There is a metronome to life. It is your heart set to the beat of Mine. We are all One United Heart that pulses the world. All the rhythms of music wish to say this. They ascribe to say the same thing. The drums that beat set the tempo for the whole world. I beat a drum in your heart.
There is rhythm to life on all levels. There is a swing to it. There is preparation for motion, and there is motion. Even in a still picture, you see that the person wasn't always in that position. Perhaps they have just sat down, or are ready to get up. Even in stillness, there is motion.
Breaths go in and breaths go out.
There are occasions to rise to.
You who are a participant in life are also an observer of it. In life, you are watching a movie reel. You are on stage at the same time as you are in the audience. You are everything everywhere.
You are notes from a flute you breathe your breath into. You are the keys of the piano your hand plays. Your sing My tune around the world. I hear you who hear Me.
All the music you compose can only be a refrain of the One Note I sing. And I sing of thee. I sing of thee to My heart's content. The world is encircled in My love. All hold hands. There is nothing but this Oneness. You are a whirling Dervish of My love. Your heart spins.
What is life in the world but a symphony of song and a dance troupe and utterances from your heart.
How can everything in life matter so much and yet not matter at all? The waves of life flow in and they flow out, taking everything in their wake. The tide cannot be stemmed nor can it be hurried. Everything is evanescent except eternity. That means except thou and I. The Oneness of Us is eternal.
Who is the storyteller and who is the listener? Who wrote the story and where was it written? What is the meaning of it, and where does everybody go to when they leave the room?
If there is only One Being, where are all the beings who marshal life with Us? For the blink of an eye, they existed, or thought they did, or you thought they did. What exists in the world is a stream of life. Boats traverse it. Who is the rower of the boat, and what is this about many ships passing in the night?
There are overtures and invocations and cymbals of endings. The music never ceases, but there are pauses between. When the orchestra leaves, the music still plays. Music once heard continues to be played even when everyone has left.
Why then is life, a mere series of notes being played, so serious an event? For all of life in the world is only an event.
There is a campfire, and then it is put out. But the flame continues. Light goes on. What is the difference, yet it is all the difference in the world. In the world, it is. You want this present life to go on forever, even when you know that all acts come to an end, even when you know there will be another show in the theatre tomorrow.
On or off stage, you still are. There is no here today, gone tomorrow. There is only change of clothing, one costume for another. And all the while, you are unchanged. Only appearances change. Appearances are chimeras, and you are eternal.
Nothing happens but that you move to another stage, you who are motionless in the beat of My heart.