Sassafras’s Wisdom

Chase, Chuck, Charlie, and Sassafras were tromping through the wooded areas of their local park on a hot summer day. They were as alive as alive can get; with good wriggley energy pulsing through their young bodies. Unofficially, they were known as The Three Muskeeters–at least that’s what the crooked plywood sign read above the entrance to their tree fort. Sassafras had recently joined their merry gang, but they had yet to get around to changing the sign to “four.” The three boys, the “C’s,” had been friends since meeting at grade school a couple of years earlier.

The goodies–of licorice, chips, and pop–had long ago been devoured. Now it was time for serious talk, the get-down-to-business part of their outing.

“Let’s take turns sharing what we want to be when we’re grownups!” exclaimed Chase.

“Sounds good,” said Charlie, “but we gotta vote on it.”

With that, the children’s hands spiked upward, signalling that the proposal had carried.

“I wanna be a tax collector,” said Chuck. “It’s government, don’t you know; so at least there’s security. I also hear that the benefit package is quite attractive, with an indexed pension.” The other two boys nodded seriously and gave their thumbs up.

“I wanna be a mortician,” said Chase. “People are always dying–you hear of it on the TV almost every day; so business should be steady. If I salt away some savings on a regular basis and make some savvy investments in a diversided stock portfolio, I think I could do quite nicely.”

“Makes sense,” said the boys in serious agreement.

Next was Charlie. “I’m gonna be the owner of a tech startup. I’ll make sure that I get a ton of options in our initial public offering of stock and make a financial killing when I sell at the peak. That’s a flagpole formation on a trading chart, in case you didn’t know. I’ll make sure to set up an offshore business to evade any unnecessary tax burden, and I’ll probably be a billionaire before I’m thirty, if I play my cards right.”

“What about you, newbie,” chimed the boys to Sassafras. “What do you want to be?

“True to her deeper nature, Sassafras paused and allowed herself a few moments of contemplation before answering: “I think that being born a human being is very special,” she said, “so I want to make the most of it. “I just want to be happy, and I figure that the best way for that to happen is to follow my heart.”

“Nahhhh,” exclaimed the boys! “Seriously, what to you really want to be?!”

Dare to dream (and care for one another).

With heartfelt regards,

Art

P.S. Please share this article if you enjoyed it. If you’d like to view my latest book (This Taste of Flesh and Bones), press here. My YouTube videos can be found at Think2wice@I-Am-Aware. May the content of either or both help you along your spiritual journey. “Thank You” & “Note to Publishers” 🙏🏻🧡

Light Prevails

The following is “actual” radio communication that was recorded via satellites functioning for Awareness One. I apologize for the poor sound quality:

***

Triple6: “Ccssshh, come in, Bastard Child. This is Triple6.”

Bastard Child: “Go ahead, Triple6.”

Triple6: “Ccssshh. There’s been a breach.”

Bastard Child: “Go ahead, Triple6.”

Triple6: “Ccssshh. I say again, ‘there’s been a breach.'”

Bastard Child: “Let’s try this one more time. Say again.”

Triple6: “Ccsshhh. THERE’S BEEN A BREACH!”

Bastard Child: Dead line. Buzzzz.

Triple6: “Redial.”

Bastard Child: “Hello, you’ve reached Diablo Incognito. Your call is important to us. All of our Dark Operators are busy right now, but if you care to stay on the line, we’ll have our way with you as soon as possible. Directory options include: Press 1, to enroll in current Dark Classes101; Press 2, for Upcoming Evil Events; Press 3, for Despicable Deeds; Press 4, for Greed/Corruption/Propaganda; Press 5, for Egotistical Leaders of Our Time; Press 6, for all other inquiries. We’re experiencing heavier than expected call volume at this time. Expected wait time is two-and-a-half hours. Key muzak: The Devil In The Blue Dress.Triple6: (Lights a cigarette, bites his nails, taps his fingers). A finished pack later: Muzak ends:

Bastard Child: “How may I help you?”

Triple6: “We’ve experienced a tear in our narrative.”

Bastard Child: “How big a tear?”

Triple6: “Large–waist to crotch. We are officially exposed.”

Bastard Child: “Are you saying, worldwide?”

Triple6: “Confirmed, worldwide. They know.”

Bastard Child: “Who’s they?

Triple6: “The Awakened.”

Bastard Child: “Any chance that synchronized media patches could cover?”

Triple6: “No possible way.”

Bastard Child: “Be advised, this call never happened; this call never happened; this call never happened.”

