You are lightness itself. You are the lightness of My heart, beloveds. Before the illusion of time was introduced, I pondered what would give Me joy, and you arose in My heart. I asked, and I answered. My heart desired, and desire was. Love came out to behold itself in a dance. Love held hands with itself, swung around, made music, stomped its feet to the beat of itself. From My heart, you burst in joy. My heart blossomed into you before flowers were. Creation created itself from desire before the concept was. There was nothing to conceive of and no one to conceive it. There was light alone, and light burst within itself. Flame ignited flame. From light burst forth light. Where could light fall but on what would be named creation? What would light make of itself? What would light see?

It saw you. You entered stage right. You didn’t know where you were nor how you got there. Surprise was born. You clapped your hands. You saw the audience and clapped for them. You saw yourself in the audience watching yourself on stage. Only clapping could be heard. Only clapping was.

You became an acrobat on stage. You ran from one end of the stage to another. Someone cried out, “Action. Cameras! Music!” It was you, or was it I? I do not make a distinction except in conversation.

Running from one end of the stage to the other, you fabricated a range of emotions and moods. You made up things. You were imaginative and capricious.

From recollection of Oneness, you made up myths, so, of course, there was Truth in them hidden. You have never been able to escape Truth. You pretended to look for it while you averted your eyes. But you could not belie Truth. Wherever you stood, stood I.

Beloveds, I am not conscience. That is your own last-minute invention. You made it up as a marker, perhaps a divider between punishment and joy. Joy waved its arms dramatically, and you didn’t see. You heard conscience instead. Conscience told you lies, You believed them. You told them to yourself. You claimed them. You glommed onto whatever could make you feel bad. Hitting your foot with a hammer, you called lack of reproach joy. Great joy danced back and forth before you, waving a fan, and you thought she was not for you.

Beloveds, you have misread the world. That is to say, perhaps, your role in the play. Of course, you can withdraw from one stage and enter another. You can give up one role for another. You are only playing a role of your choice on a stage you happen to find yourself on. You can come out front to another stage with Me.

On this new stage, let’s play you are holy. Now, come, come to believe Holiness instead of all the other things you have come to believe. Now you are not acting. You have stumbled on the Truth. Despite all the theatrics, you are Holiness itself.

I do not speak of potential. I speak of Reality. Your potential is realized. You did not read the big print. You followed wayward cues. You thought they were meant for you. They were just lost thoughts from somewhere that you adopted. You called them your own, and became fond of this inverted picture of yourself. You saw this as your Humanness.

Now catch on to your Divinity. Whose is it if not yours? And Mine. Yes, of course, and Mine.