You were not invented. You were created. You were created with My full awareness. You blossomed before My very eyes. How beautiful is My creation. I created a beautiful Earth, and I created a beautiful you to play on it. It may not seem like it, yet Earth is all about play. How seriously the play is taken. How real-seeming the stakes. How you hold on to them. How desperate you are about your goals. Nevertheless, your outcome is secured, for you return to Me in a trice.

Life is not about all that you think it is about. All does not depend upon what you think it depends on. The little skirmishes are an aside. You have had a fantasy from which you will wake up. Wake up now.

Life has been life or death for you. It has held such significance for you. Of such importance was the game you played, the spelling test you took, the scraping your knee, what your mother thought, what your father did for a living, and how you configured the world. All these are naught. They fade.

There are no storms, and yet you hold on to storms. There is no success, and there is no failure. The world ascribes validity to success or less success, yet every play in the game is what it is, and, therefore successful. Life is not about all that you have thought it is about. How sad you are to find out that you followed incorrect rules. It is the game that counts, not the individual plays.

It is like your life is a collage, a collage of people and memories, and how exquisite your collage is. What a work of art. How intricately everything fits. How remarkably. How individual each play, and, at the same time, how universal. Magnificent are the stitches you make on this mural of life you contribute to. You believe in outcomes.

There is one outcome. You come to Me. That is the denouement. The scorecards are a disguise yet a disguise well-believed in. You are a player in a fantasy. You are a player upon whom Truth dawns. How seriously you have taken life. What a drama you have laid out before you. And it all, all of it, is a mirage that you have sworn is true. You drank the water, you bathed in it. How real-seeming the physical world is and all your deportment on it. How close the day-to-day details. How far away the Truth. You take the world as real, and the Truth you put aside for another day. There is no tragedy, beloveds. There is a dance of life, and sometimes this dance becomes hurly-burly. You get caught up in it. You don't know how to step out of it.

You have a great foundation, and often overlook it. The three little pigs in the story used brick, wood, and straw. The big bad wolf blew them all down except for the brick, yet, even the brick does not last forever, nor is it meant to. Heart and soul live forever. Place your bets.

That which is lasting lasts. That which is temporary is temporary and does not last. You are not temporary. You are forever. Your life now is one scene in the play. The play itself is long-lasting. It is eternal. You are the fruit of My vine. You are the crop that is grown in the fields of Earth, and you grow and you return to Heaven as you grow to awareness of Who you are and Where you are even when you believe you are somewhere else. Even when you believe you are somewhere else, even while you are on another stage center front, you are in Heaven.