There is no determinant of you. That means there is no limit set on you. In terms of the limitless, of course, how can there be limit? You are irrevocably an unlimited being of light. You do not know the heights you can reach. You can rise anywhere. All you have to do is lift your finger.
A bird does not cause its flight. It merely flaps its wings. And so, that is how you soar. You do the tiny things you are capable of and amenable to, and then you see your feet are off the ground, and you are flying. Before you know it, you are in the air, as light as a breeze.
Yet you are lighter than air. Air cannot travel so fast as you. Air is slow-moving compared to you.
In a trice, one thought of yours can move you anywhere.
Your thoughts can be grouped. There are thoughts that pull you down. There are thoughts that keep you where you are. There are thoughts that lift you. Why would anyone choose any thoughts but ones that lift?
Consider the world a parachute, and you are the holder of that parachute. You are the one who can open it and raise it high. Or you can not open it. Or you can poke holes in its silk so the noble parachute is of no or little use for anyone. Yet many hands are opening the parachute right now and holding it for others.
Your hands are. Your heart is. You are next in line. That means you are at the head of the line. No one in the world is more propitious than you.
If the parachute of the world is too heavy for you to carry, consider then that you carry a little twirling parasol. The light shines through it. It tells you the sun is shining. Your parasol makes others happy.
Or consider that it rains, and you open an umbrella. The rain pelts the umbrella, and yet you are dry. Now imagine that your umbrella encompasses the world. The world is under your protectorate.
Your umbrella is like the polestar upon which the stars and planets spin.
You are the one who rotates the earth and all on it.
You are the spinner.
You are the spindle that spins.
And you are the weaver, and you are the cloth woven. And you are the one who holds up the cloth and admires it. And still you are a stitch in the cloth, deep within it.
The woven cloth is much more than the cloth it presents itself as. It is light woven on a loom, light turned in certain directions and lengths to form a beautiful pattern of light and color and texture named cloth. And so you spin the universe. The universe comes from stillness, but it never stays still.
And you who are the weaver are in motion. Never have you been stationary. Try as you may, you cannot stay still. You are on a moving platform of the universe. Wherever it is that you may think you are, you are elsewhere. Perhaps your feet did not move, but you were moved. Life in the world is motion. Choose your direction, and you are arrived. Unchosen, you are propelled along anyway.
As you go, so goes the world. You are a factor.
Perhaps you have been told to hang on. To hang on is not enough for you. That is not good enough for you. You are not a hanger-on. You are a chooser of heights.
That you are the light of the world means that you are the lifter of it.