4 A.M. The Sabbath

There is no other. We live in the vast community of the Self. The golden chaos of God, an explosion of free energy with no purpose, no beginning, no end. The divine plan is no more than this breath, filled with sorrow and joy, filled with the atoms of our ancestors, atoms of the dying, atoms of the unborn. This very breath is the mystery of incarnation, fall, and redemption. This very breath rising and falling in a groundless sea of beatific uncertainty. In the ocean of Grace there are no higher or lower planes, no beginner or advanced, and no attainments. This boundless dazzling catastrophe is neither right nor wrong, eastern or western, spiritual or physical. There is no beyond. There is nowhere else. There is nothing to be proved or improved. The shift has always already happened. Please don't call it "impersonal." You are intimate with the stars, and the wild expanse beyond the stars, which in totality fills each atom of your body. Distance is an illusion. Nothing has ever been created. There is only the Creator. What remains to do but love? Thus the perfectly brave hero takes up a cup of tea, sips slowly, washes the cup until it overflows with emptiness, and carefully sets it back in the cupboard. What has been accomplished? Everything. Listen! At 4 A.M., space itself is awake, pressed out and overflowing with tenderness, with the fragrance of Christ. Listen! The silence of this moment is the song of a trillion unstruck bells. There is no other. We live in the vast community of the Self.