To Individualize Me (T.I.ME)

That's how I woke up one recent morning whilst camping with Simon (shall I mention we were camping in the yard of the home where we live?). To Individualize Me, a seed the angels planted in my sleepy mind of the-meaning-behind-the-meaning of the word "time." Angels are never not clear. I'm wondering who's smiling more deeply at the light bulb going on in my mind, God or the Angels. (Of course there ain't no real "outside God." Never has been, no matter what strange stories are told. Yet, from my vantage here inside T.I.ME, it still kinda works to have labels for the Inner beings that warm and gently crack my heart wide open. Angels do thus for me.) "Finally," they're thinking, "She's comin' round." Still, I say with half-closed pleading eye, "Please place a few more of those moist cool cloths on my forehead, and even more please, don't leave my bedside! The ride ain't over yet."

Today I am loading and unloading. Moving boxes and boxes of books and gadgets and sundry lose items from my storage unit. Time for a garage sale. I longed (still do) to share the Love I feel, to reach the large mass of humanity that still rushes and still hates and still thinks there's value there. That thinks to give is different than to receive. Fallacy. Pure fallacy, but we're free, so we're free to think what we want. I dug myself in deep thinking I was above the fray. Nope. Nada. My T.I.ME story is not wanting to trouble folks with my existence, which is the exact same as those who feel their existence is more meaningful than another's. I have some of that as well. Ah the ego. What a teaser. It's the exact same mind job. Greater than. Less than. Purely unscientific and leads ultimately to a bleak, dark road that isn't real, but it feels outrageously, stunningly real, and often, before the fall, feels quite and deceptively shiny. There's that free will thingy again. In Truth, no greater. No lesser. It's science, the rest is a dream. There is only One. When this child's mind decided to create a carbon copy of the blueprint of Truth a long time ago, it didn't work out too well. But the child of T.I.ME is learning, and, gratefully, those who do not sleep outside T.I.ME never stop tickling us under the nose with their feathers.

My new nickname is Divine Blueprint Chucker but I Want It Backer. I am grateful that I don't know what will happen next. Increasingly grateful. Every time I think I have a clue, I'm wrong. Just Love. That's all I hear. Inside T.I.ME love. Just Love. All are perfect. All are good. All are whole and innocent. Trust the flow. Trust where the light is shining for me, and all is perfect as it is. Without exception. Nothing real can be threatened. Nothing unreal exists.* The carbon copy is dissolving. We are remembering we are Perfect Love's Perfect Prayer. More releasing to let God show me that's true.


*Quote from introduction to A Course in Miracles