In my story there is like and dislike, accept and reject; yes and no, want and don’t want, love and fear, me and not-me, mine and yours. In my story there is polarity and division. I am married to my story. The Great Teaching is that I am to love All That Is with all that I am, including my neighbor and myself. The Great Teaching is that nothing is outside this awareness, this love, and that everything matters.

But how can I possibly love all that is? In my story it is not possible. In my story I do not love unconditionally, I do not say yes unconditionally. In my story there is advantage and disadvantage, there is good stuff and bad stuff, there is security and insecurity, there is power and weakness, there is success and failure, there is life and death. In my story I discriminate, I judge, I divide, I prefer, I assume, I know, I choose. I choose what is good for me and reject what is bad for me. I choose what is right for me and reject what is wrong for me. I choose what is secure for me and reject what is insecure for me. I choose what is comfortable and reject what is uncomfortable.

I am the manager of reality. I control reality, or at least I try to. I do not love all that is, with all of my being. I am addicted to what I believe is good for me. I choose between my good and my bad. I am a chooser, a discriminator. I love what is good and hate what is evil. I cling to what is right and resist what is wrong. I cling to what is comfortable and resist what is uncomfortable. What is good for me is what matters.

I am on guard lest what is bad for me might happen. I am on guard lest I experience loss, weakness, insignificance, abandonment, loneliness, fear, guilt, grief, emptiness, disrespect, unappreciation. I am on guard against the victim experience. I want to be paid for what I do, with either money or appreciation. I guard against unfairness. I do my share and I expect others to do theirs. I am a realist.

That is my self-crafted story, my ethics, my religion, my philosophy. That is who I am. Of course, it doesn’t work and I have my suffering and symptoms, but I really see no reason that it doesn’t work, except for God and other people. Oh yes, the chief fly in the soup is God. God is the architect of this mess. The way he constructed it did not work, so I made it over. I constructed a better world in which I live. I made up a better story. So basically it is God’s fault, but god isn’t really around and so the chief fault is my neighbor. I know that 90% of the people say they believe in God, and so do I. Who would openly oppose the Man Stairs With The Big Stick? And as far as my neighbor is concerned, my "other" is hell. My "other" is the problem. How can I think otherwise! My other doesn’t understand and doesn’t cooperate with my plan and my choices. My other doesn’t do his or her part. I am a realist. .

All the world is queer save me and thee, and sometimes I wonder about thee.

Anonymous.

Not only is the world a little queer, but it is a little wrong, a little disappointing, a little malicious, a little selfish, a little uncooperative, a little back-stabbing, a little domineering, a little undependable, a little unfair, a little stupid, a little sick, a little crazy. And sometimes it is not just a "little" . Sometimes it is "much" and sometimes it is "always".

That is the story that I live by. Those are the facts. That is the way it is. How can I love all that is? Only a fool would do that. I cannot accept people’s excuses, rationalizations, lies, and self-deceptions. I’m nobody’s fool! They can fool some of the people some of the time and all of the people most of the time, but not me. I am worldly wise, I am street wise. I have been there and done that. I know. I am a realist.

And then something happens. A piece doesn’t fit in the puzzle. I can’t get rid of my silly symptom. Even the doctor’s medicine doesn’t work. Advice doesn’t work. Relationships don’t work. Arguing doesn’t work and I realize that even killing wouldn’t work. Divorcing doesn’t work. Quitting my job doesn’t work. I tell myself that winning the lottery is all that would work. Then I would be free, then I would be in control, then I would have security. Then I would have power. People might not love or want me, but they would respect and desire my money power. I wouldn’t have to go to work and kiss ass. I wouldn’t have to put up with my "other’s" weird craziness. I could just live on some island in the Pacific and hire me some dancers and servants and be happy ever after.

A lot of CEO’s had my dream and they had the power and position to make it happen. Of course, a few got caught and are in jail, but I admire most of them for their gusto. Don’t look at me so funny. Consider the world we live in. There are so many laws, rules and red tape that a guy can’t even make an honest decent living without fighting city hall. City hall wants 45% of my hard earned money in taxes. Everyone wants a cut. There are lawyers on every corner watching you like vultures. They jump on any possible violation that might pay off. If you have no money, there is no justice. And that is not just my story, that is fact. I am a realist.

I have heard this all week. These are the stories my clients tell me. They are hurt and angry. They can justify their pessimism forever. They have tried being believers, they have tried being nice, they have tried giving and trusting and going the second mile, and they got shafted. They got used. They got screwed. They are bankrupt. Even the spouse ran up the credit card and ran away with some internet screwball. Even the kids took sides against me. The in-laws didn’t like me in the beginning. God and the church don’t help either. I am all alone in my misery. My middle name is Job.

I will go to a counselor, but don’t tell me I got it wrong. Don’t tell me what to do. Don’t tell me some idealistic poppycock. I am a realist. I look out for number one. I do what it takes. Anyone over 40 is a cynic anyway. And I am tired and sick. And even the doctors don’t help. What else can a guy do except be sick in such a sick world with such a sick god running it. To me right now, it doesn't even look like there is any such god anyway. It all began with an amobe and a big bang. It is all just chemistry. The only comfort I ever had became illegal. There was a little taste of peace in my weed, but it was of course illegalized. You can’t win for losing. Playing by the rules doesn’t work; breaking the rules doesn't work.  Nothing works.

