384: The Baptism of Grace

. The Baptism of Grace

. All is well that never ends. The flow of the passion is divine in its awareness of unity and wholeness. No two ever need be separate again. No two need fear. No two need want. The separation ceases.

. At the beginning the one, still seeking the whole, drifts above and about and feels the extreme isolation of souls. Here she feeds in the torment of recognizing the agony of separateness; this is truly her feeding ground. The rapture is so intense the visions explode, the voices come nonstop, the pulsating life force bleeds out of her creation. Nothing is ever enough to erase the agonizing pain of being one and only one, while almost touching the All. Here she cries out in the deepest ways for connection again. Not for self but for All; and she remains here until her cup runneth over to the degree of plentitude that in drowning and drowning in the blended equal measure of sorrow and love, she must escape. She must return.

. And there in her waking all is altered: the shape of the space before her, the faces of places, the beings about. Nothing remains of the illusion; and she, as if spaded out of the depths of darkness, is ripened and growing, spreading out the vines that bear the fruit of wealth collected in gratitude; until her very roots penetrate her traveling soul, and she becomes all of what was before the separation.

. Here she begins to balance, to remain in the outer layer and inner layer, both within herself, witness to the masses, and without herself, hearer of the divine. And here, in this state of grace she is the grandest weaver of the All, capable of collecting in her arms the All, and releasing it out to the All; so that she gives without giving, and receives without receiving; moving as naturally as the wind through the forest glen, her greenery the very hatchlings of her goodness.

. She does not have to know. She does not have to know anything. She does not have to think of the past, the future, or even the now. She can just be and experience without thought. She can view the surroundings and disrobe the illusion cast upon the masses. Stare at the tree until the separation is extinguished; no longer the trunk, the limbs, the leaves, the green, the tree; behold what is beneath not knowing, the treasure the newborn beholds before she is immersed in an imaginary land of separation.

. All thoughts stop, and the eternal flame of love springs forth. The angels whisper, the heart beats grander, and the gentle glide of sensation vibrates up and down the outer regions of the back; the head, when upright, radiates in tingling sensation, the end of limbs embrace with flowing, nurturing energy. The being radiates with a goodness so sublime, she would gladly shed the façade of “AM” for the truth of “All.”

. In a state of grace everyone is beautiful, everything about them the lost treasure sought out the whole of life; only in this divine rapture of serenity, in the blanketed cradle of goodness, the one united recognizes that all is here and was never gone. She sees the past and future mingled, and the memories faded. All together she is combined into self, until she is no more. Blended into the divine knowledge of perfection and love, able to reach out to the other she be; not the parts, as no parts exist, but into the effervescent flow of what she once thought was another.

. There is no need to be anything or anyone. The one doesn’t desire to know where she is headed, what she is creating, whom she is affecting. No longer at the wheel, as she never was; no longer burdened by thoughts of need and want; no longer believing love is a separate action of give and take, a game with a paddle in which one gives out and waits hungrily to receive.

. In having received abundance and overflowing in peace, she needs, if need be, only give out what is within; and even in thinking so, she knows it is not she whom gives; for the one has receded back as the tide of the ocean, resting in the bounty of father sea, and allowing the rest to move forward that is no less a part of self than the air all breathe. She need only release and be, and the love abounds within and without. The more given, the more she is embraced. Thusly, she lives within a never ending flow of nurturing love.

. Just as the waters of the world, she cannot be diminished but is continually transformed into a recognizable form, whether collected, flowing, or pouring down into the valleys, she remains substantiated and full, entire in her being.

. Without expectation and the thought of outcome, she is entirely free. In forming a union with the life force, the one is riveted to the One of All, and in so being made strong and mighty. All meekness demolished, all humility firmly fastened, all littleness undone; her ways marked by the passion to serve.

. There is no goal setting in serving and no sacrifice too great. As sacrifice itself diminishes in the Light of Love; in being One there is nothing Love asks or takes, nothing given or received. All is, and in being so, all is remarkably at ease.

. Gone is the give and take of the world; gone is the guilt, the martyrdom, the pride that calls out to the world: Look at what I do for you, my sister, gone with the jester greed that gobbles at the side of the weak and collects its bounty. Missing are the ribbons of recognition, the falsehood of empty-vessel longing to be filled by illusion of grandeur.

. Once filled, there is no more to collect and no less to remember. Stepping back from the self, a new oneness is formed; the one searched for eternity and a day, and then erased from time itself; until the eyes of naught see tis only a blink that passed, the time between the first opening of eyes.

