You Said, "Walk with me"

I said, "Walk with me." Then I looked and found you'd been beside me all along. You are my brother. The word has no gender. Brother is not a body, the body is nothing. Brother is an aspect of mind seen as apart. If I see a part of myself as "you", as away from me, then I can displace my guilt onto "someone else."

Guilt is our way of hiding from Who/What we really are. Guilt is a demand that I am separate from everything I perceive. To perceive is to look out rather than look within. Perception is a wish projected as an image. In this way, we can look at what we thought we did as if someone else did it to us.

Using words to try and describe reality as it really is is like showing you a hammer because I cannot recall the word "Strike." I know what strike looks like, I know how it feels to me, but I cannot express it except by showing you a hammer. But then you must be able to get in your mind strike, and not hit, or pound.

Nothing has happened to change Who/What we are. I am driven to write these things, though I have no idea why. Something in me moves me. Nor do I even know what me is. I do not know what I is. And yet it matters not, because there is no gap between us. We are not just interconnected by a common thread, we are the same.

I said, "Walk with me" because you said it to me. Brother, it was never there, a cold scary world of outside forces mounted against us, a constant struggle. It was a dream from which we awoke instantly because it was not our Creator's Will, and that means it was not our will. We are one Self, living in perfect love, perfect peace.

Unshod

Leave your shoes at the door, cross the threshold with feet bare. Our home is your home, the home we never left. Only dreamed it so.

Understand there is no door, no threshold. You placed them there because you have taught yourself to function in those terms: Form, structure, your own special self as set apart from (your sense of) your ancient sense of otherness. Yes, welcome to the "place" you always were...always are.

You are not a separate being. You are an aspect of a Greater Reality. The bed you made cannot support you, for the body you made to lay on the bed does not exist anymore than does the bed. Only perfect love exists.

The frightening images you think is a world apart from you, peopled with other bodies that seem to come and go, all this never took place. The reason this is hard for you to understand is that you are fighting against the idea. This means you are fighting yourself.

You think these words are coming from "something" outside your body. There is no outside, and no inside. You are making the words in order that you understand, however dimly, what you are telling yourself. For this information is coming from yourself. Self is all there is.

You awoke long ago, in your terms of time. You think you continue in time, and you think the more time there is, the longer you will continue. Yet you know your days are numbered. You know your body is falling apart, regardless the steps you might take to keep it "healthy".

This is unnatural. You are not a body. You are hiding in a world of your own making. THERE IS NOTHING FROM WHICH TO HIDE. You are perfect love. You remain as created. You tell yourself you do not know your Creator, but this is not so. You tell yourself you will be your own creator, but this is impossible. This is why the world you made is in a state of constant decay, why it is crude, why you do not remember telling yourself these things. The world you made is not eternal. Only the eternal is real. This is so beautiful and true that it confuses you. But only you can confuse you. Only what is real exists. This is your will because it is your Creator's Will.

Your dream is gone because it was not your will. You did not will it, you just invented it out of your fear that you had lost everything. But as your Creator's Child, you ARE everything.

Cross over, welcome to your Self.

The Unnamed

There lives the unnamed, the unnameable. It is beyond words. We think it is apart from us, as we think we are apart from each other, as we think we can think without affecting each other. With every thought we affect each other, and the world we believe is outside us.

The unnamed created us. But created is wrong, because there is no past...then the mind begins to reel. I ask my mind to be quiet, to just be. I am convinced now that the unnamed is real. I am convinced that what I call my thoughts affect those around me.

The self I think I am is an illusion of self. I am (we are) dreaming. No one, nothing, real has ever been harmed. We invented the concept of harm. We invented the world.

Nothing I write here is original. There is only one thing to say, but many ways to say it. I write of a reality I can barely sense, but I do sense it. It is not apart from me (us), I just thought it was. Others have sensed it, and in truth, all sense it. But then, there are no others. There is one self; we are one self.

The love the unnamed has for us cannot be described; its peace extends to every living thing, itself unnamed and unnameable.