By Your Very Climbing of Mountains
Wake up, sleepyhead. Nothing is as it seems. Nothing is as you thought. There is a whole new day dawning. You are dawning it. The world goes nowhere without you. The world offers you its compliance. And yet you may have missed out on seeing this beautiful non-event in all its glory.
You may be waiting for this or that, and, yet, it is yourself you wait for. You are waiting for yourself to wake up. You may think you are waiting for the world to wake up and get going, yet, all the while, the world is a tributary of you.
By your very climbing of mountains, you honor them. Your feet fall on the mountains, and so the mountains know their magnificence. They know it through you. You are the breath and breadth of the mountains. You inhale and exhale the mountains. Therefore, they exist. They exist for you to climb on, just as the woods exist for you to run through and the oceans exist for you to swim through and sail on. All the while, life on Earth is a twist of your wrist.
Everything exists for you, and you exist for it. You are in tandem. Unbeknownst to you, you are in tandem with the Whole Universe. You are the making of it. The world is the mirror you hold up. It is your mirror. Your very breath forms a mist on the mirror. The mist surrounding the mountains is veritably you.
You, My beloveds, paint on the Universe every day. You make expressions on people's faces. It is as if you draw moustaches on the faces of some, and shave the others, or add becoming make-up. You throw confetti up in the sky. You do make up the Universe that is made for you, just as you are made for it. You make the world go round.
Who can tell the difference between anything? What aspect of you do the mountains reveal? Whatever you discover at the top of the mountain, you can be sure it is yourself you discover. You may think the mountain has surrendered to you, yet it is you who has surrendered to the mountain.
You are, indeed, part of every leaf that blows. You are the breeze from the trees, and you are the one who looks at trees near and far with wonderment.
This same wonderment is how I look at you! What wonder did I make when I made you! How could I invent so many intricacies, and, yet, even so, you make and remake yourself. Even when you lag, you are in process of great revealment. You are, indeed, a self-made man or woman. And yet you did not make yourself in one fell swoop. You are making yourself now.
You were always Mine, you understand, and now you pursue this making of you Mine. The search is on. You are like the bumblebee that buzzes. You are like the butterfly that alights on My nose. Seemingly, you fly inside and outside Me. I am real, yet the existence of Me outside you is not possible. You imagine it is. You imagine very well. Meanwhile, We inhale and exhale Each Other even when there is superbly only One of Us.
Let Us be straight with each other. We are here for love. I created you for this, and you create yourself anew every day for this. We are on the same page. We do see alike. We are Oneness transforming our One Self into Oneness, into the recognition of Oneness. We can say it is for the sake of Oneness that I exist and the supposed you exists. The wonderful thing is that We exist in every beating heart.
Allness becomes Oneness. Allness mounts the steed of Our One Self, My One Self alone.
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