Make Way for Angels

God said:

You are on a journey, one step after the other. You can see no further than the step you take now. You can, of course, look over your shoulder, but why? Is someone or something chasing after you, and are you fleeing? You need neither hold on tight to nor flee what's in back of you, but you can go forward. You can move ahead with exhilaration. You can leap from one tall building to another. You will land. Always you land, sometimes on your feet and sometimes on your bottom. In either case, you then get up and take another step, and yet another.

There are so many marvelous possibilities before you. Possibilities are possibilities because they are not certainties. Possibilities are open. Certainties are closed. Yet you crave certainty, even when, if you had it, you would soon tire of it. There is no need to be certain. Do not require it. You have only to be you wherever your foot steps next. And life has to be life no matter what it turns up, and you do not need to be agitated.

There is nothing that has to be anything but what it is.

Ah, how you would like to change life and have it abide by your rules. How aggrieved you might be then if you could really call the shots. What havoc there could be then. How might you then wish you had left life alone and not commandeered it.

The uncertainty of relative life gives you all the wondrous possibilities. It is even possible that today you soar. Today is enough. Today will offer you treasures, and tomorrow might take them away, and, so, life has its say, and yet your life is yours. Well, whose else's would your life be when your name is on it.

A whole lot of attention is put on dying. You and the world sometimes think of nothing else. There are whole industries surrounding the exit of life in the body. There are buildings built to house ill and dying bodies. There are funeral homes made for those who are newly dead, and later tombstones to top their remains. Sometimes the world doesn't know which is better or which is worse, living or dying, nor do you. Fear hovers around both living and dying. Let go of fear, beloveds, and make way for angels.

We can say that in life you are plowing a field. And one day you put the plow down.

We can say that in life, you ride a bicycle, and when you reach where you were going, you put your bike down.

We can say that, in life, you ride a train, and then there is a stop where you get off.

What can really happen in life or in death when there is no death? Nor is life the real story either. Fear is a detour, beloveds. Stay on the main road.

The luggage you carry is only luggage. Whatever the luggage appears to be, it is only luggage. A cardboard box or designer luggage can only carry possessions, and you carry the luggage. Without luggage, you can also traipse all over the world. Let your journey be a jaunt. Your whole lifetime is only a jaunt. It is not the most serious thing in the world, yet how seriously this little walk in the world is taken.

Your life is a walk in the woods. Your whole physical life is compressed into an afternoon, and you are let loose into Eternity where you have always been, and you are as free as a bird which is your natural state. You are free, beloveds. You are free to soar right now as I talk to you and pull you closer to My heart.

Read Comments

the main road

"Your life is a walk in the woods. Your whole physical life is compressed into an afternoon".
That is why I find it difficult to have desires, apart for the one to stroll merrily. To do that, we should be light, "without luggage". Instead, look at all kind of informations(?) we are submerged by. From the daily news to spiritual predictions, spiritual warnings, spiritual advices, spiritual reports, spiritual gadgets, spiritual forecasts, spiritual people. The "detours" are very crowded, the "main road" is indeed a solitary lane. You can easily take a detour along this stroll, or you choose the main road and soon you will realize that solitude is the sign of your approaching the Solitary One. Indeed very few.

Emilia your thinking delights me

You show much deep insight in what you write. Wow!

George

Certainty's Fate

Free as a bird, a natural state,
freedom is imagination's gate;
I've never considered certainty's fate,
certainty - imagination, opposite.........wait!

Looking for both, at the same time.
Like chasing my tail, a cat I do mime,
round and around and around do I go,
certainty certainly spinning not flow.

Is certainty's seeking perhaps in my way
of blossoms creative expressive display?
Poetry, rhyming and rhythm foray,
no certainty here, come out and lets play.

Play, mmmm, HeavenLetters say,
here is an example for you of play.
Don't you see Gloria's writting as fun?
Imagination open letting My sun

come out to play with you this day,
rules are from certain, not imagines way,
a walk in the wood, free as a bird,
let go in imagine, I give you My Word.

Carlann's got a grip on the zero point

Carlann, to play with words as you do is to take a hike in the great cloud of knowing!

So beautiful and to the point!

George

«Fear hovers around both living and dying.»

The mind is a system of belief, a very intense and a very real one. It can go as far, as an intelligent system, to create a version of itself that as the power to believe in itself, to rely exclusively on itself and to extinguish everything else around in order to see only itself. But it can only rely on certainty to achieve a viable sustainability. Thus it has to convert possibilities into certainties, into facts, then into theories and systems.

But mental certainties are only constructs against fear. And the mind cannot function without the combustible of fear because mind is a trickster. Paradoxically within the mind there exists a tiny mechanism or device that can liberate the mind from itself. This device resides in the own mental schemes of the mind. We could call this device a recursion button that has the capacity of ejecting the Mind out of itself. We could call it the enactment button or the reboot key to exit the recursion. We could also call this exit button "possibilities" which makes the mind exit from certainty, hence from recursion to endorse the possible.

The potentials or possibilites are new in the Present. It is like if we are from now on engaged in walking through a multidimensional hologram that contains All that can be as well as Nothingness. The past is not part of the new possibilities unless it retains possibilities that haven't been yet enacted.

We have to keep walking and, at the same time, free ourself from that walk. Because there is no more need to walk when the «I am what I am» is just nearby.

Norman pushed my "recursion button"

Pushing the recursion button gives me a nifty walk in the park of all possibilities. Wonderful

George

"IS" says it all

"There is nothing that has to be anything but what it is."

Train ride, bus ride or walk in the park, it all teaches us about being.

Somehow "death" becomes the transfer to "another" line. Sort of bewildering but exciting non- the-less. The Conductor is something else!

George

The syndrom of the white page.

We now have to start a new line on a blank new page. The future is ours to write down. Bewildering but exciting non-the-less.

Norman knows

What fun to do this kind of travel! I'll hop on the "blank new page express" right now!

George

Make way for Angels

Dearest MAESTRO, GOD-CREATOR, Sometimes you even outdo YOURSELF.!!!! DON'T YOU!!!!
THIS HEAVEN LETTER IS THE MOST EXQUISITE YET! WE ARE DROWNING IN YOUR
LOVING WORDS HERE!

Your signing off words "YOU ARE FREE TO SOAR RIGHT NOW AS I TALK TO YOU
AND PULL YOU CLOSER TO MY HEART!!

Ahhhh! That does sound like Heaven!!!!

Mary Moon has magic in her words

Mary moon you play for us a merry tune. My heart cries whoopee when I read your love filled words.

George

1 Heavenletter Haiku for

1 Heavenletter Haiku for you

Hello Friends,

God said life gives you
Wondrous possibilities
Wherever it turns

Love, Light and Aloha!

"You are free to soar right

"You are free to soar right now as I talk to you and pull you closer to My heart."

Thank You Father.
Berit

 

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