What you wake up to is yourself.
It is your door you knock on.
It is your table you set.
It is your day that dawns.
Welcome yourself to eternity. Pull out a chair. Tell yourself to sit down. Offer yourself some tea. Put a great feast on your table. Be the honored guest to yourself.
And then invite many to your table.
Your table is your life. So you bring many others to the table laden with the goodness life offers.
You treat yourself, and then you are a treat to others.
Everything starts with you.
Forgive yourself, and then you can forgive others, and others can forgive themselves.
Be benevolent to yourself, and all else follows.
Open doors to yourself, and you open the doors to the entire universe.
You cannot serve yourself alone. You cannot do disservice to yourself alone.
There is a correlation between how you hold yourself in your heart, and how you hold Me. If you make little of yourself, where is the room for Me?
It is not that you make yourself big. You are already great enough for the One of Us.
There is nothing you have to fashion but your ideas of yourself.
Your thoughts bounce around the universe and return to you. You serve a tennis ball, and it is paddled back to you.
You strew flowers, and you will be flower-strewn. However, you have to be looking.
What are you looking for?
Do you perhaps welcome tribulation? Do you perhaps stand out in the middle of the road waiting to be hit? What do you claim? What is your policy?
You do not have to go out of your way for anything. All that you call will find its way to you. Call out love, and you will be drowned in love.
Start from the end first. Imagine how your life would be ever-doused with love. What would it look like? How could you not smile and be joyous? Overflowing with joy, joy you would bestow. You would have more joy than you would know what to do with, so you would hand it over to others for their joy. Joy every which way.
You would swim in joy. And you would splash everyone. You could do nothing else. And what else would you want to do? What else could you possibly conceive of doing?
Who would toil when there is only play? You would play all day, giving joy away, giving joy away for the asking. Of course, no one would have to ask for it for they would also be joy-laden.
Instead of money, there would be joy exchanged.
Love would break its bounds. There would be no bounds to love. Love and joy would trip over themselves. There would be no poor. All would be wealthy in love. All would be marketers of love, marketeers of love. There would be no racketeers, if racketeers there were, they would fill coffers. They would run around putting love in the tills.
With love rampant, everyone would be real. Only truth would be spoken, and the truth would be love.
All signs on stores would say: "Love is in. New love and recycled love. Get your love here."
Hawkers would holler, "Love."
When only love is known, what else is there to know?
You would study in school for the love of the teacher and for the love of the subject and for the love of God. You would prepare assignments for Me. You would outdo yourself because of all the love. There would be no detention. There would be no homework, for with love, nothing is work. All is play.