Universal Child of My Heart, you ask Me about this fright that is stuck in your heart.
You ask Me: “What is this panic? Am I paralyzed, frozen? I am struck with fear as if I row the Boat of Life. My heart feels for those who have Real Problems whereas I am inveigled by fear and terror of days when I do not love, and I do not feel loved and where love seems not.”
I say to you:
Leave others' lives to Me. Leave your life to Me — step lightly, jump high! Fear does not belong to you. Let go of fear, for, in fear, you may abscond from life. No longer see life as risky. In a sense, life seems like a free-for-all to you, or, perhaps, a free-fall. You see danger.
Figuratively speaking, Life in the World amounts to Blossoms Falling from a Tree. The blossoms swirl around in your heart. The Sun plays around with images of itself. Birds sing for what else but joy?
What if life were play and not tragedy at all? What if you just find yourself going into the theater and sitting down? The curtain opens. The play begins.
When the play is over, the curtain closes, and the play is no longer on stage. A play is acted out, and then the play is over. Everybody leaves the theater. Everybody goes home.
The sleep you sleep at night is a different kind of theater. Different locations in the world and the Universe are different backdrops for all kinds of theater going on. Sometimes theater stars whippoorwills, and, sometimes, trumpeting elephants. Some movies are in color, and some are silent or muted. There is darkness, and there is light, and all is theater no matter how the play turns out and no matter who attends.
This life on stage means everything to you, and yet it is all simply a change of scenery and perhaps a seeming new cast of characters. Even the same actors play different parts whether they remember their lines or not. Some drama goes on off-stage. Some actors run up and down the aisles and mingle with the audience.
Yet all of the theater goes on simultaneously. A Movie Director says, “Lights! Camera! Action!”
All of the theater says: “Heart, emote!”
All of the theater says: “Heart, be still.”
All of the theater says: “Once upon a time…”
And yet there is no such thing as time. All seems real and yet is imaginary at the same non-time — these dramas and tragedies and comedies on the stage, all interspersed and, in Truth, imaginary yet believed in. Everyone cares and yet may appear not to be involved, uninvolved as it were, yet you watch with your heart in your mouth.
Memory plays a part. Memory is like an echo, the beat of a tom-tom in the far distant night. Memories intrude. Memories dance on and off stage.
Is there a price for admittance? It seems so to you. Everyone pays the piper, so it seems, for every brief scene. Dancers, musicians, chorus lines, audience, all dance to the piper's tune. Angels add to the music, and the plays are over too soon and yet are endless until all plays merge as one endless Spinning of the Wheel.
What is the difference, say your thoughts as they call out to you. Yet it seems that all is a repeat of itself, whether at the beach or on a mountain top. The script is the same. Even the locations merge as you can no longer tell the sets apart.
And then there is the rolling out of the drums, and the beats are the same, and the word is Life. Life ta dum ta dum. Life ta dum ta tum.
You, the audience who has admission, become the dancers, and you become the stories. As you whirl, you turn into butter, and the butter you turn into returns to the Sun, and you shine for all in Cinemascope and Technicolor and black and white, bright and somber all at once or off and on.
Life is a mixed bag that disappears before your eyes and you, as you seem to appear in the world, disappear along with it.
There are entrances, and there are exits, and so you find yourself in one or the other until you make a Grand Exit off the Stage. Seemingly, the lights go off.
Tomorrow, there will be another play, and another dance, and another cast of characters. Then, you probably come back for another run, and then you watch yourself once more and again and again in a new version that reaps Great Applause. Bravo, bravo!
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