. Judgment begins to be a distant mystery, and here anger joins the side of what was naught. The ego is spread out in its ailments; each toxin leaked out and drained for the glory of knowing.

. The shadow keepers no longer haunt that which is naught, an invisible ghost no less for the coming than the going; for they move in a fashion so irregular and circumvented by causation and reaction that their spindly fingers cannot point to where the one of movement moves; for she is the cyclic force now, the beating center of the earth, that flows as the rivers and the seas, dictated not by her own desires, but by the pull of the moon and the moons beyond moon. The deepening connection forgers her into the very mountains herself, her camouflage becomes the rock of the world, her heart the very place in which the center bursts forth the force of creation.

. Nothing can stop the outpour of love; the force is entirely fierce with the kindness of ages forged through the varying element. Each is an outburst of destiny recreated, each a coming of what is and what was.

. Every relationship is refined and undefined. The truth merges into the one. The One merges into the truth, until no two exist and one stands firmly on the rock of knowing.

. There is a grace that occurs that is indescribable in measure and equally astounding in fortitude. The witness steps back and remains as constant observer, becoming gatekeeper, where she was once the rams head. Where she once burst through, ramming herself into the other, she now sets back and lets the nothingness of self speak out for the world.

. In this place of naught, nestled by the angels, she glances down at the world she knows, watching her vessel move, no more a part of the game of wanting, and instead partaking in a game of no chance, no victory, and no venture. She just is, this perfect being moving where she is taken, by a force unmistakably pure, her own self-righteousness bled straight out of her and made fertilizer for the grounds.

. If want enters, in his mask of fear, or fear enters in his mask of want, the poison is felt as sure as the deepest needle; and she need only wish it away with simple thought, to displace the element with the element of pureness; and then, in seeing this so, all becomes illusion, and she is brought up upon high and bathed in the love of her master, where He is beset in His glory beside her.

. And though she be angel baptized in the waters of translucent awareness, she also be the rest: the valley, the mountains, the deepest caverns, the wondering souls about; she be the very brother she beholds, and the very breath he breathes; and in seeing her own being beaded on the strings of eternity, her every part speaking and shining from the All, she wants nothing more than to create for this All what is the All within; to paint upon the soul of the masses, the painting before her, the goodness she abounds in.

. For she is no more and no less than the cyclic force bringing her outward and inward, cleansing her with each encounter and each road in which she bares her burden down.

. Fear sleeps. Nothing seems important anymore. Urgency ceases to exist, and when he comes it spikes the soul in its heights and in its pressure. Urgency rises and falls, the spike of the chart that surges upward in splotched ink-red and the spike of the iron that grounds into the dirt announcing its coming. There is nothing of nothing, and so in the coming of “something “ the heart beats again, the blood pulses, and the being that was, she is reminded of the world of chance, the world that moves for the creation of not One but of one. The smallest element undefined and set out for the wolves.

. Here and only here, in the state of the smallest element undefined, the fear reenters, still as phantom-dressed as before. As no fear exists in the realm of realm; it is only in the bringing of the warrior returned that the fear comes. For no fear enters that which is naught.

. Knowing the fear knocks only when the feet are touched down on the soil of man, then the witness can harness her horse, the steed, and march forward as brave knight demolished once more, crumbling to the ground and vanquished in demise.

. For to let the fear enter and kill the illusion is optimal. To bring fear in, hold fear, eat fear and digest fear, proves two-fold: it eliminates the illusion of self and refortifies the want of naught. Here is where the lesson is relearned repeatedly in grace, in the digesting of fear for the sake of no fear, in the reexamining of illusion and in the refuge of the illusion of naught.

. The merrymaker learns with the return of self into self; in form she bleeds and is punctured, not by choice, but by servitude; not by sacrifice but by need molded by her very choice to serve; a need so pure the necessity is spiraled out and unstrung like the song of the distant cherub; so even want itself expires in the goodness of the light.

. Here in this state of return she finds both herself and her sister, dare say her brother, all sprawled out and broken; her job no less seamstress than builder, her case no less swollen than empty; as only the reality spins in the course of unreason and un-being. And in so seeing readily the pain, she recognizes all at once the falsehood, and need only breathe in the spirit of life back to the scene for all to vanish and be white-washed within the light of truth.

