In a Special Valley Blessed by God | Heavenletters

God said:

Beloved, every Human Being on Earth may not be in the same boat as you, yet everyone is seemingly in a boat. It’s like you wound up somewhere, and you don’t quite know how you landed here or there or why. It’s not at all clear to you. It may be that you wound up high and dry for all you know. If only you had the combination to the lock of life up your sleeve.

What is the point to which you succeed or at least make progress? Are you ahead, or are you still by the wayside? If only you had a gauge to go by. If only you knew where you stand or where you sit or where you play the band or pick up headway, even when you don’t know or have an inkling what life amounts to.

Sometimes you feel as though you go upstream and reach only so far as a good laugh. Who are you, and what are you doing here? Do you really and truly exist? What is true, and what is false? What verifiable data do you have anyway? It could be you are a pig in a poke picked up without quite realizing it. Do you fall into the midst of life or in the midst of nothingness?

You do happily know for sure that there are some people’s energies that mean wonders to you, and you know you are astoundingly blessed. You are the blessed of the blessed. And it is all true and clear to you. Even when you are in a muddle, you know you are secure in a special valley blessed by God.

Somehow, somewhere, I stopped and picked you up and made you a blessing – no doubt about it. You were miraculously found in a manger no matter what.

Or, perhaps, you were picked up in a dust storm or blown away. Sometimes you haven’t been given prior notice. How did you wake up when you did – by happenstance? How do you know anything you think you know anyway?

As it is, you could have been caught on a leaf on a bush. Had you ever known yourself previously? Did you ever have a look at yourself, or did you make up this whole thing in the first place anyway as by way of a hit or miss story?

Or perhaps you sat on a curb this whole non-existent time, or perhaps you were someone’s note you found and thought you existed as a thought in time. Your mind may well have run around in circles just for a lark.

Do you actually speak, or are you a recording you once heard or thought you heard yourself for the first time by magic? Or is magic real, and nothing else is? Or how would you know anything when all is said and done?

Even numbers cannot all be counted on, not in your book anyway, even when you actually keep records that you try to balance. You might rather just skip over dates and numbers. You would be happier if you were made of colors and sunshine and shimmering gold or glimmering heliotrope.

How do you happen to think of this unusually-named color heliotrope all of a sudden? At the least, colors have some flair, yet how can colors know themselves anyway near a ballpark figure as much as you imagine you can know yourself in the first place? What is all this about your being known as matter in the first place? Can you really account for yourself no matter how hard you try?

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