There is never a said and done. In the world at large, all is set to change on the surface, that is.

Inevitably, regardless of anything else, you are Being. Being is GREAT. You and I are One. We are One Being. We are One Beingness. There is no end to it, Beloveds.

You know everything as surprised as you are or even astonished. You set the menu. This often seems ridiculous because you would recluse yourself, so you think, from all that which comes your way that you may not like one bit, yet you are the one who left the breadcrumbs for Life to follow.

You may be Landed Gentry one moment. The next you are a beggar, or the reverse, or you are so upsy-daisy you seem to live the Life you present to the world, yet, by a long shot, you are far more than your presentation.

You are like a reversible jacket. You can alternate the gold inner lining outside and the brown outer coat inside. The coat is made this way with inner lining and outer surface to be worn at your will. All that occurs and that you appear to be, you designate. You are certain you would not, who does if you don't?

There was a time when adverse was not a thought or consideration in your quiver. You did not think of adversity or trouble or death and so on. It is as if they had not been invented yet. Riding a Merry-Go-Round in Life held no caution for you. Judging was not yet heard of. Now you may well judge to the nth degree.

In Reality, there is no downside. Life is Lively, yet once you did not ascribe tragedy to Life. You did not see foul-play as you tend to see it now. Now, if you play Tiddley Winks with a friend and you lose, you may feel downfallen.

Someone might comment: "You simply play a game," suggesting that there is no cost or loss to it for you. It's just a game. You play the game, and all who play are winners. There are no losers. Nothing has really happened anyway.

There is always this and that that are beyond your present-day sightings.

In Reality, you are a Rose in Bloom. You are Essence of Rose. A Rose in Bloom does not see doom. A wilted Rose sees no wilting. It sees itself getting ready for its Rose Self to bloom again another time. What cannot be right with this?

Roses have a different attitude from you. A Rose blesses itself. You are no less than a Rose, only you may think you are.

When you are a Rose in Bloom and someone picks you and puts you in a vase with water, isn't this a lovely turn of events? Life can only return to more Life. Summer or winter, a Rose takes Life without disturbance. A Rose under snow is still a Rose and takes Joy in being a Rose. A Rose is not disturbed at changes in circumstances.

You are a Rose no matter what, yet human Beings tend to see themselves in good shape or they tend to see themselves in bad shape, as if there is a way that is acceptable to you and a way that is not.

Even if a vandal tore you apart, My Rose of Roses, still you know your closeness to Me. In this case, how even would a musty Rose feel differently from a Blooming Rose?

Human Beings seem to form a union of mistakes regarding surface blemishes when the surface isn't your Truth at all. A Rose isn't to see herself scarred, nor does a rose feel scare easily. What is there to be scared about when you are always Mine, that you are always a Treasure of Mine? Even if My Rose is stepped on, a Rose knows its Rosiness. A Rose knows My Love. A Rose also knows its Love and the Purpose it serves and is glad to.

What is disturbance but a thought? What is Joy but a thought?

Every day My Children set out on a Journey of Thoughts. It is as though the sentiments of thoughts take you on a journey near and far, as though your own thoughts may kidnap you.

You abscond with your thoughts. You run off with your ragtail thoughts. Of all the thoughts you can run off with, these are the ones you take with you, as if you have no choice, as if you are not a Free Being, as if you are a captive of your thoughts, as if you are railroaded by them. Yes, indeed, you are taken by your thoughts, or you run off with them. You run off with your chosen thought pals, or they take off with you. You’re not sure how it works.

Sometimes your thoughts rally you, and sometimes your thoughts invade you. Sometimes you are ravaged by your thoughts, as if they have all say over you, and you have no say over them.

And, yet, whose thoughts are yours except yours, even when you feel that your thoughts carry you in tow, that you are indentured to them, as if they take you captive and you have no choice at all.

Are your thoughts, even your deepest thoughts, vagabonds? Your thoughts race through your mind, and will not let you be. Some you cannot forget. Are your thoughts your consciousness? You have wondered. Are your thoughts the sum total of you? This thought may make you tremble.

Where do these so-called thoughts of yours come from? They slip in and attach to you, and, yet, your thoughts can change at any time. They do, or they don’t.

What is the reason for all your thoughts, some of which seem like paying a debt, occasionally a few like rewards.

If only you do really have a choice of thoughts and are able to bring some to your rescue.

You have even thought that you do not think at all. Sometimes I daresay I think you think too much.

You would love to be at peace, yet, how can you be at peace with so many thoughts running around in your head and heart?

Are thoughts lessons you are never to forget? Are they apportioned to you or mis-apportioned? Are the thoughts that crowd your mind haphazard lessons, perhaps, not your thoughts at all, or possibly someone else’s messages that got flagged onto your Heart.

Sometimes you would like to trade your old thoughts in for new, yet you are cautious about checking out your old thoughts and capturing new ones.

You would love to be wise and reverent, yet, too often, you feel ravaged by thoughts that wrangle you and won’t leave you alone.

What happens to your old wrinkled thoughts when you hop off from Life in the world and hitch a different train?

What about all you truly learned, math and history and such and telephone numbers and addresses and songs, oh, all the songs you have learned and cannot forget, and, oh, all the stories and all the joys and, yes, all the heartaches! Where do the Joys of Yesteryear go! Were they ever really somewhere?

And who are you really, or were you ever really anyone in Truth?

What if you never did exist and only imagined you were? Was this whole vivid and unknown Life just a play on thoughts anyway? What is the long of it, and what is the short of it? You wonder if you will ever know and what difference it may make when you do or you don’t.

What can anything mean anyway? You don’t really know that something transpired, and yet you hope it did and that it was meaningful. Perhaps you would never have wanted it otherwise than it appeared to be. Perhaps you would never have gone through all of this. You can’t even imagine what it was or could be or that you could know that anything was for whatever it was.

