Within each heart on Earth am I. That’s it. This is what Life is. It is all My Self, yet you may well believe that you are someone else when All of Life is all about Me, the One of Us. You reflect Me in a fantasy you play at, this Make-Believe you like to think you are deeply into.

It’s like you play a piano that doesn’t exist, and yet you imagine that music comes from this piano that does not exist. You see the piano. Your fingers move over the made-up keys. Layers and layers of notes resound and continue to resound in the world, yet never in actuality is this piano to be seen or to be found. How bizarre.

Actually, you are a way-out Teller of tales and Believer in tales. You beat the author of Sherlock Holmes as a writer of mysteries. You are quite a Story-Maker and Storyteller. In your Life Story, you surpass the greatest poets, playwrights, novelists. The extent of your imagination cannot be imagined. You exceed in the Storytelling Arts.

You are a magician who performs his magic tricks, only you have hypnotized yourself into believing that your magic is not a trick but the stuff of which Life itself is made. The fact is that you don’t know Truth from fiction. You believe that what you see is what you get. This theory goes only so far as you can see and does not reach all the way to Truth.

Somehow you wander down the Aisles of Life, preferring to see ups and downs and even terrors of all kinds. You invent new inventions and practices and new illnesses and restrictions too. Leave it to you or someone who is called you.

You make up laws and business practices designed for profit, as if individual profit were the Foundation of Life, as if getting ahead were your main purpose. If not getting ahead, then perhaps it is your purpose to escape Life one way or another as best you can.

Or, as if you have all the rights in the world, and you are the main stroller down the streets of Laredo or New York.

Or, as if you are the owner of the world, and you are entitled to keep out all those you want to for no reason or for any reason you feel like.

Whether in a school or a gang, you may pronounce yourself Kingpin by your own authority. Within the strata of where you place yourself, you may arrange other human Beings and sentient creatures this way or that, and some you oust, or somebody does. You decide what the world should look like, and it can be the person with the biggest mouth who wins the biggest prizes.

If anyone has heartache, you may even say he deserves it. Not you, of course -- you may receive ill-gotten goods. You may masquerade as the power and the glory. Only you and a few other chosen do. You may feel that what you want is yours to take or you can do anything you want to do.

There is you, and except for a very few, others may not be of the significance you merit. There are wolves and sheep. There are higher and lower. Ideals are laughable. Might is right. So it may seem.

Even so, I, God, am visible. Nature continues to grow crops. Nature continues the seasons and weather. The Sun shines. The Moon copies the Sun. Stars come out.

Despite perceived devastation, there is also Goodness and Peace on Earth and Good Will to man, and Joy and Laughter. There is Goodness and Mercy on Earth and Unbounded Joy.

Love rebirths again and again.