Life is real and delightful, everything is full of wonder and beauty. This whole world is alive, we are immersed in the magic. Life is love and love is who and what we are.
One day I saw it all so clearly, I knew what I knew because I was living it. I felt the spirit, the heart, the fearless delight of being a child again. And strangest of all, it seemed like I became real, it all became real, but in a mystical, wild wonderland sort of way. Life is simply magic, a miracle infused with beauty in everything. It’s all alive, moving, being, existing in the most marvelously sublime ways. It’s a feeling, a seeing that the impossible is possible. In fact, all of this, you and me, we are the very living of the impossible being possible.
Now, with this ever present love that lives as the very life of me, now, I am bounteous by just being here. The simplest things, love, music and moonlight, the cat sleeping at my feet, the cool morning air coming through the open window. Being, simply being. I wake up in the morning, and life is here, right here. Life is without beginning and without end and I am here, living it – now that’s impossible, but yet, it is so, it is a fact that always was, and always will be.
When this childlike self of myself returned to me, she brought a holy grace with her. This grace is soft and easy, it just sort settled in me, deep and rooted and it is stronger than I am. In the beauty of this grace-full tree, lives this little girl and her guileless spirit. There is an agile simplicity in all this, and that makes it all all right, just the way it is. I am rich with the ongoing joy of just being here, moving along with easy days, and in the midst of this beauty, it’s all become an amazing adventure.