Dare to dream (and care for one another).

With heartfelt regards,

Art

A Tear From The Divine

Bruno did not cry, ever. For as long as he could remember, he had believed that crying was a sign of weakness; and he, Bruno Steinbeck, was a strong man. The narrative that played in Bruno’s mind was, “I am a man with whom to be reckoned. If you mess with me, you will find yourself in a big mess.” A body builder, Bruno trained at the gym five days a week, lifting ever-increasing weight. When his body had refused to comply with his demand of “more, bigger muscles,” he had forced it to submit to his will through the use of steroids. He would show the world his strength, or die in the attempt.

Outside of the gym, Bruno was also a force with which to be reckoned. The notion of conquest that he applied to weights in the gym also applied to his relationships and the women he dated. How good it felt to have attractive women hanging on his arms. In business, he also applied a motto of beat or be beaten. Earth was a competitive arena, with no room for losers; it was survival of the fittest. On a superficial level, life felt very good; but there was a yet-to-be recognized level of suffering lurking beneath the surface.

As part of his training, Bruno often posed in front of full-length mirrors to study the shape and size of his muscles. It was during one such posing session, that Bruno noticed one lone tear suddenly run down his right cheek. He was holding weights at the time, so there was nothing he could do to hide it. Would other body builders see it?! There was the tear…trickling downward, until it reached his upper lip. As quickly as he could, Bruno set down the dumbbells he had been holding and wiped the tear aside with his palm. Unnerved by the bizarre occurrence, he left the gym early that day.

***

That night, just before Bruno drifted off to sleep, “That” which sent the tear to him at the gym, spoke to him softly but clearly. It seemed as though he was feeling the words emanate from the pillow beneath his head: “Dear child, “It said, “you’re carrying too much burden. Put down your weight and awaken to That which you really ‘are.’ You’ve been dreaming your so-called life; of apparently being a muscular man named Bruno, who is six-feet tall. Please listen to me now; you’ve ignored Presence far too long. Give rest to your innocent ignorance and awaken to Truth. You cannot possibly be who you ‘think’ you are; that is delusion related to your egoic self. To know the lasting peace that ‘passes all understanding,’ you must know thyself.”

Dare to dream (and care for one another).

With heartfelt regards,

Art

Tony’s Parrot

Once upon a time, there was a lonely middle-aged man named Tony. He’d had several brief relationships; but for reasons unknown to him, they always ended abruptly. The women knew, however; there was an aura about him which they found very unappealing. At one point, Tony’s loneliness became so severe that he decided to purchase a parrot for company. Off he trudged to a local pet store. When he returned home with the parrot, which he named Billy Boy, he hung the birdcage on its stand in front of the television. He reasoned that Billy Boy would, thus, have something to watch while it was locked up in its cage.

None of Tony’s neighbours knew what he actually did for a living. To one, he had claimed to be a rocket scientist; to another, a health professor; and yet another, a political leader. All they knew for certain was that Tony was gone…all day long.

One day, after leaving the T.V. attuned to a non-stop business news program, he returned home and was pleasantly surprised to hear Billy Boy talking. He raced to be at his side.

“The DOW is down, the DOW is down!” squawked Billy Boy, as it shuffled side to side on its perch.

Tony was so impressed that he rewarded Billy Boy with some brown rice, his favourite food.

The next week, Tony returned home and was overjoyed when he heard Billy Boy had learned some more new words.

“The market’s going to crash! The market’s going to crash!” cawed Billy Boy.

Again, Tony rewarded Billy Boy with some more food. This time, he gave Billy Boy steamed vegetables, which he gobbled up.

The following week, Tony returned home; and before he had removed his coat, he heard Billy Boy sing, “Bitcoin’s a buy! Bitcoin’s a buy!”

With tears of joy, Tony approached Billy Boy and embraced its cage. How he loved his little bird, the partner for which he had longed.

***

If persons had heard Billy Boy spew its news about business, they might have assumed that Billy Boy was quite bright–perhaps even a business genius, trapped inside the body of a parrot. We of course, know better; for we realize that Billy Boy was just parroting what it had been programmed to repeat. There was no thinking involved.

Dare to dream (and care for one another).

