Everything has been set into motion. The world turns. The waves tide. Like atoms, you who spin are consummate stillness and seemingly never still on Earth. You keep sliding into the course of your life. You meet your life. You climb the hill of your life, and you tumble down it. You pick yourself up. You keep exploring the slide of your life. You who explore life and find more striations of life laid out like pick-up sticks, and so you assemble the sticks and convert them into your life. You make something of it. Some explore north, and some explore south, and some explore Earth more than they explore Heaven, and yet all explore Heaven. There is an irresistible attraction. Scoff at Heaven all you want, you want it, and you want it to be yours. This is your walk in life.
The messages have been sent. You sent them, and you receive them. It is as though you have never seen them before, and yet these are the messages you sent. You do not remember them, and yet you recall them to you. Life is a mile a minute, and you can’t keep up with non-existent time.
Your life is a letter you write to yourself. You wrote it long ago. You sent out feelers. You imagined. You imagined smallness. Your imagination was great. You didn’t have to imagine your Greatness because that was true. Nevertheless, you planted berry bushes in your mind, and now you the berries pick. All is as you wrote it to be. You are sure you would never write such a story, yet your story came from your pen. It is in your handwriting.
The messages have been sent, and you sent them. You meet yourself at every turn, yet you do not recognize yourself. The True You does not quite coincide with the dramatic actor who plays out a hasty version of your life. Your life feels something like a taffy pull. You may not have pulled out the shape of taffy you would have liked to. Even though another shape has been drawn, the pulled taffy has an angel standing behind it. That is you.
In for an inch, in for a mile. And so you play your hand at life, and yet you watch from the sidelines. You see your life walking in front of you. It circles you. You can’t reconcile yourself with your actions and the way you walk.
Right now you are raising yourself to your true height. Right now you are not willing to settle for less. Right now you are determined to be more than the role you have been playing and once believed yourself to be. Right now you crave to play your Real Self and not this character whose shoes you have stepped into. Right now you wish to step out of the costume you donned. Pure Self is good enough for you now. You know the part you play is a part you play. You know the role you play is fantasy, even though you don’t know how you stepped into the shoes you wear.
Today you can reveal yourself as the butterfly you are. Will the Real You stand up? The Real You was set in motion long before the play started, and now you can let go of all the stories you have been telling.
You, who were always a princeling, now reveal yourself as the King. You never were the stories you made up. You never really believed in the stories, and yet you perpetuated them. Once you rode on a merry-go-round, and now you get off, and now you begin where you started.