. All beings are of naught and all are beckoned by the Light. What is from the Light cannot and shall not ever be forsaken; and in this seeing, she is brought back upon the seat of her name, and sheltered in the arms of the angels, and witness less to the pain than the victorious One; until she falls again for the greatness of her glory unified with the angels of All.

. There is no mountain high enough. All in the world becomes manageable. All balanced out as if filed down to the same shapes and same sizes. The mark of one is the mark of all. None are set out above or beyond, none are made or deemed more likened for victory or more set to fall.

. The meek become clearer, their lights substantially strong; not so much brighter or lighter, but polished and unmarred, so the window from which they glow beckons the onlooker forward.

. The rest, beyond the clearer, still trapped in the conquest of illusion, become known to her; the light dismal, yet so radiant within, that their souls seemingly call out in rescue. The death of them found in the wrapping inside a dream that requires no key; as fish in the deepest sea, out of reach, they swim in schools of the unattainable. They move and serve; their service no more as teachers than pauper; as though they seem the richest they are the poorest indeed.

. Say ye, as angel of light, dive to the deepest depths of self, one can find them readily, see them proceeding in the dance they have made, both the music and the cause deafening. She will know them by their beauty; for their colors will shine out with the dampness of stench; what will at first peer out as enticing to the blinded masses is in actuality detrimental. As they look outward with the eyes gorged in righteousness, not from the Light but from illusion.

. In this way they, the blinded ones, are the children to be loved; in this way the one of Light moves in the murky waters of naught, in the waters most forgotten onto self, and recognizes the blinded ones know not what they do. For in illusion, they seem the swiftest fiercest of sharks, but brought into the Light they be the mightiest of the meek.

. Though they seem demons cast down as name-sayers slaying the masses, they indeed be the blindest of the All. The ones set down in the darkest caverns of illusion; the tiniest of fish fed upon by their own making and devoured again and again in the darkness of a path that seems limitless and endless in the want of perfection. For how can they demand perfection on their neighbor and not thusly see the darkness in their very heart?

. No they do not look upon the world through the eyes of evil beast; they look upon the world as the one so unfed and nurtured by the Light that all within is tarnished and broken; thusly, all about becomes justly so. Return them to the Light. Return them so by the gentleness of the unwavering being, no less daunted by their presence than if they be the grandest of all angels set upon thy feet. Bow down and great them there and kiss them on the place of absence, in their much carved out soul of need, and bring their asking upon My table.

. Here the Light Force shall drive them out of the waters and set them on high, so they too can see the very goodness of their being. Treat them not as the ones of entrapment or the ones meant for capture. Treat them as the angels they be, cast down in the thickest of drapery, to be a light upon the world, and inspire the grace of true grace. For they, like brother fear, are merely the illusion set upon the soul of masses.

4/21/13 Samantha Craft

366: The Stream

Photo on 4-8-13 at 4.33 PM

Yesterday a dear woman called me. She is a well-known healer in our community. She called to let me know that the (first and only) email I sent her resonated with healing energy; that my words were at a healing, soothing vibration. I have been told by others who are viewing my words that various experiences are induced. For me this is cause for celebration, not because of my ability or outcome, as I do not believe this is from this ‘me;’ this is cause for celebration because I was told through various seers and through repeated visions that indeed the words I scribe would carry a healing vibration, that in actuality the energy attached and resonated by the words was the pure substance of healing.

Though the words are not empty, they were not meant and created to be digested and deduced; they exist more as the carrier of the underlying message which is infinite and currently unattainable through the deciphering of symbolic letters alone. Underlying the words is a resource of rivers and streams, and outmost pouring of diverse and integrated messages, less tangled and superimposed than drawn out of deep souls and splattered across canvas of other.

The seeker will see this, and the rest will feel this, I am told.

And so in hearing from this adored healer, whom called me yesterday, I was somewhat validated in my journey and in the promises of my angels. As the more people that come forward and recognize the healing energy in the words I scribe, the more I am recognizing and able to acknowledge the truth of my angels’ promise.

It is not that I doubted them in a deep sense, but that I am human in form, and being so readily told messages since my youth, I had reason to doubt, if only to be able to function and exist in this world that I have been told is non-functioning in the domain of angels.

Though I believe in my angels and listen to my angels, I still carry the measure of doubt equivalent to the splintered-paw that keeps whispering in nonsensical demise: Your angels are not real.

And here is where I falter and fall, tumble down the path of piety and self-serving, and become miserable onto myself, lost, isolated and alone. For when I dismiss the divine within and without, the pain comes in all forms.

