with You, how could I object?

nothing at all

And wherever you thought you were, whatever you thought surrounded you, why, there was nothing at all.

 
So good to hear Your dear old song again.