Just as there are tides to the ocean, there are tides in life. In order for there to be tides, there must be cresting and ebbing. "Tide" is another word for "time". Time and tide are apparent in life and in your life, even though neither exists. Is not all of life and all of language metaphor for Being?

And do not life and language capture deliciousness? No matter how you may complain about the physical world, no matter how much trouble your sacred belief in it may cause you, no matter how dense it strikes you, is there not a deliciousness that simply reverberates your soul? Even when you grumble, isn't there a deliciousness there? What in your life do you savor?

Although your senses may limit you to the material world, don't you love them? Don't you love the feel of soft silk and chenille? And don't you love the feel of gritty sand and heat under your feet? Don't you love the sturdiness of a rock to sit on? Do you not love nearby and faraway sounds of music and seagulls? What about the unbeatable smells of grass mowed, a flower picked, or a day of rain? What about the taste of a melon, a lemon, or a ginger snap? What sights do you see that are marked immemorially in your mind? What thoughts give you happiness? Which color lipstick assuages your heart? What textures even just to look at delight your soul? Where, My beloveds, where does not beauty exist for you to delight in?

Even what may seem ugly to you now, in years to come, may become a memory of sweetness that you glossed over at the moment.

Even extreme heat in summer and extreme cold in winter are a balm to you. Yes, indeed, you love the contrasts, even though, in truth, there are none, for there is Oneness.

Think of all that your mind holds and holds with pleasure sweet and bittersweet. Think of this creation you are privy to. My beloveds, why deny yourself happiness when, in truth, you are loaded with it?

Your mind censors. It categorizes. It tells you when to be happy and when to be sad. It tells you when to smile and when to frown. It tells you when to question and when to accept. Has not your fertile mind become a dictator of your happiness? You are a Being that is meant to be free to enjoy creation. You don't need to be a critic of it. Praise rather than appraise. Honestly, you have no standard to go by.

A child knows more than you. He takes pleasure in mud while you scorn it. You may value cleanliness more than joy. You may value work more than play. You may value coin more than anything else and engender the metal that is gold more than a heart made of gold. I don't say you do. I say you may, or you sometimes may. To miss such an opportunity of joy even once is too much.

An invisible Santa Claus is delivering real goods to you every day. The gifts he gives are invisible too until you see them.

Joy and love are equivalent. Even take joy in loss. It is only an idea that you lose. Take joy in the idea then that there are treasures precious to you that you would keep near. You have loved ones. You love them. Your love is enough. Gold is gold, whether smooth or not, glistening or not. And you yourself, in whatever mode you are in, are a treasure. You are certainly Mine.