No longer fear what the world calls death which, as it turns out, is no more than a change of venue. Those who die and the loved ones left behind come to a point of releasing a certain filter more or less identified as the physical.

The old style camera no longer can take pictures, or, rather, you don’t have the means to develop the photos nor, at present, are your eyes able to see the behind-the-scene levels of Being. The physical is no longer the featured picture. The loss you anticipate has only to do with a glimpse of the physical and the senses you have become accustomed to.

Your beloved who appeared in the physical can now be looked at more like, no offense, an old favored couch that you have to let go of, or, on some occasions, a beautiful newer couch that got covered up in some way. It is a well-grasped idea in the relative world that everything you are attached to has to be let go of, yet this parting is so heavy-duty that your heart hurts and you pay dearly for the privilege of having known the soul of one who became so dear to you.

What passes, dearlings, is time, even though time is only an idea. Time itself even acknowledges that it marches on, and there is no holding on to it forever more. Time is a wily will-o’- the-wisp.

Perhaps it can be said that time, which seems to be daily, is a sketch drawn. It is an as if. What seems solid to you on Earth is a façade that you believe in deeply, yet, nevertheless, it is still a façade. This is not the first time you have bought something that isn’t all you thought it was.

Even with the Crystal Diamond of Love, as preposterous as this has been to you, you have momentarily fooled yourself about Love on occasion. Although Love is inevitably true far more than you can conceive, you have been fooled with pumped-up love that amounted to nothing at all. You sold yourself on it. Truth lasts. Polish wears off. You bought a song and dance.

What Life comes down to for you in the world is a story. All of the story is real-seeming, yet even when the only true is Deep Love, Love on the surface may turn to dust as received or given. Nevertheless, within you lies great burgeoning Love that can never skip past and leave. It is with you always.

Being is permanent. Being always is. No one really leaves. Being is true. Beingness exists and never leaves. As ephemeral as Being may seem to you, you are solidly immersed in it. You are Being. You are It! No one dissolves from Beingness. Beingness is Infinite. Infinity is what you are and always have been. I repeat that you are Infinite. You are a constant. You never began, and you never cease. Life on Earth seems to you to begin, yet never was there ever a time when you were not.

You may be riding a train in Life in the World and see varied sights as you travel at the Speed of Light and catch aspects of Life in the World. It is as if you touch a button here or a button there and look into a Kaleidoscope of Pictures of Life taken from different angles of the Sun.

Light is Light. Light never is less than Light, although, in the world, Light may seem to dim. In Truth, the Light of Life never dims. There are no curtains to cover or shade the Windows of Light. There is no disappearing of Light.

In Life on Earth, in what you name as death, you hop from fiction to the Eternal, where Truth is known, and fiction is a mass idea and not Truth in the least.

Fiction is a jaunt you take. Well, We can call it a trick of the mind. Well, what is illusion but a trick of the mind at that anyway?