Sometimes I am the furthest thought from your mind. Yet I am beyond your thought. I am irrespective of it. I may be out of your thought, your eyesight, your hearing, your conscious awareness and all, but I am never out of your sphere. That is, you are never out of Mine.

We exist, and We can say We live in the same life. But it is a different movie I see from the one you believe you are watching. We go to the same theatre, but We see two different movies. Seated side by side, with one screen before Us, We see different pictures.

We engage in the same sport, and yet the name is different. I play in Love always. You do too but you think you play Fight and Withdraw and other things like that.

What you consider Real Life is not Real Life at all. It is not even an imitation. It is far-flung. You think your feet are planted firmly on ground when you swing your bat, but you have never been more groundless.

All the troubles in life that you swing at are flights of fancy. You imagine a reality that is not true. It is a façade. It is a stage prop that a little finger of truth can knock down. But you hold dear to the cardboard set, and run away from, or mock, or refuse to look at the sterling gold that is everywhere. I will not say the gold surrounds you because that would imply another wall, but the gold is the essence of you and of life everywhere always.

How often I am considered responsible for the circumstances in the lives of men! I am responsible for your great imagination, for I gave that to you along with all else that is unlimited, but I am not responsible for your flights of fancy which are limits you chose to set upon yourself and others. All limits are imaginary. I don't set any limits.

You might say that your Human body is a limit. Of course, the physical can go only so far. The Human body is one of those stage props you have sold yourself on as the undeniable truth of you, when it is not truth at all. That which you can touch, see, hear, is not true. Tastes are not true. Tastes are just tastes. Everything in the physical is just a taste of the truth that is. Tastes are echoes of Reality.

It is like this: You push a door open. You see sights within the border of a room. And then there is another door. You open it. You stand at different thresholds and beyond each is yet another. The threshold — the opening of it — is called Infinity.

And yet you have held the view you have seen from the first door as the extent of all that is. You accepted a farthing for a tuppence.

You think there is an entrance fee to the other rooms, but entry is free. All it takes is your walking up and opening the imaginary doors that separate one supposed room from another.

You stand in a roomless mansion.

You stand in a mansionless mansion because it has no walls.

You stand in a universe with no borders, or it could not be universe.

Yet you think you live in a box, and you make that box as cozy as you can. You shore it up. You pad it. You decorate it. You move around in it and add things to it. And you think this tiny box is the universe, and you think that everyone else lives in a boxed-in world like yours too.

When the walls of your box go down, nothing is destroyed. The walls did not exist. All you ever had to do was walk right through them and begin to see with greater vision and less imagination.