And so here we are. And you are telling me that you can love All That Is? That there is a secret knowledge? That unconditional love exists? That I am infinite? That it all matters? That I am mistaken? That I am unconscious? That every experience I have is for my self-realization? That my symptoms are my path to redemption? That victims do not exist? That God lives in every body? That every single experience has meaning and purpose? That mis-belief and mis-imagination are my only problems? That I am a dreamer, or rather a nightmar-er? You have got to be kidding! What planet do you live on! Even if such a thing were possible, do you thnk I would be so foolish as to listen to such bullcrap!

Do you think I am going to walk down the primrose path of some newly self-appointed guru? From what I’ve heard, all of these gurus are just after sex and money anyway. Even the churches want your money. The priests act so holy and they are molesting children. And let’s don’t even get started talking about the politicians and their dirty stories of corruption and greed. Nor about Wall Street and their bookkeeping. And what do you recommend about terrorism, Saudi Arabia, and the spectre of China?

You tell me to look inside. You tell me that the Kingdom of heaven is there. Well, who cares about what is inside! 99% of the world is outside and that is what I have to live with. Surviving is the name of the game. Anyway I’m sorta sick. I can’t fight it anymore. Even my favorite team lost yesterday. And when I went hunting, it rained and I caught a cold. And on the way home last night, I hit a deer with my truck. I couldn’t legitimately kill one, but I got one! It is sickening. And you tell me that everything has a spiritual meaning! What a joke! If my stomach didn’t hurt so bad, I would laugh.

So what have you got to offer? You want me to look inside? You say that the infinite is there. You say that all of this pain is due to my stupid story. You say that my suffering arises from my illusions? You say that I need to study daily in order to awaken to reality? Why should I believe you! Go to hell!

I understand all that you have said, but it simply is not true outside of the story. We are caught up in our own plot. We are self-hypnotized. We are self-misled. We are on a self-destruct path. We are our own worst enemy. What we call reality is an illusion. What we call victimization is just an offer of Eternal Life. God is nowhere if not inside of you. God is suffering in you and with you. Your cynicism is always and only about your sense of limitation. There are no such limits. You made them all up. You invented hell. You trapped yourself in your seeming logic. There is no such trap. There are no such "others" that plague you. There are no victims. City hall is just a figment of your imagination. The terrorists are just scared story-tellers like you and me. They imagine they will be victimized by us. Didn’t you read Shakespeare in high school about how life’s a stage and we are all actors?

Your symptomatic story is designed entirely and completely for your self-realization. Not one of your experiences is outside of God’s unconditional regard for you. It all matters. But in order for you to fully grasp this fact, you will need an Interpreter. Fortunately you have one, you have the Teacher of all Wisdom inside of you. John Bunyan in his classic Pilgrim’s Progress called this teacher by the name of "Interpreter". Everything has to be re-interpreted, because you see, we have already mis-interpreted everything.

Goodwill told Pilgrim: you will soon come to the house of a man named Interpreter.. When Pilgrim reached Interpreter’s House, he received a warm welcome, and was told that he would be shown many profitable things. Interpreter lit a candle and began to show him how to interpret the strange things he was experiencing in life. Without Interpreter, we will miss the meaning of our daily grind.

Interpreter shows us how every single thing matters. Nothing is outside the venue, purpose, value, truth, and reality of unconditional love. Every single thing has infinite meaning. Not one thing is outside of God and his purpose for your self-realization. There is not one wasted word or moment, not "one jot or tittle." (Mt 5:18 -For verily I say unto you, Till heaven and earth pass, one jot or one tittle shall in no wise pass from the law, till all be fulfilled. ) Everything matters. To whom? To whom is a "falling sparrow" noticed? A woman has many animals and pets, which breaks her bank account, her health and her marriage, but she will not give them up. This fanatical unconditionality has meaning.

There is nothing meaningless in this universe. God is meaning. If you have bought into meaninglessness, you can see that you are not a realist, and that your story is skewed. Reality is meaning, purpose, significance. Meaninglessness is the essence of anxiety and depression. Insignificance is the source of all pain, sickness and symptoms. Insignificance exists only in our self-manufactured story.

Recently ABC reported 30,000 identity thefts. Hackers have beeen able to get someone’s credit report using a social security number and steal one’s life savings without it being known. What does this mean? What does this represent for us in Infinity Theory? In one sense we have all experienced identity theft, identity loss, identity confusion. Major industries exist to insure us against theft and loss. Security systems abound. National security is our most expensive government expenditure. But what is the identity theft? Where is this thief? Our true identity is " man hidden in the heart" (1 Peter 3: 4), and not our every day ego story.

Dr. Seuss wrote a book about the How the Grinch Stole Christmas from the people in Whoville. Who is the Grinch? The Grinch has been called by many names including Scrooge, Mr. Hyde, the Devil and other spoilers. But upon deeper examination, we find the cynical culprit cleverly hidden in our own Shadow. The question of who is responsible for our cynicism, our doubts, our suffering and our symptoms—is a critically important theapeutic question. It is a question that the spiritual psychotherapist has to constantly ask the client as well as himself. Where does Mr. Grinch live unless it is in our psychic world? How does one deal with Mr. Grinch? That issue is the entire thrust of this website. Mr. Grinch thinks that he is Mr. Realist, doesn’t he? Is that true? Only you can answer.

Who stole your identity? Who is the identity thief? What is identity theft, really? An identity theft is the belief that I am a realist, believe it or not. Read on.