"My Father's house has many mansions" means there are dimensions you do not remember visiting. I use the word "dimension", but that does not say accurately what I mean to say. There is no word for what I want to say.
It is like — only like — you have a house with a third floor you are not aware of or have forgotten (not aware of and forgotten are the same) — and then suddenly you open a forgotten door (you have an insight) and there are the stairs, and there are the other rooms, treasures there all the time, but hidden from your view. They can only be hidden temporarily.
And after you visit this third floor and know it, when some spark goes off in you and you decide to be open to it, you will find another door and another floor and other rooms, and that is how you find infinity. Infinity is many mansions. Infinity is one brick after another. Infinity is many doors opening.
You have to be open to the doors, and then they open to you.
If you are convinced that your home is finite and that you know all the periphery of it like the palm of your hand, then you imprison yourself. You don't need to. There is no benefit. Small spaces are not safer than big ones.
Look, you are on your journey. You cannot get off. Sure, you can stay holed up somewhere, but sooner or later you have to move on. You cannot stay in one space forever. In truth, there is no hide-out. There is no standstill. When you resist moving, then something moves you. Quicksand is suddenly under your feet, or the earth quakes, or suddenly for no known reason, you walk out from where you have been. You know not where you are walking towards, but you become a conscious journeyer again, and are on your way.
You were always on your way. And you can only stop for a time. You who are changeless, as changeless as I, have to move in the relative world and find other digs. Your consciousness cannot stay the same without being squeezed.
You change, and your outside changes. The outside always catches up to you.
Yet one could live in the same physical house all his life, and keep moving. One could lie in the same bed unmoving, and still move. It is not the physical we are talking about here. It is you.
You must be like a weed that grows no matter what. It finds its growing place. It must sprout. It must reach the sun. It must go beyond its boundaries. The fertile weed does not acknowledge boundaries. It just knows where it must go. It does not deny obstacles. It just pays them no mind, for even a weed knows that the reality is the sun and that the obstacles to the sun are not.
The weed hears the sun calling to it. Therefore, the weed must go to the sun.
The sun is like an Indian snake charmer to the weed. The weed is charmed, and it grows to the sun who calls it to him. A simple weed knows its inevitability, and it shoulders its way to the voice it hears.
Hear My voice. Hear Me calling to you. Weave your way up to Me. Just bend in My direction, and My flute song will bring you to Me.
Even smoke wends its way upward. Weeds and smoke know their purpose more than you do. If they can rise to the high sun, surely you can. All you have to do is to stop keeping yourself down. Just rise. Arise. Take the first step which is just to get up.
You are going in the direction of the Sun on high. Notice how, when you lift your face to the Sun, the Sun follows you as well. The Sun attracts you because it is attracted to you. It tracks you. It calls you. It finds you. And then one day, you notice that the Sun has found you. Its light was on you, and you finally looked up and saw the Sun there, waiting for you to see it. While the Sun was waiting for you, it was waiting on you all the while.
The Sun is your servant.
I am your servant.
I am a willing servant.
My joy is to serve. I know no other.
I know My joy when you reach Me.
I reach out to you.
Now reach up to Me.