There is no need to puzzle over life. No need to investigate. No need to figure out how or why something happened. No need to discern and pronounce what did happen. Never mind the logical determinations. If you must discover, discover that which moves your heart to greater heights. Move into the arena of appreciation. Move into what is beautiful. Move into what touches your heart and not so much the logistics of your mind.
Turn toward that which is favorably beyond explanation. This is where your attention wants to go. Who would even try to explain beauty? All you can say is that it's beautiful. Your heart resounds. Your heart knows beauty when it sees it. That's enough.
Beauty is a portrayal of love. All of nature is that. Come now, you must even admire the brave dandelion in its yellow splendor, turning into a white puff you can blow to the ends of the Earth. With all of creation, you can say, "What wonders has God performed?"
All art tries to reproduce the beauty that I have created. There is a need to paint a rose and a colorful sky or the bend of a leg and the curve of an arm. There is need to weave a cloth of the strands of life. There is a need to make music that emulates the cries of joy that your heart makes. With every move of your hands, you are braiding life. That which stirs your heart is what you want to give. There is a need for your heart to be exalted, for that is its true nature.
That which lies within the heart is greater than the heart itself. The physical heart is an object that not many would consider beautiful. But, oh, the beauty of what the heart contains! What a dance it creates! What splendor! The heart's beauty finds its image wherever it looks. It looks for itself.
The next face you see, see its beauty. I am not speaking of handsomeness but of beauty. Take a photograph of the next face you see with your heart. There will be no rough edges. When you see with your heart, wherever you look lies beauty. It cannot be otherwise. What in this universe of earthly love is not beautiful? The onion is beautiful. It is a metaphor for life, how it is put together. How beautiful is the artistry of an onion.
Who but I would have thought of an onion? Or a watermelon? Or a rock? Or a mountain? Or a sea? Who would have thought of brightness of eyes and the movement of the skin around them? Who would have thought of skin? Who would have thought of fingernails? Who would have thought of sounds? Who would have thought of day and night? Or the sun and the moon and the stars of delight?
Which star are you, beloved?
Which stroke of My brush are you?
Where do you dwell, and from where did you come?
What does your heart say? Take your greatest imaginings, and know that they do not begin to reach the Truth of you. There can be no exaggeration when it comes to you. You have barely touched the surface when it comes to you. You are far greater than you thought, if you thought at all.
No more than the fish in an ocean, do you know where you dwell. The fish does not say, "I swim in an ocean of God."
Nor do you acknowledge where you abide. You do not say: "I abide in a creation of God currently named Earth. I abide in the air God breathes. I abide in His heart and the love He created. He fashioned me from clay. I am the pottery He made, and yet I am by no means put on a shelf. He put me in the oven of life to bake and to evolve to My true colors. I am in the warmth of God's heart now, and so I reflect, and so I become."
You do not say. You simply abide.