Friends, don’t come to Eureka Springs thinking I can help you. Don’t come thinking I have a job for you, that I have deep pockets, that I have some great ministry or school, or wisdom beyond the ages. I’m simply me, an old man, 75. I drink coffee and take walks, and I love life, and I speak it. It is i.
I tell you, I promise you, it will not be easy if you come here. It will be work. Or are we no longer the judgment of using a criteria of flesh to judge all things equal with the manner of men; not, or are you rising above the laws of the flesh? Will you do the works, the mighty miracles? Will you sever a lot of connections to be the real you?I don’t have deep pockets. I don’t have any revenue stream at all from what I do. But I am not limited to what you see, for I am faithful, not, I am religious no more.
You see, if you come here, I don’t have all of the answers. I will not have all of your answers, and I will disappoint you, probably. You think I know more than you? Or will you connect to the same source, the same privilege, being the equal me all of the angels are, no longer connected to what we are limiting ourselves of?
There is a community of believers, not, but becomers, common people, craftsmen, artisans, musicians of every nature, every nation, tribe, and tongue, no longer limited to the Babelese of you, what you learned to speak at the Tower of Babel, supposedly. Or will you change your communication system and see how it is i who comes forth when you don’t segment me from you? I am the energy of one, not proposing sorrow.
And I teach like this upon the hillside, not with the classes of sorrow nor appointments of. I’m just here as I am. Maybe I’ll be here if you come, maybe not. But don’t depend on me for a job, for work, housing.
I’m a reporter, not, or am I a prophesier? Or have you read my prophecies? Are you looking through yours now? Are you writing them with the first person, me-words, words of me, Meonics, the breath of God, no longer the devil, studying the separation are you no more, or will you bequeath you no more to sorrow, seeking the legacy of?
have, over and over, every day, and withheld nothing from you. Be my energy. Heal the girls, heal the children, lead the boys to no more embrace sorrow. Lead us all out. Heal your church, not, never needed again. Be the learning system of one. Heal your mind, not your soul. Heal your love, and love love, live love, love live, and ski with me!
A boat I do not have, but maybe I won’t need one. The lakes are great. Eureka is a fine place, a little town, tourist town. Not many jobs here, or will you create one, or will you—what’s that you say? Speak up!
Write me and see your energy flow the ink on the page, and do what is righteous to you in the love of one where you’re no longer looking to a God, a man, a job. Be the real you, and let your energy direct you, not, but your love, and the infamy of you shall go far and wide to be the resurrection I am. All, it is i. I am one.
I bow before you this day and I’m no longer the appointee of your sorrow. I’m not the elector of your dreams, nor the elixir of your breath. I’m the most excellent me, not. I am a common man, a teacher. So don’t come to be me, but if you come, come to be the real you. Love you, honor you, feel your power, and let it come through your pen to share your love without the immaculate deception deceiving you anymore that there is a God of other, superior of. Be the equal me with you, and let us no longer segment our sorrow, nor classify our dreams into the future. Be the me today, the real me. Love you, honor you. It is i who is one.
The School of One arises. Be here if you must. I never said it would be easy, but I said you will find me inside of you when you let me speak and teach I am to be. It is i, again, the One.
Good day. See ya, friends. You decide. I love you all. Be the real you.
Grace Cottingham
The School of One
Box 34, Eureka Springs, Arkansas 72632 USA