God said:

Come to Me. Fly on the wings of angels. Your wings are beneath your thoughts, deeper than thought, higher than thought. Your wings are your heart. They come from your soul. Your wings are budding now. You are flying to Me which is to say that your awareness is opening like a butterfly’s wings, and, so, you come to Me on wings of angels, so to speak.

You have to fly only to where you already are. You never were away from Me. You were never not deeply-seated in the Land of Heaven which is no land at all. It is the beautiful space, We can say loosely, which is not a place at all, yet We can call it space, even as space does not exist. Perhaps more correct to say the spacelessness where We, as One, already and always abide.

We can call it the space in My heart where there is no exclusivity. One cannot be excluded from One. We are -- I AM love -- and you are love, and love exists, not here, not there, but everywhere.
Love exists no less on Earth than it does in Heaven.

Only, in Heaven there is no discounting love, or storing it, or covering up for the supposed sake of pride or not being hurt or something like that which is not ever at all worth what it costs. To deny yourself the giving and receiving of love is unthinkable. However, you have thought of it, and you have adapted it to your world and to your life.

Oh, no, beloved beloveds, open up your heart to all the love that is in Heaven and in your heart. Hear Me. Hearken to My heart which is all yours. Hear My heart. Let My heart speak to yours, which is to say, let My heart speak to My heart, the heart of Me that resides in you.

Let your supposed heart speak up for itself. It is a strong orator. It is quieter and more subtle than all the matters you mostly attend to and far more powerful. Your heart is so powerful that it has occurred to you that it is too powerful. Therefore, you subdue it. Your beautiful heart, you subdue it. You make it wait offside in a corner until – until what? Until it is safe to come out?

It is not your heart that concerns itself with being hurt. It is your vanity. The ego’s alter-ego, vanity, has to protect itself. Your heart needs no protection. Your heart is not a martyr, and your heart does not have to hide from itself. Your heart is the most beautiful rose in the world, and you keep it aside, waiting, waiting for what? An award? A return? Your heart’s love is its own return.

The opposite of your heart’s lovingness is fear, fear of rejection, fear of not being honored enough. Honor your own love. Your own love is your mettle. What do you need a medal for when your heart is worth gold?

What has it cost you to say: “I have won the blue ribbon of what the world says is important and mighty.”
Sooner or late you realize you may be hiding away the greatest treasure in all of life, and you sacrifice it for an emblem, a trophy, a poor substitute.

What can it possibly be worth to you to throw away your heart and put in a pinch-hitter chosen by your mis-beguided mind -- My Heart, loaned to My Children, do not let the wayward mind of the world take over your heart. May your flag of love and free will ever wave strong.

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