You are not your business,
Your business is not you.
You are a person,
Your business is an entity.
You are responsible for your business,
Your business is not responsible for you.
You have beliefs,
Your business is incapable of having beliefs.
Therefore, you cannot impose you beliefs on your customers.
You go home at night,
Your business does not.
You have a family,
Your business has employees.
You mingle with people,
Your business is managed and contributed to by people,
But your business knows nothing about people.
It is not “people.” It is only a business.

Being able to say Yes to past present and future,
recognizing that there is only Present,
that God has a plan for me,
that it is what is predestined for me,
and that I am completely free to make of it what I will;
To accept it or reject it,
to accept God or reject God;
To fight against it or accept it,
to go with the flow or struggle against it,
to have my way or find my way;
To make it or break it or fake it, or take it;
To see and understand things as they are
and also perhaps with God to co-create things as they are with me;
To find my true self, what God made, and
to find my way back to my maker,
and to become one, in being with my Creator,
losing myself to Godsself, for Godssake,
and this not for sometime, but for now, Now.

I don't know what heaven will be like, or even if there is a heaven. Maybe we each will have our own kind of heaven... or hell. Maybe it will be after we die, or maybe it's here right now. In that case, we would experience both heaven and hell at different times. As a person with bipolar disorder, this makes sense to me: I know about experiencing the extremes.

The American poet Wallace Stevens wrote, skeptically and with exasperation, about the hereafter in his poem "Sunday Morning." He wrote:

Is there no change of death in paradise?
Does ripe fruit never fall? Or do the boughs
Hang always heavy in that perfect sky,
Unchanging, yet so like our perishing earth,
With rivers like our own that seek for seas
They never find, the same receding shores
That never touch with inarticulate pang?
Why set the pear upon those river banks
Or spice the shores with odors of the plum?
Alas, that they should wear our colors there,
The silken weavings of our afternoons,
And pick the strings of our insipid lutes!

He's saying that a life of porcelain-like permanence would be no heaven, even though it is perfect. Indeed, for Stevens,that kind of paradise is anti-life, at best an insipid reflection of the rich beauty we know in our world.

It's commonplace to think that heaven is a perfect place, and I suppose many people believe that it's unchanging. But is it? Why should it be? I agree with Stevens that a heaven frozen outside space and time is a very uninviting place. I wouldn't want to go there.

Perfection implies unchangeability. If it changed, it wasn't perfect, was it?

Change is the essence of life, so would it not also be the essence of heaven? Can heaven be static? Death is static.

There may be a heaven where everything is static and perfect, but in this life the best we have are ecstatic experiences that occur only rarely. I suppose one hope we might have for heaven would be to have these ecstasies wrapped into one unending tremulo.