Happiness is a funny thing.
Some people think that stuff will make you happy...or bring happiness. Others think that it will be money. Or the perfect job. Or the perfect wife. Or the perfect life.
But life isn't perfect. Not even by a long shot.
Except that it is.
Life is perfect in its imperfections.
Meaning that nothing is ever going to go 100% smoothly. And its not supposed to.
What is happening now, has happened, will happen. Is all as it is.
I'm not saying that it's meant to be. Because that implies some force guiding it.
Life is a series of infinite choices and results all being played out simultaneously...
Time is the illusion. Time exists so that the brain can actually process the choice and result of the particular thread we are following in the tapestry this time.
I firmly believe that each of us plays out the entire spectrum. There is a universe at this moment where I was the high school football star who now sells insurance because I blew out my knee in the big college game before I had a chance to turn pro.
There's a universe where I am a successful neurosurgeon. An astronaut. A rock star. Famous director. Even more famous actor. Fireman. Police Detective. War hero.
Did you ever wonder how children can imagine those roles...those make believe lives so easily?? How when you ask a child what it wants to be when it grows up, they have a multitude of answers and can tell you with almost prophetic precision how that's going to all play out.
Did you ever stop to figure out how they can do that? It is a gift, to be sure. They are closer to the universal consciousness as children than most of us are now. I say most, because there are a few among us who haven't transcended (yet) , or have and have decided to come back to help us all along in this plane of existence.
That child may or may not have a great imagination, but they for sure can see how that life has already played out (again, because the 'passage of time' is a mental construct--like a universal game of Sudoku--only on a much grander scale. In other words, they are seeing those other infinite choices. All at once. And as they go through life, they set things in motion for their lives to be one of those 'imaginary' lives they saw.
It's all actually quite brilliant. And flawless. Not perfect, but imperfect. And perfect in its imperfection.
I'm pretty sure this life is the one where I'm a successful writer...New York Times Bestselling Author...or something.
Time to get to it.
*Note: This will make more sense after you read the guest post on the Books By Violet Blog. Hang tight until then my regular readers. Fo...
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