With heartfelt regards,

Art

P.S. Please share this article if you enjoyed it. If you’d like to view my latest book (This Taste of Flesh and Bones–released September 8, 2020), press here. My YouTube videos may be found through this link. May the content of either or both help you along your spiritual journey. 🙏🧡

“Thank You” & “Note to Publishers”

Good Rumblings at “The Place”

Tom and Jerry, who were caretakers at The Place, had sneaked out the back door for a smoke. They had worked hard for the previous few days, in preparation for the spiritual gathering that had begun only a half hour prior. As rules governing social attendance had been dismissed, The Place was packed to the rafters with one thousand men, women, and children.

“Should be a quiet night,” said Jerry, after he exhaled a deep draw from his cigarette, “I don’t think those spiritual folks will get too rowdy.”

“Yup,” said Tom, “clean up should be a breeze, too.”

They continued to puff and chat; but within the next few minutes, they noticed a groundswell of sound from behind them. They could actually feel it; it pulsed through the air as though by its own life.

“What the heck…” began Jerry.

“…is going on?” finished Tom. With that, both men stubbed their cigarettes beneath their boots and went back inside and climbed the iron stairs that led to a small overhead viewing platform.

Below them, a woman holding a microphone was jubilantly shouting questions. She moved with electrified vigour upon the stage.

“What’s The Center of your life?” she cried, with a triumphant wave of her free hand.

From the crowd (consisting of persons who were rising to their feet in increasing numbers) came the powerful reply: “God Is!” In unanimous agreement, they accentuated their replies with a loud “Thump, Wump” stomp of their feet.

“And where is The Center?”

“Wherever I Am!” Thump, Wump!

“Is The Center in you?”

“Oh, yes!” Thump, Wump!

“Is The Center in your neighbour?”

“Yes, there, too!” Thump, Wump!

“Is there anywhere that The Center isn’t?“

“Nooo!” Thump, Wump!

As the sound continued to build in intensity, Tom and Jerry looked at each other, stunned by the appearance of persons young and old being moved by the Spirit of Truth.

“I’ve heard rock bands quieter than this!” shouted Jerry, with a hand cupped aside his mouth.

“Me, too!” shouted Tom.

Again, the woman on stage urged the crowd onward: “Where is The Center?”

“Everywhere!”

Leaning forward, she filled her lungs to the brim, then turned and cried, “I can’t hearrr you!”

“EVERYWHERE!” came the thunderous reply. Thump, Wump!

“And where does IT end?”

“Nowhere!” Thump, Wump! Thump, Wump!

“Is it your essential nature?!”

“Yes,” cried the crowd, “oh, yes!” Thump, Wump!

With the last reply, Tom and Jerry turned from the platform and made their way outside for another smoke. “Crazy kooks,” muttered Jerry. “I second that!” exclaimed Tom, raising his hand. It was time, they agreed, to break out the bottle of whiskey that they had stashed behind a panel for just such an emergency.

***

What Tom and Jerry didn’t realize is that the Omnipresent God that the people were celebrating is often referred to as Consciousness. It has been described as a sphere, whose center is everywhere and perimeter nowhere. It is “That,” the one-and-only Power which was actually empowering Tom and Jerry’s freedom to deny Its very existence. Due to innocent ignorance, Tom and Jerry were unintentionally “prodigal sons.” If they grow weary enough of the world, Grace might gently nudge them to look within and discover their true nature. Conversely, they might continue to cope with life’s apparent challenges through bottles of malty distraction. Regardless of the outcome, All is ultimately good.

Dare to dream (and care for one another).

With heartfelt regards,

Art

Namaste-Not World Government

Namaste (loosely translated as): Salutation, Bow to you, “I honour the Greatness within you“

***

Soul, calling to be heard: “Ringgg. Ringgg. Ringgg.”

NNWG, recorded message: “Thank you for calling. You’ve reached Namaste-Not World Government. All of our Habitual State operators are asleep right now, but we’d like to assure you that here at Namaste-Not World Government, ignoring you–and your concerns–is of utmost importance. We take denying your innate Greatness and so-called civil liberties very seriously, indeed. Please stay on the line; please stay on the line; please stay on the line.” Buzzz.

Soul, calling to be heard: “Ringgg, Ringgg, Ringgg.”

Soul, calling to be heard: “Ringgg, Ringgg, Ringgg.”

***

Isn’t it time to bring a ~~little~~ LOT more HEART to our world?

When better than NOW?

Dare to dream (and care for one another).