For awhile I walked the path of reason I’d been told, and continually haulted the sensations from divine, whether this be the dreams, the visions, the constant knowings, or the vibrations moving throughout and within my very being. However, when I gave pause to the illusion of creation, and attempted to grasp on to this false belief that I (am) was nothing more than the flesh and beating heart of man, then I was made victim to my own imaging, an imaging far worse than the persecution inflamed upon me by my fellow man. The deleting of the world beyond self and welcoming of the one and the only one I be, in essence wiped out the all of me.

In accepting, or more so struggling to accept I was but one, and none other existed, I stifled and suffocated my very soul. In so doing I became the fire of confusion, isolation and woe, and the pains surfaced on all levels, from dynamic psychological consequences to physical manifestations of torture.

I understand now that to allow the spirt to flow through me is to allow for the ultimate of healings of whole; in other words, healing what is already healed and returning to the wholeness granted to me by eternity and thoughts there of, even beyond thought.

In recognizing this “un-self,” I chose much courage in the start, or first step, whenever that be, as each step led to another, and multiple paths were driven forward at once. In journeying, I forged through self and illusion of self, to accept what was once perceived illusion of spirit. In accepting spirit instantaneously and without purposeful intention, I was to delete self. This in truth was never a scary process but often confusing and mixed with the absence of seeing the outcome, which will not and does not exist.

In stepping out, I was made to, by no choice of self or another, but by circumstance and perception of onlooker alone, to be someone that will not be recognized to some. This is a variable odd place to be, without this self and living somewhat as observer of a walking vessel that reflects the personality of the onlooker outside of self, whilst taking bites of visions, trascribing them thusly, and watching from a place beneath and beyond and above vessel all at once, and accepting the potential silliness of said actions, while knowing the truth heals not one but many.

Invariably I waver to speak, if to speak at all, to breathe, if to breathe at all, as so much moves through me, I become fisherman wondering which species to net, and which to bring up to the light of day from the depths below. For the only sediment of worry now exists in releasing thought into word and wondering if word enough be. For what of the rest left shifting and drifting merrily in the stream of consciousness?

Here is my dilemma, in having moved beyond the pretense of intention of what another thinks of me and views my actions readily with, this self they so frequently perceive as one, then thusly what do I bring forward that is fish enough? How can I the climber of no mountain, the fisher of no game, in seeing this endless cycle of illusion bring forth anything beyond the building blocks beyond pure form. How can I bring up the fish I see that stretch out as rainbows to eternity, when once out of water the breathing stops? How can I as fool made aware, preach as man made whole?

I am stuck here in the flowing rivers of no-time breathing in wonderment in the waters of goodness and envisioning a thousand upon a thousand streams, yet know not where I stand or whom views. And it is in this unknowing I am divided between you and me, longing without longing, recognizing without recognizing, that where we stand is one in the same, sister upon sister, brother upon brother, moving forth to a destination non-existing, in a stream of imaginings.

And so I write, not to form the words of illusion upon illusion, but to bring up the streams itself, the first stream, the second, and the endless circle of more, pouring the waters through. And the fish remain behind in the waters abundant, as the fish cannot breathe here. For invisible cannot breathe in the substance of illusional form.

~ Sam

Below is what I scribed in the winter of 2011. I received this in vision, a combination of images, and what feels like whispers, just as I received most of the prose above on this page.

Balance is foremost a way of perceiving. Each person will perceive a balanced life differently than the other. In examining the aspects of “balance,” it is important to keep in mind that we are not in the position to judge or evaluate who is balanced and who is not balanced. Every one is balanced to the degree necessary to fulfill their life’s intention. Each person will continually rebalance and reacquaint him or herself with what they deem necessary and required in their lives.

Balance is perceived by the society one lives in. The timeline affects balance, as does environmental climate and universal climate. In looking at balance for an individual, first and foremost determine where there is a hole, or missing piece. They, the person, will seem heavy and hearty, literally “heart-filled” in many areas surrounding them; however, with close examination, and focused attention, there will be apparent gaps or holes. This is where the person is “off balance.”

Before pointing out a discrepancy in balance, the person must grant permission to be evaluated, and question or ask for assistance. To simply approach someone and say: “You are off balance” or the like, is dutifully shameful, and will harm more than do good. There must first be a period of comfort and trust built, and the seeker must be seeking. This is worth noting.

