I hear you crying out to Me:

“God, You are God. I am in Your company. I am embraced by You. I feel Your love. It soaks into me. Your love overflows and changes me. You rescued me, God. You have saved me time and time again from my ego. It isn’t that You destroy ego. You simply set my attention on another track. Ego is obviated. I am oblivious of it. Ego? Who? What? I forget about ego for a while. Maybe this is what happiness is – absence of ego.

“My world isn’t quite so centered around me any longer, and yet, and, yet, most of my thoughts are about how I feel and what is going on in my life. Whom will I see today? What will I write? To whom will I write? Who will answer? Who will answer my heart?

“I am preoccupied with thoughts, as if I need more thoughts in my head, and, therefore, more thoughts to forget, yet thoughts rise to the surface whether I want them or not. Recurring thoughts take over. They swallow me up. Are they my thoughts or not? I am not sure. I am not sure whose thoughts run around in my head. I don’t want to claim all of them. Is my mind mine anyways, or is my mind something I found somewhere and picked up thoughtlessly?
 
“I yearn for the day when I am so full of Being that there is no room for squandered thoughts. I would not be blank. I would be enriched, yet wouldn’t have to eat. I will love and be nourished by love and reach the heights of travel with You, God.

“You say that You exist within me. I know you are somewhere within me, yet I can only stutter when it comes to thinking that You are the essence of me, although there are moments when I feel You and I are One, and I almost believe it.

“Meanwhile, I feel that You are more like a casual visitor Who drops in every once in a while. You pull up a chair, and all I have to do is to look at You.

“Is every conversation a conversation with myself? Am I the speaker and the listener combined as Oneness? This can’t be Oneness because Oneness is scintillating. Is all that goes on in life a projection of myself? Am I witness to myself? I witness myself zooming here or there. I see myself wandering in a desert, and I see myself shivering in Siberia, and I see myself in an oasis, and still I don’t know who I am and what I am doing here, or if I am here, or what here is or what is going on in that vague place called here.

“You say there is no beginning or ending to me, that I always was, that I always am while I don’t really know if I am or if I am not. I relate to Hamlet. Not so much To be or not to be. More like: Am I or am I not? Who am I and where am I, and for what purpose am I? Perhaps my purpose is to find that I don’t even exist. I may be consumed by existence, yet am I solely a reverberation of You, God?

“I am no more than a wave in the breeze. A hand waves, and what does that mean when the next moment the hand stops waving? Where did that wave in the breeze go? Does that wave in the breeze still exist somewhere?

“I wonder if my search for existence comes down to a search for non-existence. Not death, but to never have existed as this personality ever.

“You have said that this whole existence on Earth in a body is fiction. Is it, God, is this whole revelation on Earth, all this that is so important and vital to Your children, is it, is it really after all is said and done only a story?”

Yes.