Thursday, August 07, 2008


I realized this morning, as I was sitting at my desk under the light of my small silver lamp, that I have built most of my days on the flimsiest of foundations. A day, when I think about it, is a very important “structure” (I build one every 24 hours), and should therefore be constructed on substantial materials – materials that will support a day in even the worst circumstances. It’s strange, then, that I have built most of my days on rather undefined and random foundations. Actually, you might say I haven’t even consciously built my days, but rather just “thrown them together”, in the same way that my friends and I used to throw flimsy “club houses” together when we were twelve. I’m fortunate that most of my days haven’t collapsed in ruin by noon. (Actually, quite a few of them did.) The good news is that today, and every day from here on, I have the lucky opportunity to carefully construct a day on a foundation that will be secure and reliable. In the early morning, as I do my reading and writing, I can lay out a solid, unshakeable underpinning upon which to rest each hour, each moment, of the day. I can take my time and make certain that each element of the groundwork is securely in place to insure a “weatherproof”, enduring structure. And what is this foundation? It’s simply the Truth. All I have to do is rest today on the great facts of reality – that all power resides in the present moment, that this power is totally mental, not material, and that this power is infinite and therefore unopposed. If I set each hour on that rock-hard truth, I can’t help but experience a day that’s impressive in its grandeur and beauty.

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