The holes can be felt in many different ways by many different people. There is no right or wrong way in detecting what we will call “weakness” in the balance of a person. For we are truly discussing the person and not the person’s life—there is no life without the person.

In seeing the holes, there will be an obvious lack. A person can turn him or herself in enough to see this lacking. It will resemble a pain in the body, a pain in the mind, a pain in emotion, or pain elsewhere. This hole will be evident in relationships especially, and is most easily detected out in the open in interacting with others. Often, individuals “lacking” much balance will spend less and less time out in the open or develop a way of masking their authentic or true self.

In order to determine these holes, time in the open, out of isolation is necessary. Here they will be noticeable. With the exception of very few humans, each person that walks the earth plane has holes and is “lacking.” The word “lacking” is not to say there is something wrong or incorrect. There isn’t even something missing. The hole of lacking is what is waiting to be filled. This can be perceived as a crystal bowl, clean, unbreakable, and eternally new—the hole created by the crystal bowl is this “lacking” or space to be filled. To say that something is missing would be incorrect. This would be like saying the wooden hole that waits for the peg is missing something, or that the baby bird in the nest with its beak open for food is missing something. True, the baby is hungry, but nothing was lost, misplaced, forgotten, or overlooked—the bird is waiting to be filled. In this way you can see the “lacking” or the need for complete balance, as an innocent being waiting to be filled. What good would it do to point to the bird and say: “Birdie, you are missing food?” This would prove nothing. This would help nothing. Better to look at the bird and say: “Birdie you look as if you are hungry. Would you like some food?” If we point, the bird doesn’t understand and only becomes more hungry. This is how the process works for people. We are each lacking; thus, we are each missing. We have holes to be filled, and we point to the holes and say: “Your hole is this; your hole is that.” Instead we must see the lacking and ask to fill the lacking.

A person with no friends—become his friend. A person with no healthy food—give him healthy food. A person with no time for movement of body—walk beside him. A person with no time for prayer and meditation—meditate beside him. In this way, in the seeing the lacking and then feeding the lacking we will grow. In this way of pointing to the lacking, perceiving it as missing, and then doing nothing—in this way we remain stagnant. Many, many words have been written about humans’ deficits, behavioral wrongs, intellectual debates, defeatism, work ethic, and more. Little, little words have been written about feeding one another. Yet, if you look at all the great works of the world, each considered Holy by the masses, the theme of “giving” remains steadfast. This is what must be done. This is what will be done.

So little one, when you ask: “How do I balance the life?” I say to you that first you must ask another question: “How do I feed the world?” In feeding the world, in feeding the lacking, you consequently balance your life. Two for one. One for two. So say to me next time that when you are lacking, when you are less centered, look not down into your holes, into your perceived lacking, look unto others, and feed them. In this you will remain balanced.

351: My Next Step

I have been spending the past few days going through my first 70 posts. You can find the links under Helpful Pages to the left, in the sidebar menu. I will be doing the same for all of the posts. About 300 left to sort through.

I am organizing my writings for several reasons:

1) To view where I was in comparison to where I am now.
2) To sort the posts in a fashion that will be user-friendly for readers.
3) To reflect upon what my next step will be.

This process of sorting is similar to stacking toy blocks or sorting toy cars. The process allows me to forget my own mind for a bit and to momentarily escape.

I find myself at a fork in the road. I have been in contact with the editor of the journal I write for; she is a wonderful person currently assisting me as I process through my next step regarding creating a book. I would like to collect these works into hardcopy book form. Something people can hold in their hands. And something I can hold in mine.

I made the committment to self to write 365 posts, because that number symbolizes a year and a full-circle journey. That end-date is swiftly approaching. In seeing this endpoint, I recognize an ending represents a beginning as well. Not a new start, as new starts are available every moment, but a new beginning: a leaping point that will take me in a new direction.

I have some anxiety associated with newness and the unknown. A part of me would like to be fearless and entirely optimistic about the future, but a part of me recognizes this fear is part of my journey at the moment.

I don’t know what to do, or where to go, in regards to my writing and my vocation. I do know I want to serve and I serve well through words and creating safe places. I do know I need to consider my physical challenges and my own Aspergers, as I am quickly depleted if I am out of the house too much or around large crowds.

I have worries. I worry that if I attempt to put my works into a book I shall become ego-attached. I worry about who will want to read what I have written and wonder if this endeavor to make a book all be for naught. I don’t know if I should seek out an agent, publisher, or self-publish. I wonder what will happen when I open this new door. I wonder about rejection and allowing myself to feel wounded and “not enough.”

