God said:

Blessed are you who search for Me, and blessed are you who do not search for Me. Blessed are you who seek, and blessed are you who run away. Each of you is an innocent. No matter how sophisticated you may be in terms of the world, you are an innocent.

All are innocents. The clever are innocent, for they think cleverness is a great feat. The naïve are no more innocent than anyone else, for the naïve are also unaware of the heights they climb and what it means to be a child of God. No one knows more than another no matter how much they seem to know. Everything is new under the sun when you look up.

No one wears armor. A storm assails the wealthy as well as the poor. Storms assail the sheep of the world, and storms assail the wolves alike. It matters not your title nor anything about you. You are all innocents at sea, pulled by a tide beyond your ken.
Mighty you are. Power you have. Strong will you have. Awareness, you have some. Lack of awareness, you have more than some.

Majesty is within your reach, and you shrug it off. You confine yourself and cry out that you are isolated. You want to be the fairest of all, and you find out that everything in the world is fleeting, up and down, back and forth, and that is called duality. You are isolated by your thinking and perception of life on Earth. You have had a limited view, beloveds.

You have seen the world as flat and life narrow when life is vast and you are vast and Heaven and Earth are vast and you have not yet realized the Vastness which is yours for the taking. Your hand has not reached out far enough, and you conclude that there is nothing there.

There is only what you have here or have had foisted on you here and there, and they are not enough, not enough at all, for you have sought to amass trifles and have named them fortune.

There are treasures waiting for you. They are not beyond your reach. You have been too close-fisted and not yet opened your hand fully to the Heavens. You have dug the Earth and not found what you were seeking, or, you found what you were seeking and yet had not sought enough or far enough or near enough to your soul’s liking. This is your discontent.

You have not really believed in soul, in your soul. You may believe in soul as a nice expression, yet you are not convinced that you are soul, and that you are soul without bounds. You may perceive a fragment of soul, yet, all in all, you may well have discounted it as not really available to you, or soul as a nice myth, or might as well be myth for all the good it has done you in the world in which you live.

What would a soul be doing in this world anyway, you ask. Soul must be bent out of shape. You don’t really get why you are here, and why would your soul ever want to come here, this place of bewilderment and what, whatever it may be called, clasps you in confusion and suffering. If there is another side, why then, seeing is believing, and you haven’t yet seen.

You would be agreeable to living in peace and harmony. You would love love to be more than a flash in the pan. You have had enough of love as a sometimes thing. Love has not delivered to you what it advertised. Where is this solid love that you have heard about and that your heart is fresh out of?

What happened to your dreams?
Your dreams are here, right here where you left them, still waiting for you to pick them up again. Hold out your hand.

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