Nothing can contain the joy I feel. My joy overflows. Joy meets itself whenever My eyes and My thoughts and My love fall on you, My One Child, My One Self. To say that you are deep in My heart doesn’t say enough, for you are My very heart.
To say that We, you and I, are intertwined does not say enough. There is really no weaving of us. I AM, and that tells the story. It is not totally accurate to say I AM you or to say You are I, even though those are true so far as they go. There is One, and there is no distinguishing you from Me nor distancing Myself from you, yet, of course, We do contrive to do that. We do that all the time, and there is that rascal Time getting in Our way, messing up all Our discourses. Because of fictitious time, what We say incurs this or that, now or then, etc.
The Truth is that there never was a time when there ever was anything but I and I AM. There never was a time when you were even a tiny inch outside. The reducing of All That Is into sections of time, contracting, contrasting Truth and time, making one dependent upon the other when there is truly no need brings up the question When and for what duration, how long or how short. The same goes for the sense of space that consumes you and its question of where. When and Where also bring up sequence and precedent, before or after. You do begin to see that time and space are two ends of the same stick. Even time and space are not separate any more than We are or ever were or ever will be.
Because of time and space, ins and outs rise up, and complication sets in. Complications are not real. Complications are a set-up.
Perhaps ego is a child of time and space, a construct of time and space. Without time and space, how could ego, false as it is, exist, or appear to exist? Time and space gave birth to a clown, a tiny clown that blows itself up to be big. Without the concepts of time and space, where would selfishness come from? Where would all this identity and you and me and mine and yours come from? There is only One of Us.
Only, in the world of time and space, all this ownership creeps in. The idea of space yields to the idea of not enough room in the inn for all. From space comes the idea of displacement. I could go on and on, and I often do. From time and space come the ideas of protection and defense, and protection and defense arise from ownership which is a false fact. Regardless of deeds and liens and contracts in the world, there is no ownership. There is assumed ownership, understood ownership, yet ownership does not have a leg to stand in.
Time and space say differently. They are Jokers in a deck of cards.
The reality of the world is one thing. Reality is another. Much can be seen in hearts in the world, yet the only real is love. All these other manifestations are pure malarkey. They are the Emperor’s clothes washed and hung out to dry. They can even be proven in the physical world, yet how far in space or time does that take us? Nowhere.