The medium you paint in is life. And life is also the picture you paint. Life is your paintbrush, and life is the paper or canvas you paint on. Do you see how life is not really a separate thing in isolated parts? Nor is life a whirlwind, yet it is a composite.
You share the canvas, for you are not the only one who paints on it. Still, choose your colors well.
Life is a carpet you weave. You weave the threads, and the threads are the story of your life. You choose the threads, and you choose how you will tie them. Your life is made of the threads you weave and how you weave them in and out.
Life is a dance you have come to. Circumstances present themselves. They are part of the dance, and, yet, you are the dancer. You dance in what you call the evening, and yet dance which is made of beats and rhythm, the tap of your foot goes beyond time. If life is a dance, you are dancing all the time. There is no morning, noon, and night. Even when you sleep, you haven’t stopped the dance of life. You really never stop, for you ride on a moving escalator. There really is no pace to life, beloveds.
Do you begin to see how there is no past, present, or future? That which you call the present is Eternity. Eternity isn’t really in waves. We can call it the Ocean, and yet Eternity is far vaster than the Ocean or a lagoon. The Ocean is a concept. Eternity is its own Vastness. In one sense, there is no difference between an ocean, lagoon, or a drop of tap water. The Infinite is, well, infinite. There is no end to it, and there is no beginning either. We could say that the Infinite just keeps moseying along, and yet the Infinite doesn’t mosey or do anything at all. I suppose We could call it the Infinite the backdrop of life, and yet the Infinite is greater than that. You are whirling in Infinity now.
The past is a snapshot of what your painting once looked like, or seemed to look like. The future is a guess. You are weaving the carpet of the present. Do not think that the present is only a moment. The present is not a still shot. You can’t really take a picture of the present which is, after all, the ever-present. The seeming present is too vast to catch with a lens.
We can call this exquisiteness of present time the ever-flowing stream you swim in, and yet the present is not really a stream or an ocean. We can compare what might be called the ocean of the present to a sweet kiss. Love may exist within a kiss, yet a kiss is not love. A kiss is just a kiss.
How can present time be spoken of when there is only timelessness? Of course, you do it all the time. Time seems to rule the roost. Non-existent time seems to be compressed or lengthened, but that perception comes from looking through Alice’s looking-glass, or Peter’s or Jane’s or yours.
If you did not have the sense of time you presently have, what would life seem like then? Would you not then become bigger than life, or life much bigger than it presently looks like to you? If time were not ever-present in your human awareness, what would life be like then?