What Shall I Do with You Today?

God said:

You can never lose Being. Nothing is clearer or more encompassing than Being. Being is the basis upon which everything else arises and displays itself, and the clear light of Being outshines everything else. All the line drawings, all the etchings, all the marks that seem to alight on Being are nothing but doodles, imaginatively or unimaginatively drawn for a moment on the amazing energizing basis of all. Yet nothing — nothing — can touch your bountiful Being. Nothing can darken it, stain it, scratch it. At most an erasable crayon goes across it. The marks the crayon leaves fade immediately as they are drawn and disappear altogether before the crayon reaches the edge of the paper.

So goes your life. All the scratches on it are illusory. All the drama is only drama. The stage of Being is untouched. Whatever scenes jump onto the surface of your life, they are only scenes pasted there on immovable scenery, pasted for only a moment, and then dispelled, trotting off into the oblivion from which they came, as if they never were. That is true — they never were. They were just imagined peripatetic impossible impulses of your mind that sped across your Being but couldn't touch it and never did. The Life you have seen is impossible.

Nothing can brighten your Being any more than anything can dull it. The brightest rays cannot make your Being brighter. Your Being is as bright as bright can be. It is sparkling clear. Nothing can mar it. Not even the dramatic life you see portrayed across it makes a dent. Not all the up's and down's. Not even gashes across the field of Being can leave a mark or the tiniest scratch. No evidence is left. There is nothing to dispute nor subtract even one infinitesimal ray of the glorious clarity of your Being.

Your Being, which, of course, is Mine, is immutable. Our true magnificent Being cannot be disturbed. It can never boil over or evaporate even the tiniest infinitesimal amount. God-given Being is immaculate. Indestructible, it is ever the same regardless of the perambulations scanned on it.

What is scanned in your life is not your Being. All that you see before you is not your Being. Your Being, seemingly invisible, is so bright that you don't see it. You let everything else drown it out, but Being cannot be drowned nor overtaken. Nothing can be seen next to it, and yet you see a phantasmagoria and don't see the bright light. You don't see the bright life that is yours. Your life occurs on a bright light spread before you. Seemingly, the bright light has blinded you. You have taken what your closed eyes flickered over as the God's truth. The truth is that your eyes have evaded the bright light. If there were not bright light, your eyes could not emphasize the imaginary lines and shadows that they do.

What shall I do with you today? I think I will spin you around a little, and then ask you to open your eyes and see what you see and see where you are and see Who is with you. Even a little peek will do for now. Now I spin you, and now you peek, and now you find joy, and now you smile to think that you ever thought there was anything else.

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Now I spin you

All the line drawings, all the etchings, all the marks that seem to alight on Being are nothing but doodles, imaginatively or unimaginatively drawn for a moment on the amazing energizing basis of all. Yet nothing — nothing — can touch your bountiful Being. Nothing can darken it, stain it, scratch it. At most an erasable crayon goes across it. The marks the crayon leaves fade immediately as they are drawn and disappear altogether before the crayon reaches the edge of the paper.