10 January

So love of self is paramount, and most of life is spent in search of that illusive sense that we are Heaven-sent. But what of this so-called Heaven, and how are we to know whilst here on earth, so meagre, without a hint to show?

The truth is that we do not speak of religious interpretations, and so the term might better be our home, the source of all, pure spirit from which does emanate all energy to spawn new growth and higher consciousness in living out our plans, those tasks we came to earth to do, and help our fellow man.

How odd it is that as a people we yearn to live this life, yet all at once we hanker for this purity to strive to come yet closer to the all we know is true, a sense we cannot register, but which is ever present to the many who, in thought and deed, have faith and hope that all one does is for a cause far greater than one’s own.

Our home is where we are, always, but distant in a haze is the memory of the full understanding it does raise in minds who long for that which awaits our timed return. If one could grasp this fact and yet also know this too, that what we know of senses meek is miniscule in view of all that thus awaits us, and without a moment’s passing, nor with need to travel vast a distance in our asking, for it is said that all we need is within our very core.

All that is now asked of you is to turn the key of door golden, and request admission; no earnest soul will be declined, and see anew the all you’ve lost, and taken in your stride. For it is so that all is nothing ’till you see yourself as that which you have sought for elsewhere, and which cannot be bought.