When you look into the past or into the future, you see only a picture. The past and future, as you know them, are photographs. The past is an album of photographs that have faded. They are two-dimensional. Deeply in your heart, you know there is no room for the past. Where can it be put? Where can it be stored? Much of it has lapsed away. And why would you hold it? And yet you pull out these still photographs again and again.
The future is made of photographs as well, photographs undeveloped. The future exists of photographs you take ahead of time. The future is like a ball you toss far away, and you imagine where it lands and what its landing looks like.
The past is a play you have seen. The future is one you strobe in your mind.
The present now is another story. It is full of dimensions. In the embrace of the present, past and future do not exist. They cannot occupy the present. They can only occupy your mind. You draw lines to mark time. You may not consider time an illusion, but you will agree that it is illusive.
You think the past is permanent, but there is no time so the past does not exist. It's just a thought stuck in your mind. All thoughts are passing.
Only the present is eternal. Existence is eternal. The present is beyond thought. The present is eternity.
You are the stream, and there is an ever-flowing present.
Time doesn't stand still. Time never was. Time doesn't race either, for how can it when it does not exist? Yet the world is caught up in the concept of time, the perception of time, the meter of time. The world even has clocks.
Can you imagine a clock in Heaven?
The world is so brazenly conscious of time. It is ruled by time. A metronome clicks, and the world bows down to it. The world scurries at the behest of the ticking clock. It races but can never catch up. You cannot catch up to what does not exist. The hand of the clock points before you can get there. A wind-up toy sets your pace. Isn't it amazing that the world is run by the tick of a clock? What folly is this? Who proclaimed the baton of time?
The physical always disintegrates. Illusion falls apart. It cannot last because it is illusion. Illusion stops short of truth.
Love lasts because it never was not. That which exists exists. And you exist.
This body of yours is fol de rol. It runs a close race with time. Both aspire to be king. But you are independent of time and the physical. You run a different course.
Don't you love the idea of no time, of timelessness. When time does not exist, what can the hurry be?
Life has its own schedule. It's not printed anywhere. The schedule of your life is like an echo you hear softly in the distance. You respond to it. It calls you irresistibly. Before you know it, you have shown up in the right nonexistent place at the right nonexistent time.
And here you are now. I say "here" — the use of the word implies there is somewhere else. And I say "now" — "now" implies that there is a not now. And I say "you" and I say "I", implying that We are two rather than One.
I AM. You ARE. We.
What else is there to say?