A Letter to a Friend…
If it’s Goddard or Osho or A Course in Miracles that inspires you to think vertically, that’s wonderful. For me, it was Edgar Cayce who first opened that door. His way of describing the visible and invisible gave me a kind of peace I hadn’t known before. It showed me that inspiration is always there, quietly waiting to be noticed, and that when we shift our vibration, we seem to land in a gentler version of reality—where people and circumstances reflect more light and kindness back to us.

It’s no coincidence that the ARE library is not only the home of the Cayce files but also the place where the Urtext of A Course in Miracles was kept. For me, that overlap feels like a quiet reminder that these teachings—Cayce, ACIM, and Goddard too—are all pointing in the same direction, each in their own language.

The trick, I’ve found, is staying aware of that higher frequency and recovering quickly when I drop down. And of course, the breath is what helps me most with that—simple, steady, always there to bring me back.

I don’t pretend to understand physics, but I notice how some of its language resonates—superposition, infinite possibilities, timelines that aren’t quite fixed. Even little glimpses like the Mandela effect seem to suggest that reality is less rigid than we once thought.

What I take from all this isn’t certainty but wonder. The marvel to me is that creation can be both finished and ever-unfolding, like walking into an endless library where every book is already written, yet each page feels new the moment you turn it.

It reassures me that joy, peace, and love are never absent. They don’t have to be created—they’re already inscribed in the fabric of things, waiting for us to notice them again.