Heavenletter #4156 On the Hammock of the Moon, April 11, 2012Lit Corner | April 11, 2012 | 08:05
How do I speak? I speak through every tree in the world, every leaf, every wind that blows, every sigh, every smile, every tear. I speak through your eyes, and I speak with your tongue, and I speak through poets and those who make songs. I Who Am Stillness am always speaking through you. You are My voice. You are My expression. You are My ears, and you are My blessing.
Speak for Me. Let Me lie quietly and listen to you and what you say and how you represent Me, Oneness, in so many ways.
You are My agent. You are My spokesman. You are My advertiser. You are My expression, and so I am expressed.
I shall lie in the hammock of the moon while you light up the stars like candles and hold them up so that all may see. I gaze at the stars, and I gaze at you who are My tribute to Myself. We are the adorers and the adored, and We are the adoration We share.
You kneel before Me, and I kneel before you. We copy each other. We want to be One and the Same, and so We are.
The difference is that I know Who I Am and you know not Who You Are. It is too hard for you to believe, so you believe it not.
You have seen yourself as a salesman on Earth. You are a seller of wares and yet have not sold yourself on your Self. You are a salesman of trinkets and foreswear the real jewels. The real gems cannot be boxed. They cannot be broken and made into beads. You are the jewelry of My heart. You are the diamonds I hold while you look for glitter on the street. You forget that you shine in the light of the Sun and in the light of God.
You forget, and know not what you forget. You forget that you have forgotten. You are My only begotten son. You think you are scrapings and scraps of yourself when you are Self Entire.
You plant roses and think you are pulling weeds. You gather rosebuds and know not what you gather. You may gather gossip like corn. You gather memories and make a shrine of them. You gather yourself the way you drape a cloth. You know not what you are folding, and yet you fold and unfold.
You press yourself with an iron. You collect for the sake of collecting or recollecting.
You affirm the untrue and cannot sleep, or you affirm the untrue and sleep your life away.
You are the pilot of your life, and you forget your bearings. You forget to look up. You look back, or you look away, or you look at your feet as though your feet told the story of your life. Leave another kind of footprint, beloveds. Leave a footprint of your heart and your courage in soaring. Take flight without a net under you.
We can say that your net is above you, and that Heaven is your net, that I am your net, and your consciousness is your net, and We can say that you don't need a net, for you don't need saving.
Life is ascertained. You cannot fall. Oh, yes, the world is fraught with peril. That is only the story from one lens. Life has many lenses and many tales to tell. Even as the tale is varied, the tale is one story of beautiful love and stillness. That is the beginning of the story. Actually, there is no beginning anymore than there is an ending, for life is alive, and there is no end to it.
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