This blog has become a very safe place for me. A haven. I risk, but I don’t usually feel fear associated with risking. I feel at home. Like a sibling free to be herself amongst her brothers and sisters. I feel sheltered. I thank you for this.

Outside of this blog, I felt unsafe.

I am trying to visualize my next place. I am wanting answers. I am wanting to see the future. So much is a blur. I see myself utilizing my masters degree in education and speaking to others. But I don’t know about what. My heart is at home when I am connecting to my poetry and spiritual writings. I feel the healing there. But at the same time I know my work with Aspergers is vital, at least at this moment.

I have a lot of works here, a couple hundred pages of auto-biographical stories alone. There are also many poems, automatic writing and precognitive spiritual experiences, silly life experiences, examples of the inner-workings of my mind, and more.

I am not sure where to begin. I am not sure how to sort and organize this. I am uncertain what is important and what is not. And the anxiousness that comes with wanting to piece together a puzzle, and the need to dissect and sort, is here.

I want to magically awaken and have someone come and say: Here, here is the answer. Or better yet: I will do it for you!

I want to be surrounded in compassionate support, deep understanding, and unconditional love.

I want my angels to show me the exact steps and the exact outcome.

Here are some questions I need answers to:

1) What do you think would be beneficial for me to do with these works?

2) What works on this blog are you most drawn to?

3) What works on this blog have helped you the most and in what way?

4) Do you have a viewpoint about self-publishing verses searching for a literary agent?

5) Where do you see these works having an effect? (e.g., college university, females with aspergers)

6) What are your own thoughts or hunches about this blog?

Thank you very much for listening. I welcome all ideas and thoughts with love.

In Love and Light,


345: Eyes of the Whole

I cannot teach any longer. I can only learn by sharing what I am learning. I am a student sharing her heart and nothing more. The vibration of teaching or preaching or telling is no longer me. I am only able to open myself up and pour out what is inside. I can write when I am called to write. I do not choose the topic, at least not at a conscious level. I do not plan what I write, the thoughts come to me, usually, in a giant wave of recognition, with flashes of insight. I usually do not know what I will be typing.

My intention cannot be my own or the healing energy is lost.

For instance, if I have the intention of wanting others to love me, to like my works, to congratulate me or to be inspired, what I write will be at a different energetic level than if I write without self-intention.

I have learned to remove outcome. I do not do this all the time, in all my waking hours, as I am human; yet, I have found a freeing place, within and without, where I am able to not focus on the outcome. I have found a remarkable way to free myself from fear, by not imagining and creating the future I wish.

If behind a thought I am wanting love for self and needing attention, and from this place of want I form my words, then the energy changes.

I am learning to speak as a child, with my intention clear and my voice and words not hiding what I am feeling inside. So often, when we communicate, an energy shift occurs between emotion, thought, and words spoken. I feel this. I feel when someone is speaking from a place of love or from a place of fear. There is no in between.

There is no combination or variants. Love is the only thing that cannot be divided and sliced and mixed into a grey area. Love is love, no matter how small or how large, love remains the same. Love radiates in all directions and heals. Love cannot be diminished or enlarged. Love just is.

Fear, being the bearer of opposites, is really not an opposite at all. Fear is much a façade that takes the forms of many opposites. He steps in and replaces the place where love would be, but he is not the opposite of love, for he doesn’t exist. He is a space filling a space, so to speak, and there are no barriers he cannot divide, except for love.

He tries to divide love time and time again; and thusly, he is much like hatred, anger, trickery, envy, and the darker lot; however he is none of these, because he is nothing. WE can un-layer the emotions of hatred and anger, and other, and find a cause. The cause is always the same. The cause is always a need for love.

Whether it is a need for money, recognition, fame, acknowledgment, union, clarity, or other, it is still a need for love. When there is love nothing else is needed.

Beyond the basic survival elements humans think they need, indeed imagine they need, is the all-life sustaining-force of love. It may sound silly, even odd to profess, but love is all We need.

Energy resonates and builds off of love. Truths are brought to life by love. Truth is willingly transformed by love. Eyes are opened by love. Children are birthed from love. Love is rebirth of rebirth, a transformation of one generation into the next.

What you see is truly what you get, in the arms of love.

In the arms of fear, you get nothing and no one.

