Dear Gloria,
I wonder whether "illustrious" in the following sentence is correct or should read "illusory".
strong>The ground slips away from you, and illustrious time beats you to Life.
Thanks.
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This will pass. Whatever it is, this is the truth in the world. The world is passing right before your eyes. This is how it is.
Procrastination is passing right now. Can procrastination last forever? What is happening is that your world is being turned upside down. It is like you have been thrown up into the air, and you haven’t quite landed yet. What does this mean? It means you are losing boundaries. You are becoming unbounded. You are gaining unboundedness. You are in the middle or muddle of freedom.
Sometimes you would avidly like to clutch to old times and old ways. You feel pledged to people of the past and to people of the present and to a way of life named Future. You have long wanted to get out of confinement, yet, suddenly, freedom does not feel so wonderful as you thought it would. Where do you rest your head? Where are all the seeming possessions and props that, yes, got in your way, yet were comforting to add up. And the people of the past who are no longer evident? You long for them. How you long for them.
The people of the past are lined up like paper cut-outs attached one to the other. There is no end. And I tell you also that there is no beginning. Infinity just is. It is like a choo-choo train you see from an angle. Life seems to pass before you, and, yet, life, without form, amounts to invisible atoms and molecules. Invisible spark plugs are moving. Yes, I suppose We can say that Light moves. It certainly sparkles. Hey, you, all you atoms and molecules out there, dazzle the world.
From where did you come, My children made of atoms, and to where do you go, when there is no place to enter and no place to exit? There is no furniture to move. There is a build-up of stress to disperse. There is illusion to snip at and Reality to rise up in its stead.
Who are you, and what are you when you are not illusion to be alluded to?
You used to think you had a handle on life. Now you feel you are floating down an elevator shaft or floating up an elevator shaft or sliding around, buoyed up in a beautiful blue sky. You are floating in the Universe. You expect to land, yet there is no seeming landing pad. You are free-falling. You will bounce up again, for your freedom is unassailable. Freedom is not a liability. Welcome it.
You have desired your freedom, and I have also yearned for your freedom. Freedom has always been here for you. You thought freedom was unavailable. You thought you could have it only in some far-off kingdom, some day in faraway Infinity, but no, you never thought you could have freedom now. Freedom cannot be held in your hand, or it would not be freedom. Most likely in the past, you put life off. You postponed it. There was always another day. And so you added Life to your list for some day when you could get around to it. The ground slips away from you, and illustrious time beats you to Life.
What High Sea are you sailing on? Oh, this feature of time in the world, how arrogant it is. Time puts you on an assembly line, and you seemingly pop out of an automat with your goose already cooked.
What? Can life be more than a sandwich to eat or skip depending upon – what? – your mood? If there is no time, how can there be moods? If there is no time, how can there be a waste of it? How can you catch up to time if it doesn’t exist or get away from it, and how can you be caught up in it?
What matters matter? What matters any thing? What can be hit or miss or anything at all, and how can something not be when it seems to be right in your face? What is topsy-turvy and what is right-side-up when dimensions of space do not exist any more than space itself does?
Nevertheless, you are spinning in a spinning Universe, yet you don’t move at all. At the same time, you can’t be immovable, for your heart is moved. It can be said that your heart is moved or unmoved. When your beautiful heart is not moved, you feel far away from it. What is a body to do when the physical doesn’t exist except in the Story of the World?