In stillness, you move. You are stillness that moves in stillness. All there is is stillness.

We can say that all the movement, all the agitation, all the stories are imagination exploring itself. Only the stillness is real.

We can say that stillness is the moment before a note is played. Movement is a presumed echoed chord, heard but not really played. Played only in imagination. Played only in the mind. Entered into by many. Entered into by so many that the truth is put aside. So distracted are you.

You hear the hovering nonexistent chord more than the true note you carry. That is the sadness in life. Hearing and listening soundly to that which is imagined. That is the sadness, for your deepest heart knows better. The heart that does not listen to itself feels sad. It listens to some far-off note and doesn't hear the music of itself. All the while, your heart knows it has gotten off track, and yet it keeps on according to the imagination of the world.

Your heart knows that life as you experience it is froth, a little dance of the winds. Even wind arises from stillness. Even at the center of hurricanes lies stillness.

When you become still, you know you are greater than the universe you stand on. In truth, it stands on you. The universe resides in you, and you are the holder of it. You carry the universe around.

You, who are the eternal note of creation, forfeit joy for pleasure that turns out to be displeasure. You keep looking for something. You upturn the world looking for it. You won't find it there. No matter how you try, how far you look, you won't find it outside you. You continue pursuing illusion, pretending you don't know its infidelity to truth. What is it that you try to pursue? What do you think it will bring you? What are the supposed rewards?

You could burn them all up in a bonfire. What you really seek is that which does not burn.

Yet you have thought that life is an occasion for dismay, that hardship has been imposed upon you. Yet it is you who flails your arms in a desert when the sea is right there beside you. Such is the folly of human life.

Where you look changes everything. This is not pie in the sky I give you. This is solid advice from One Who loves you above all.

You have been looking amiss. You have been caught up in something. A net of your own making. You run holding it, and it trips you. What are you looking at? What are you looking for? Why do you want it? What do you think it will do for you? Whatever you amass, it is more of nothing amassed. Collectibles are only collectibles. They are not sufficient in life. Are you looking for medals, prizes, endorsements, accolades, due reward? You look in vain for they do not exist.

It is not that you collect hearts either, for hearts are not collectibles. The concept of collecting or gaining or keeping is fraudulent. And hearts are true.

What is a heart anyway? What is this human beating heart? What is its metronome, and how is it set? It cannot keep time, for hearts are timeless. Time is another thing you try to keep that does not exist.

What is left? What does exist?

Only love. It is your own heart that you want to discover so that you may set it free. Fill your heart by emptying it. Pour it out. Love is self-perpetuating. It propagates itself. Free your heart. Dislodge it. Let it hear its own stillness.