What is in front of you is in front of you. You are before it. Life is always imminent. It is spread out before you. You enter the stage, and you say your lines, and tomorrow you start again.
Life is nothing but your thoughts, beloveds. You live your life in your mind. Your impressions run your life. They make it up.
You remember the past because of your thoughts, and your thoughts say the past existed, and yet it is all dream. Life exists only in your thoughts.
Letting go of the past isn’t altogether letting go of your memories. It isn’t so much the forgetting of them. It is forgetting their hold on you. It is remembering that the so-called past is nothing but a dream. Did you make it up? Where does the past exist now if not in your mind? Where did it exist then?
You had a childhood with mother and father and brothers and sisters. Where does that compilation of moments exist now? It didn’t exist then anymore than it exists now.
The hold of the past is as much fantasy as your daydreams of the future. Your daydreams may come to pass, yet they are still fantasies. All of the relative life is made of fantasy.
That which is not Truth is fantasy. Truth lasts. It doesn’t change. Fantasy changes. Fantasy is a fact of life, but it is not Truth. Fantasy is a presentation of life. It is the drama.
Even when you go to the theatre, where does the drama exist? You see it before you. You may laugh or cry, and then you applaud, and then you leave the theatre. What was the play really? What was it? Did it exist then? Does it exist now? Can it ever exist again? Even when you replay it in your mind, does it exist any more or less when it never existed at all?
This is not to say that your imagined experience in life is without purpose. Not at all. It leads you. It leads your mind to new pastures and new discoveries of illusion and eventually to Truth. This life you lead meanwhile is a magic trick, and yet it is one believed in deeply.
You find yourself walking a road with others beside you who are walking the same road. You all have different gaits, and you jump over stones or you trip over them, and yet this whole scenario of life doesn’t exist. The stones that you think are real and that you can kick are props, beloveds. All this physical life is an act in a play. All of it. All that you hold most dear, and all that you do not hold dear at all.
Life is a fantasy moving before your very eyes. You are entranced in life. You think it is real. You think it is very real, and yet it is all a movie flashing before your eyes. You are not stuck on Earth, yet you are glued to it.
Your thoughts are the glue. Your thoughts are pasted across the universe. You make pictures, and they are hung up across the universe like clouds for all to see.
What is the universe then? It is a common thought.
What is Heaven then? It is a less common thought. It is a designated place describing Truth. It is like a poem of Truth. And where does Truth exist? The Truth I speak of exists independent of your mind, and yet it also exists there. Truth beats in the pulse of My heart, and yet you know heart is a metaphor for love, and that love and union are all that exist whether thought of or not.