souls

If we want to create Heaven on earth, we must be the creators of Heaven on earth. This means we must choose to infuse honor and love into each experience, with every soul and creature we encounter. In its simplest form, this is what Angels do.

Have peace in knowing, dear ones, that we are all composed of energy. Energy never dies. It is always changing and transforming.

We are all connected -- I believed it then and believe it still now -- at least in an energetic sense. And who__ to say this energy is not real? We can__ see gravity, either, yet we don__ deny it. We can__ see magnetism, yet we don__ question its forcefulness. So, why, then, when people -- spiritual people -- talk about a force of substance that binds us all, that unites us all -- when these people talk about souls -- why do we dismiss them as charlatans?

When you raise the most valid of points, you will be grazed by the most hollow of souls, and the most vacant of personages.

Similar souls wander in the similar places! They may not know each other, but often they touch the same winds, they step on the same leaves, their looks are lost in the same horizons!

To find elegant souls, you must wander in the elegant places!

Such was the case with most unhappy students; they avoided even one another, so intent on their own unhappiness they failed to notice the other lost souls around them.

Helen, you would just have to sit still, close your eyes and think of me, and I would turn the universe inside out to find you. I would go anywhere and fight anything to get to you__itches, dragons, and even pirates. If I have to pass through a hundred lifetimes, I will do it to find you. I may be an old man and you may be an old woman. You may not even recognize me by the time it happens, but you will know and I will know, because nothing can separate us. We will always be together. I promise you. Now stop worrying.

There is hope for the living souls.

Walking was not fast enough so we ran. Running was not fast enough, so we galloped. Galloping was not fast enough, so we sailed. Sailing was not fast enough, so we rolled merrily along on long metal tracks. Long metal tracks were not fast enough, so we drove. Driving was not fast enough, so we flew.Flying isn't fast enough, not fast enough for us. We want to get there faster. Get where? Wherever we are not. But a human soul can go only as fast as a man can walk, they used to say. In that case, where are all the souls? Left behind. They wander here and there, slowly, dim lights flickering in the marshes at night, looking for us. But they're not nearly fast enough, not for us, we're way ahead of them, they'll never catch up. That's why we can go so fast: our souls don't weigh us down.

For truly we are all angels temporarily hiding as humans.

Animals, like us, are living souls. They are not things. They are not objects. Neither are they human. Yet they mourn. They love. They dance. They suffer. They know the peaks and chasms of being.

The idea that all souls are mortal is the only notion surely terminating love and all its forms.

Now that her spirit had left, I__ thought she would feel light. Then I realized it was the spirit that carries the weight of the body and not the other way around.

We suddenly feel fearful and apprehensive, naked in our perishable flesh, and for just a moment we wish we could go back to being stone__rumbling in death rather than rotting, trapped inside an immobile prison of stone rather than reduced to immaterial souls like those that now rattled within our skulls. The moment passes. There is no point in regretting irreversible decisions__ne has to live with them, and we try.

It was such a strange tormenting feeling when your daemon was pulling at the link between you; part physical pain deep in the chest, part intense sadness and love. Everyone tested it when they were growing up: seeing how far they could pull apart, coming back with intense relief.

I'm not sure I'll ever know the meaning of life or what comes for us after death, but I know it's more than the hysteria people make it out to be. It's about freeing your soul when no one else can; turning thirty and still feeling like you're seventeen. It's about taking chances on a whim, embracing the rain during the storm, and smiling so damn much that you start to cry. It's never regretting, never forgetting, and always being.It's kissing underwater and touching in the dark. Loving even when you think it's emotionally impossible and surviving someway and somehow. It's about living life with a full heart and an overflowing glass.I live life on the edge. I dream, I care, and I belong.I know there's a here and now.I know that I want it.

Perhaps hell is like that; a discordant confusion of anxious souls. Some argued, some slept, some shouted, some wept, some wrote, some sketched and many conspired about their coming interrogation. But mostly they did no more than stare into space, eyes unfocused as they tried to see tomorrow.