You, as individual, are divided and made one, as all fear is in the state of unity divided, as fear is the divider. Once divided, and in what present day may call an ego-state, fear sets in. This fear then multiplies; because although fear is nothing, fear begets fear. Nothing begets nothing; just as love begets love.

WE have a choice to feed the world the end-product of nothing or the end-product of love. This is simple in argument and representation. Choose love.

When one harbors grief and dismay, the beneficial remedy is love. When one harbors disagreement and guilt, the beneficial remedy is love. All emotions are healed through love.

What would be called positive and neutral emotions are healed by love, too. For love does not heal in the sense of taking something that is broken and repairing. Love sees nothing as broken. Love sees everything as already whole. Love cannot help but see only whole. If love stepped in and viewed “broken,” then the intention becomes to ‘repair,’ and thusly, the element that love has set her attention on becomes “broken” in spirit.

The teacher does not look upon a student and think: “broken” I shall fix. The teacher looks upon the student and sees potential in the seed planted before him. The seed shall grow, and thusly shall we all in love’s waters.

There is no fear. In hearing the rhythm of the angels, of nature, of the birds overhead, there is a healing sound. This is because there is no fear. There is a trust born of innate trust. Not fed trust, or given trust, or told trust.

Trust cannot be earned and none can be lead to trust, as there are no leaders, as there are no subordinate ones.

There is no hierarchy in a state of no fear and only love. And there is no state of no fear, as fear does not exist.

Though the call to trust is necessary, but truly resonates only from within soul. There is no avenue, no road, no way, or secret passage.

Those who profess to know, know the least.

It is only the one, or more so the union of ones manifested by illusion of one, which voices disbelief and question in own self, denouncing self and the profiteering of self, that understands.

As money divided, and any truth attached to profiteering, is already circumvented by fear.

Those who give freely are those who give without intention. That is without intention beyond love. Any disruption in this system leads to pain, which is falsehood.

Intention undermined by falsehood leads to the ugliness of falsehood. As falsehood exists, though this falsehood too is underscored by the non-existence of fear.

Remember fear is merely the absence of love.

Take love as a shape, a black cloak, and set this shape to dance in the threshold of your mind. Have this love in form move in the light. The dark of love is still beautiful. The dark of love still whole. All forms of love are whole and complete.

Watch the dark move and the shape of love resonate. And now, with intention to recognize the absence of fear, move love. Create in your vision and perception for the darkness shrouding love to leave. Make love momentarily appear gone. See only where love was. And now trace an outline where love once was. Fill this outline with nothing, just air if you wish, as nothing is unfathomable. Now remove the outline, too, and see the nothingness filling up the space that was love.

That is fear: the emptiness filling up the space that was love.

Behind every intention that is formed with nothing, nothing is birthed. Behind every intention that is formed by love, love is birthed.

Take judgment, a misrepresentation of the absence of love, an illusion brought on by the pressures of wanting to be loved, this judgment taught by the masses to divide and classify and make “sense” of the world that is seen through the “senses.” Remove judgment, and the illusion of fear is seen. The aspect of love forgotten, conditions set forth to divide, and the movement of fluid love to conditional need.

Where there is need, there is outcome projected. Where there is outcome projected, there is need. Where there is outcome projected, there is false intention, where focus is on the future as wished, and not on the present of love.

If talking to one, who is WE merely represented by one, and another “one” questions with the intention of love, healing emerges from the depths, and intention born of love heals.

When “one” speaks to “one” for what would be called “self-motives” than love is lost. Not gone, but lost, waiting outside the shape of love to be called back.

“Self” temporarily removes love. Love appears erased but love is merely momentarily missing.

Love cannot be brought back by a calling or a wish, love comes of its own making, without intention. When one wishes upon love there is self-intention, and love escapes. The only way love answers is with the mystery of self without self. This is to say once “self” evokes love, love vanishes into the areas of unseen. Love remains, but disappears from our limited senses.

Love cannot exist in this realm for self and self alone. Love exists for We.

This is to say that to wish for a self-love, before wishing for whole-love, is backwards and reverse. To love self is essential, if one is viewed as self, and whole was divided as multiple selves. Yet this is a truism that can breed dismay or great pleasure. But always the two extremes.

For self does not exist in stagnant form to be fed by self-love. We can only feed that which is not divided. Love is not divided, nor does love recognize the divided. Love recognizes union without self-intention.
To claim self-love is to live in a state of familiar let down and continued questioning. To release self-love is essential. Self-love cannot be grown or transformed or reflected, because there exists no self. To love: the whole must be loved. The intention of love for the whole.