The Sun rises, and the Sun sets.

Everything changes, and yet nothing changes. Oh, yes, momentarily, every moment Life and change proceed. There is constant change that changes nothing. There are the seasons. The seasons do their thing, yet, inevitably, another season pops up, and here you are again.

Leaves on trees change all over the place. A leaf buds and grows green. A flower blossoms. The leaves change color. The leaves are covered with snow. The leaves are dormant. The leaves start all over again. These are no surprises, and yet there are anticipations.

Changing colors and budding of flowers take your breath away. You have an idea of the miracle you are witnessing. It has happened a thousand times, and it will happen another thousand times and more. Nature is battened down, and Nature is freed. You can only look on in awe at a glance of Infinity in your observation and in your Heart, your Infinite Heart thrown out to the world as it may.

Change -- here today, and change -- gone tomorrow. Change seems to be unchanging. What is new under the Sun is unchanging change which comes out as no change at all even as it happens again and again.

Even as Nature is repetitive, Nature is ever new. Life will not be cold-shouldered. There is something good here even as Life on Earth is the same again and again and yet ever new as it blossoms and as Life folds its tents or spruces itself up.

The world makes you gasp in Joy. This is just right. Your heart bursts, and every moment penetrates your heart with enchantment and a certain disarray.

Life sometimes seems to be like a man's shirt electrically folded and unfolded again and again by virtue of a speedy contraption. The shirt of Life perks up as it is spread out before your very eyes, patted neatly, and then done and undone again and again, as if there were nothing more important than the folding and unfolding, the doing and undoing of spontaneous folds in this simple man's shirt, done and undone to the Beat of Your Heart. You could call this ceremony a Rhapsody or a dirge depending.

What is this Life anyway that bobs along to your Heart's content or to your Heart's dismay?

How did you and Life seem to get here, and what on Earth are you doing with Life when you may be dunning it or it may be dunning you? What is this seeming tax agency, this avenger who chases you day in and day out, causing you to run in terror, so it seems, or perhaps leaving you alone now and then only to pounce on you later when you may have thought you were done? What are you suspected of when you have no idea of who and what you are as you run over the Earth having no idea what is really going on.

You dreamed otherwise. You have dreamed dreams. Sometimes your dreams came true, and sometimes they have been snatched away from you by and by.

Through all your Life, through all of Life's ravages and its surprises, We can say you have gotten away with Life. Not only that, you wouldn't have missed the Story of Your Life for anything, not in a million years. Not in a million years would you have undone the spell cast on you. You would grab Life by the hand again, and you would call out in your loudest voice:

"Life, come and get me again. We will sail over the Bounty Main. We will be fast friends, and we will all treasures find and Life's Meaning and know that Life is like the world You made, God! We will look at Life and say with a round of applause: ‘It is good. It is filled with Joy Overflowing! Thank You, God.'"

Beautiful Children of Mine, at the Heart of you, am I. Do not think that I glorify Myself, nor do I glorify you. You ARE My Glory. You ARE the Glory of God. This is how it is, plain and simple. This is Truth. This isn’t illusion or fanfare. This is not an attempt at cheer or encouragement. I am not spoofing you. You just can’t quite take in what I say, and so you scoff as though I make a joke out of you, limited as you may be in your trust in Me.

Granted that you are imperfect in your day-to-day enterprise, you are convinced that you are the ignorant. You have no doubt. Of course, this platform you come from is absolute folly. You just about respond with: “HA-HA.” You have not only convinced yourself of your ignorance, you prove true to it.

You would rather proclaim yourself outside Heaven’s doors than to bluff your way or take a chance that you can be more than you are generally thought to be. How you don’t want to fall flat on your face. You would rather not presume at all than to proclaim fabrication. You can lie about a lot of things, yet you feel preposterous to lie about your Identity so boldly on this Earth.

Honestly, you are not going to kid yourself and be caught out.

You might like to theorize that you would like a promotion at work and become the CEO, yet you simply don’t have the bluster to carry it off. You could fantasize that there is nothing you are afraid to tackle. You may play with the possibility only in terms of ego. You are perhaps more afraid of being ridiculous than of even the possibility of rising to Godhood even as you would wish to. You can only laugh hardee ha ha at the absurdity of your being more than you believe.

While you hardly dare contemplate the frivolity of this that I maintain -- that you are Myself -- you are certain you are incapable of any such thing. You are sure this is an absurdity. You think I must be out of My Mind to say such a thing.

Yet, even so, there are the reserved moments when you have a vague wondering at why I would exclaim this unless it were true. For what reason would God state this? There are miracles in the world you can readily accept, yet, not this one. You don’t want to fall flat on your face.

There are brief moments when you might like to believe that you have Vast Ability, yet you shake your head. No matter how many times you protest your inability, a slight thread of doubt runs through your doubt, barely an imagined glimpse of doubt, the possibility surely too much to hope for.

In any case, it is a moot point to you, for you see yourself blundering day after day.

Once in a blue moon, you might hear a refrain that perhaps you are more gifted than you know, that somehow the rare possibility exists within you that you are greater than you think and greater than anyone thinks except for Me.

When someone in ordinary day to day life asks you how you are, you may say, “Great,” and not mean it at all. You may feel low or even slatternly.

Dear Ones, reconnoiter. In a corner of your mind, retain the flash of an idea that you are what I say, that there is more to you than meets the eye, that I am clear and know Who you are, and you are not a little pipsqueak but a Great Being hidden from sight Who will walk out into the Bright Sun and declare the Reality of All-Knowingness with Humility and without Ego, and you will know this is the Truth..