Whither thou goest, I go. We are reciprocal, beloveds. I know you don't believe this, yet there is nowhere you go where I am not. There is nowhere you are where I am not. And wherever I AM, you are. This is Our Oneness that you cannot yet quite fathom. You can almost fathom it sometimes. It is very hard for you to fathom indeed. From where you sit, Our Oneness is fathomless.

God is One. There is God. There is Godness. One Godness, not A Godness. There is Godness, and you are the essence of Godness. You are the essence of all that is, and so am I. You are the rays of My light shining from My heart.

We climb hill and dale together. We climb the clouds, and We lasso the sun. We take its molten gold. We are the molten gold. We ride off on the whiteness of the moon. The moon might as well be cheese or a draught We drink or a horse We ride on. A sense of the Universe is not common, beloveds. The sense of which I speak is uncommon. It is an embrace of life with no holding back, only leaping forward as We stay in place, everywhere and nowhere.

Life is not at all what you have thought, if you have thought. Life is much more than what is before you. It is much much more than what is behind you. Life is a totality that cannot be described nor defined in ordinary ways. Of course, life has been explained in ordinary ways, yet there is nothing ordinary about life even when life, no matter where or when, is the medium you live in. Life and love are two interchangeable words, beloveds. You may not like to interchange them, and yet they are one and the same, just as We are One and the Same.

We climb hill and dale even as there are no hills and dales. All the mountains are really one step. Not even a step, for there are no mountains, and there is only the One of you and Me, which is to say that We meet in the middle, as it were, and therefore are One. One magnificence. One wonder. One Love, seemingly bouncing here and there.

And yet in the world, you must wrap yourself up in life called ordinary. You work. Things have to be done, and someone has to do them. Life is not idle. It is a production. It is perceived as a drama. There is a cast of characters, and there are sets and props, and there is a beginning, middle, and end. This is the clay of relative life. This is the medium you work and play in.

You play the housemaid with a feather wand, and you dust prettily. You play the breadwinner. You play the cook, and you play the diner. In truth, you play all the parts. As you recognize them, you play them. You watch yourself on stage, and, as you watch, part of you knows that the whole drama on the stage has nothing to do with you. It doesn't really have to do with anything. And yet the drama portrayed is important to you. It is seemingly most important to you. Seemingly you are driven by it. You giddyap the drama, and the drama giddyaps you. Even so, it is all made up, for real life goes on behind the scenes where it looks quite different.