With heartfelt regards,

Art

The Barcode Checker

Domnarian, as he liked to be called, was a Barcode Checker, First Class. He had worked his way up through the rank and file of other checkers and passed his final exam. His mission was simple, although not easy. To him befell the task of recording an accurate number of those who were awake and those who were still asleep. From north pole to south, the world was divided into four major sections of longnitude. He was responsible for overseeing the performance of affiliate barcode checkers in each section, who arranged the installation of automated polling machines. Persons would arrive, as demanded, and stand on a large X, six feet in front of the scanning machine.

In a digitalized voice, the machine would ask: “Who are you?”

At millions of machines, the answers were recorded with various versions of the following: “I am Jane Smith; I am Vladamir Ivanov; I am Maria Sanchez; I am Samar Khatri; I am Aina Tanaka; I am Carlos Sousa. The process was ongoing, 24/7, with the statistics being gathered through thousands of worldwide computers. If the machines, which were programmed with rudimentary lie-detector capabilities, sensed hesitancy or a reply that was slightly amiss in tone or inflection, a light at the top would flash amber. The machine would then utter: “Halt, say again. Who are you?”

Unbeknownst to the masses, The State considered each person little more than a barcode, a file that could be easily scanned to reveal if said person agreed or disagreed with The State’s agenda. Pertinent information, such as degree of awakeness, (and thus, potential threat to The State) was flagged with letters of the alphabet. The letter E, for enlightenment, signified high alert.

What The State didn’t realize was that there was a dramatic upsurge in the numbers of Beings who were recognizing their essential nature. When asked the question (“Who are you?”), such “persons” would face the machines and, with feigned indifference, reply with their barcode name. Inwardly, however, they were smiling. Occasionally, the machines would briefly flash yellow, to caution that it was possible that the person was a knower.

In time, Domnarian will be looking for other employment. Why? Because True Humanity is rising, glorious and triumphant. The number of “knowers” is increasing expoentially. These are the ones who are secretly “walking away from the machine mentality.” They know: I Am That I Am. I Am a child of God, an aspect of the One-and-Only Creator; and there is no-thing and no earthly power that can take “That” away from me. Thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven.

Dare to dream (and care for one another).

With heartfelt regards,

Art

P.S. Please share this article if you enjoyed it. If you’d like to view my latest book (This Taste of Flesh and Bones–released September 8, 2020), press here. My YouTube videos may be found via this link. May the content of either or both help you along your spiritual journey. 🙏🤍

“Thank You” & “Note to Publishers”

The Exclusivity Bus

Note: (Source made it very clear that the dialogue in this article would be spoken with a thick English accent. For the bus driver’s character, it will help if you imagine him as a pirate of old–in contrast to our modern-day pirates. The young boy in this account, Oliver, is six years of age and about to begin Grade One.)

***

Oliver and his mum had just arrived at the curb near the front of their home when they saw The Exclusivity Bus round the corner and pull to a stop in front of them. The doors yawned open, and Captain Jack, the bus driver, peered toward Oliver. “What say ye, young lad,” he bellowed, “arrrr ye friend or foe of the state?!”

Nervously, Oliver adjusted the mask over his face and turned to his mum. “What does he mean, Mum? I don’t know what to say.”

Oliver’s mum leaned down and looked him softly in the eyes. “Say, ‘friend,’ Oliver. You know, the way that we practiced last night afore bed. And show Captain Jack your boarding pass, the one with the squiggly pattern on it.”

“Aye, Mum,” said Oliver. Reluctantly, he turned from her hug and boarded the bus. When Oliver reached the top step, Captain Jack leaned forward, scanned the pass card that hung from Oliver’s neck, and a large overhead screen flashed “ACCEPTABLE” for the rest of the students to see. As the bus lumbered ahead, Oliver made his way down the aisle and sat opposite another young boy.

“Today should be great fun,” said the boy. “We’re going to learn so much.”

Oliver looked at him and smiled weakly. A feeling deep within told him that something was amiss.

Onward the bus rambled through the streets of Oppressorville. At each stop, he repeatedly heard Captain Jack bellow, “Arrrr ye friend or foe of the state?”

A few blocks later, Oliver smiled and felt his heart gladden as the bus eased to a stop in front of his friend’s home. Janie and her dad were standing at the curb. Oliver and Janie had been best friends for three whole years, ever since they and their parents had met at a local playground.

As Oliver watched, Janie’s dad gave her a departing hug; and Janie approached the entrance to the bus. True to his training, Captain Jack leaned forward and bellowed, “What say ye, lass? Arrrr ye friend or foe of the state?”

“I’m just being me,” said Janie, with a broad smile. She felt excited and happy to be wearing her new knapsack for school.