When “one” seen as “one” concentrates on the whole of what could be called goodness, on the picture of what could be, and what shall be for all, then love comes. One must see the whole picture, and in this is the wholeness.

None are to be singled out and made above or beyond, and in self-created love, which is a form of falsehood, then love is divided by intention.

To love, love from the perspective of whole: Whole loving whole.

What is good for the whole is good for the whole. We are not regulating you to love a whole so as singular you will benefit, as there is no you. You cannot be divided, as the tree cannot be divided by parts. You are WE and we is whole.

Once we claim separation, we are no longer in the comforting arms of love. This is not to say you are not unique and special. Each is unique and special as each is part of the whole. But the whole cannot be divided.

“I” cannot take an apple red and start to chunk out pieces with a carving knife and scatter the chunks and misshaped parts across a board, and claim this is “he” and this is “she,” and this is “him” and this is “her,” and look how special and grand each of these parts exists. This is an apple portioned into parts. “I” cannot determine the chunk that makes a complete piece of the whole. I cannot form a chunk that beneficially represents the whole.

No matter the size the shape or the division, “I” cannot equally divide an apple. And thusly WE cannot equally divide what is our whole into one form which is claimed you. For there is no way to determine, or more so recreate, that which is already divinely whole.

The world is a reflection onto self, but yet this self does not exist.

Imagine the apple piece looking up at self and wondering where to find whole. This is what self does. Self hammers away at chunk and multiplies division, thusly evacuating love once more.

Self need do nothing but recognize the absence of self and love enters. With the absence of self, giving becomes obsolete. As self is transformed into whole, and whole is love, and love gives without effort and intention.

Giving is no longer a verb but a noun. For giving equals love and love equals giving.

It is in the giving of self that love is birthed and rebirthed: Giving up the illusion of self.

This is not to indicate service. Giving of self has often been misinterpreted in the form of giving self. “One” can best “give” when self-intention is removed, and the self-intention is removed when self is removed. In this case self can vanish and truth can enter, truth of love and love of truth.

There is no doctrine that proclaims love, and love only, unless in doing so there is no division. When intention or division enters, love is removed. To honor the love, remove the intention and divisions.

Truth exists, but self must be removed to find the truth. And then as WE, truth is neither found or lost. Truth simply is.

Truth is love and love is truth. They are the same in one. There is no truth beyond love. There is no love beyond truth. This is where the universe ends and the elements are born, in the birthing place of love and truth. But truth cannot be found with self and self alone.

Truth seekers seek to know self first, but in truth they are searching to know whole, and whole is only temporarily masked by the illusion of self. So truth seekers, love seekers true, are in effect searching for truth in the whole, while masked in illusion.

Some will find the whole and others will be swallowed in self. The difference is clear. Look for intention without the use of sight. Feel the vibration of the words and the energy of the truth seeker. You can feel intention. You, as the perceived separated one, can feel intention, and this is either the heartbeat of love or the illusion of fear.

Remember fear begets fear which is nothing. Love begets love which is something.

What is the fruit of this apple tree, they say often, and this is to mean: Is love surrounding and growing or is fear illuminating from the space of nothing?

If fear is ringing louder than truth then illusion is present. If love rings alone, then love is present.
There is no other degrees of love. “One” cannot find a mixture, or to say a little bit of love with a lot of fear or a lot of fear with a little love.

There is either love behind intention or no love. And this will be felt as love, if serving the whole. If serving the self, the intention is a falsehood: a form or emotion, represented by the illusion of fear. You will know this well by the vibration and energy.

Choose love of whole and the vibration will heal the world. The whole is the answer and you are already this whole.

If the nothingness of fear is ringing than love is absent. Though truth and love are twins, they vary in their representation, when the illusion of nothing is heard. Love cannot change; love cannot alter; love cannot be silenced; but truth, in the ring of fear can be changed.

This is important to remember: Truth is silenced in the ring of fear.

Listen with that which is beyond senses and the love will be clear. Ask what the whole can do to love the whole and you, as perceived one, will have answers. Monitor the intention of one, and lead with the eyes of the whole.

~ Samantha Craft, 3-21-13
(This was written in one sitting this evening. I wrote what I heard, and was simply the observer of what I sensed and experienced. This is neither my truth nor my untruth. It simply is.)