Review 16. I have no neutral thoughts. It is time for maturity. Maturity begins by realizing who I am, what is true and what is false. This is wisdom. Maturity lives from wisdom.

Review 11. My meaningless thoughts are showing me a meaningless world. When I see with the mind, I am lost in an individualistic illusion that has no meaning at all. When I see with the heart, I am in communication with my true Self. When I am in communication with my true Self, I know my real thoughts. My real thoughts are meaning.

My real thoughts have a different quality than meaningless thoughts.

Meaningless thoughts are stories—maybe that is why they are so entertaining, but I want to remember that when the quality is story, the thought is not true. Story is individual interpretation, based on the scribbles inside the box. Highly individualized, these stories have no meaning at all.

My real thoughts are more like attitudes or a general environment in which everything is seen. My real thoughts include all-is-well (peace), open-embracing-acceptance (love), an inherent sense freedom—a sense of soaring from within (joy), intimacy with everything (oneness), and compassion for anyone who suffers because of belief in the box.

Review 12. I am upset because I see a meaningless world. Whenever I am not at peace, I am believing the box. Remembering this is enough to shift me from belief in the box to my real thoughts.

My real thoughts include compassion for myself, open-embracing-acceptance of what is, and the realization that all is well. By resting in these realizations, I rest in my real thoughts. As I rest in my real thoughts, I remember what is true, because my real thoughts are true.

Review 13. A meaningless world engenders fear. One idea written inside the box is that its stories are meaning. When I believe this idea, I draw a sense of security from the box. I believe that staying in the box is safety. I believe anything outside of the box is dangerous.

I want to overcome this backwards thought. There isn’t safety in the box. The story that is playing now may seem like a good one, but it is fragile. Good can turn to bad in an instant in the box. Look at the box honestly.

Eternal peace-life-love is realized only by abandoning the box.

This is my prayer:

Let me overcome my attraction to the box and realize all-encompassing love for the truth that is known when the box is removed.

Review 14. God did not create a meaningless world. I can have confidence that if I want it, the box will be removed. I can have confidence in that because the box is not true. It remains on my head only because I am holding it there. If I let go, a wind will come and blow the box away.

My job is to learn not to reach for the box, so that the wind can blow it away. I am ready to learn that lesson now. My readiness is demonstrated by consistently letting go of the box.

Review 15. My thoughts are images I have made. I have drawn what’s inside the box by being interested in the box’s drawings. As I stare at the drawings that are already there, the drawings multiply.

I have two choices. I can continue to be fascinated with the box, and the automatic scribbling will continue. Or I can let go of the box and discover the freedom of the endless world outside of the box.

Which choice do I want? Which choice makes sense?

When I see the world through my individual point of view, I see an individual world. No one else sees a world exactly like the world I see. It is as if each of us is walking around with a box on our head. Our unique worlds are drawn on the inside of our boxes, and that is all we see. We argue that we are right about our points of view, but we are not right. We are blind. In order to see, we need to take the boxes off of our heads.

Whenever I am upset, it is because I am looking at the inside of my box. There isn’t a single exception to this statement. Some ideas may be drawn inside my box in bold colors, and I mistake them as important because of their boldness, but I am looking at a colored box. The box deceives me.

Some people may have a few ideas written on the inside of their boxes that are similar to some ideas I have written inside mine, and if we get together and compare what we see, we agree that we are right; but that does not change the fact that we are each looking at a limited colored box. Our boxes deceive us.

If we took our boxes off, cut them open and laid them flat on the ground so we could see everything written on them, and then we took all of the boxes on everyone’s heads and did the same, we would be amazed at the ideas and stories that colored the vision of each individual person. Instead of being angry at those who disagreed with us, we would have compassion. “Oh,” we would say, “That is why you felt that way. I see the writing on your box. I understand now.”

The writing inside my box started with a single idea scratched upon its surface. “I.” As I stared at the one idea inside my box, I bumped into someone, and another idea was scrawled inside my box. “Other.” I held something soft and pleasurable in my hands, and then felt the “other” take it from me. “Mine,” “victim” and “defend” appeared on the box. And in this way, the ideas multiplied until a complex web of ideas colored the inside of my box, all birthed out of the original idea, “I”.

This box has become its own little universe. It is filled with so many ideas, that it entertains me all day everyday and all night every night. With so much entertainment coming from the box, I have lost the sense of curiosity about the outside world. I have become so accustomed to the dark that I no longer crave the light.

With the box on my head, I see only what is scrawled upon the box. That is blindness. Because I have accepted the box as my universe, and because I have become comfortable in my own little world, whether I am happy, upset or suffering because of what is written on the box, I feel sheltered by it. I don’t know what is outside of my box, and I don’t really want to peek outside to see. To me, the known is better than the unknown. I have become accustomed to the familiar scribbles inside my box.

Common sense can see that this spell, my fascination with my box, needs to be broken. It isn’t healthy. It isn’t true. … It isn’t true. … That’s the problem. I fooled myself into thinking that the world inside my box is true, but it isn’t true. The box deceives me.