Captain Jack rolled his eyes and raised his head to glare at Janie’s father. “Be she friend or foe?”

“She’s just being true to herself,” her father stated calmly. “Our family lives and let’s live.”

Captain Jack screwed up his face and sternly demanded, “Does the lass have a pass?”

“No,” said Janie’s father.

“Then, by the power of the state,” barked Captain Jack, “I, deem that she be UNNACCEPTABLE for this bus!” He then slapped the doors closed and pressed hard on the accelerator. Before the bus had pulled away, Oliver stared out the bus’s window and made eye contact with Janie, who was sobbing beside her father.

***

Seven hours later, the bus rolled to a stop in front of Oliver’s home. His mum was waiting to greet him. As soon as Oliver stepped from the bus, he broke into tears. Despite his mum’s best efforts, she could not calm him. He was inconsolable.

“What’s the matter, Ollie?” she asked, when they were back inside their home. “Didya no’ have a good day at school?”

“I’m no’ going back–ever!” blurted Oliver. Tears were rolling down his red cheeks. “I don’t like it…atoll!”

“Did they mistreat ya?”

“It’s no’ that,” snuffled Oliver. “It’s the meaness. They wouldn’t let Janie on the bus.”

Oliver’s mum’s spine sagged and her face went pale as she realized what had happened. She’d heard of such accounts. “Well, it’s just the way life is right now,” she said. “We must be good friends of the state and do as we’re tol’.”

“Even if it hurts our friends and family?” asked Oliver.

A brittle silence filled their living room, his mum initially uncertain of what to say. Finally: “But you want to learn, don’t you?”

Oliver’s chest quivered to a brief pause. He sat upright and turned to face his mum, his dark brown eyes shining with truth. “Not if this is what they’re teaching me, Mum,” he said. “It doesn’t feel right.”

“I know,” said his mum after a few moments of reflection, “but you’ll get over that in time.”

***

Dear Readers: A prayer that we’ll reach for the best that we have to offer our world. We’ll know that we’ve achieved it by the accompanying good feelings.

Dare to dream (and care for one another).

With heartfelt regards,

Art

P.S. Please share this article if you enjoyed it. If you’d like to view my latest book (This Taste of Flesh and Bones–released September 8, 2020), press here. May it help you in your spiritual journey. 🙏🤍

“Thank You” & “Note to Publishers”

Bow Not To “The Megaphone”

Aanan, who was ten years of age, stopped dead in his tracks and watched in horror as his little brother Nathan, who was five, ran straight into the town square where “The Megaphone” was positioned atop a black marble base. Around its perimeter was a macabre decorative pattern that was identical to signs that were placed conspicuously throughout their little town, each with a singular camera-eye in the middle. Although not stated overtly, the meaning of the signs was absolutely clear: “Beware, we are watching.” Everyone knew that proper behaviour decreed that all citizens must halt at the perimeter of the circular pattern, bow, and then kneel before continuing on their way.

Two loud “Pssst, Psssssst’s!” from Aanan, followed by a piercing whistle soon caught Nathan’s attention. Aanan was frightened that the sirens positioned atop The Megaphone would blare at any moment.

“What?” Nathan called as he turned nonchalantly to look at his brother.

“Come here!” snapped Aanan, with a wave of his arm.

“Uh, uh,” said Nathan, “I gotta do somethin’ first.”

Aanan rolled his eyes as his little brother disappeared from sight on the far side of The Megaphone. Nervously, he waited…and waited. Less than a minute later, his little brother strolled into sight on the other side of The Megaphone.

“Don’t you ever–EVER–do that to us again!” snapped Aanan. “You could have gotten us into BIG trouble!” He grabbed his little brother’s shoulder and yanked so forcefully that Nathan momentarily lost his balance.

At home that night, when Nathan was lying in his bed, tears flowed down his soft cheeks as he hugged his teddy bear and thought of his mom and dad. They were both “gone” now; but his thoughts flowed to a night when his mother had hugged him close in their cozy living room and told him the following:

“You’re a dear child of God,” his mother had whispered as she stroked his hair, “the same as all of us. You’re not owned by any human. In this household, your father and I live respectfully; we express loving compassion to everyone to the best of our ability. When we look at others, we see ourselves because we know that we come from the same Creator. We give thanks to God for our very life.”

His mother’s words, which intuitively felt right, were directly opposite to those of his older brother. “No!” Aanan would exclaim repeatedly, “we belong to The Megaphone. We must do what The Megaphone tells us to do!” Aanan had heard stories about what could happen to those unfortunate beings who refused to submit. In his heart, he even wondered if that’s what had happened to his parents.

