By our very nature we seem to be mere fragments of the whole. This imaginary fragmentation is our service to reality.

Reality allows within itself unreality, just as being allows our unreal individualities. Unreality is variety of illusion. And so, through us the universe of illusory experiences unfolds as this infinite variety.

But we are only temporary things. As our ephemeral lives are exhausted by one way or another, we are endlessly collapsing into ecstatic awareness of what truly is.

In those last moments of imaginary time, however it may happen, we turn to look back at our history and we see everything within as divinely beautiful after all -- all of it, unimaginably so.

And so we come to know the same again and again in every possible way in this infinite play of unreality: the ecstatic beauty of every moment of every memory.

For such a small price, this universe is created for and in service to limitless being.

Deep within ourselves we already know this. It is the deepest of the memories that we already have within us, a background of endlessly returning to the unmoving reality of everything. And so we always do the best we can, without exception, regardless of how we judge ourselves or judge each other along the way. Regardless of what we regret or what we fear. It is what we are made to do.

It is like breathing out and breathing in. We breathe out the creation of us, and we breathe in infinite enjoyment of remembering we are the self-aware reality of everything.