Beloveds, there is perfection in the world, and the perfection is love, the love that just is without fanfare, the love that fulfills your heart. It is just there. It isn't a big promotion. It's just quietly there. It always is. There is never a minute that it is not.

Yet this perfection is not often seen by the naked eye. Instead, confusion takes the spotlight. What does an experience mean, you wonder. How did this happen, you wonder. What a mess of confusion everything is, you feel.

Sometimes it is hard to see right side up.

You have often thought that confusion was a condition of life to strongly object to. But now you can let confusion take its course, and wring from it all it gives. Without confusion, how would you reach clear thinking?

Consider confusion like a pile of socks that you are to sort. Without a multitude of socks, how could you sort? And when you find you have an odd sock or two, you keep them for a while but you do not spend your life bemoaning that which you cannot find the mate to.