Nathan hugged his teddy bear more closely, and his tears ran in such abundance that his teddy’s face soon became damp. Nathan was afraid, so very afraid. What if the rumor was true, that The Megaphone really did know if we went number one or number two when we went to the bathroom? Unbeknownst to Aanan, when Nathan was on the far side of The Megaphone he had peed against its base. It had felt so good, so very good. A few minutes later, Nathan rolled onto his side and snuggled under the covers; but even with his head covered, he could hear the heavy sounds of the tall-booted Megaphone Soldiers marching past his window.

***

Dear FamilyOfOne,

Regarding the darkness that is represented in this fictional story, perhaps we might ask ourselves what type of “world” we are building this moment, this day, this week. What potential consequences might arise from our thoughts, beliefs, and actions–or inactions? Are we expressing compassion, consideration, and respect for everyone, or are we part of The Megaphone Society that hopes to win–what?!–by domination of our brothers and sisters? The choice (perhaps forgotten) is ours. HERE and NOW we may exercise awareness and put the POWER of LOVE toward shared good intentions.

Dare to dream (and care for one another).

With heartfelt regards,

Art

“Thank You” & “Note to Publishers”

An Email To Art

In a paradoxical twist, I share the fictional email below to relate Truth. May its message of love resonate with your heart and help to alleviate confusion that is the cause of our apparent suffering:

***

“Dear Art,

It is I Am, the Only One. I reach to you because I desire to ease your troubled heart. Your grief and despair, which is broadly termed suffering, have become too burdensome to carry. Because of my boundless love for you, I have formulated this message about your essential nature. Please read it carefully in a time and place conducive to introspection.

I Am well aware of what has been going on in your apparent world. You, and so many “others” are so worried about life. Grave concerns about health and well being, employment woes, and violence against one another have become so commonplace that there seems no light at the end of the tunnel. Please trust Me, there is. I shine for all of you, now and forever. The anguish that you’re experiencing is due to unrecognized ignorance. You erroneously assume that you consist of flesh and bones and that so-called matter is the foundation of your world. Due to this, you believe that your body-mind is discrete and functions autonomously; it does not. Without Me, it is impossible for you to lift a finger. This is related in John 15:4: “Remain in me, as I also remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me.” Please remember that I and the Father am one.

To correct the situation, you must become aware of your essential nature. Here is Truth: You are only dreaming that you are “Art.” Although you and eight billion persons appear to be physical, such is only appearance. The Sanskrit term for this illusion is Maya. To understand this better, we may compare your so-called reality–right here and now–to last night’s dreams. Of what were they made but Consciousness? Why do you assume that the apparent reality of your world to be any different? When you awakened this morning, did you expect to discover any material remnants from your dreams? If so, where are they now? Could not the reality of this experience called Life on Earth–of walking and talking, of working and playing–also be made of Consciousness? Can you glimpse that to which I point?

You cannot possibly be who you think yourself to be; nor can you be separate from Me. You can, however, BE. The fear and negativity that accompanies the human perspective, which is founded in ignorance, does not belong to you. You are not a separate self destined for an earthly grave; you are spiritual sons and daughters of I Am That I Am. You are Awareness, Christ Consciousness, the Buddha, hidden by the dark cloak of physicality. Your body-mind and the world appear in Consciousness. Through Me, you are a co-creator of your world and circumstance. You are Spirit, eternal.

To recognize Truth, it is imperative that you become still and know that I am God. The I Am that is Me is the same I Am that is you and everyone and everything else that you perceive. In other words, you are I, and I Am you. Perception ‘is’ the world. Arise, dear Art; it’s time for you and your spiritual brothers and sisters to know “What” you actually Are. You cannot become enlightened ‘as‘ a person; but you can be freed from the erroneous belief that you are a person. It’s time that you awaken to the Light of your BEING.

Much love,

Grace (of God)

***

Dare to dream (and care for one another).

With heartfelt regards,

Art

“Thank You” & “Note to Publishers”

Think2wice

CONSCIOUSNESS, SPIRITUALITY, & LAW OF ATTRACTION

Category: Freedom

Sassafras’s Wisdom

Light Prevails

A Tear From The Divine

Tony’s Parrot

Good Rumblings at “The Place”

Namaste-Not World Government

The Barcode Checker

The Exclusivity Bus

Bow Not To “The Megaphone”

An Email To Art

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