As relational mammals with the sort of nervous system that we've been crafted with and the kind of heart that we've been provided with, the experience of abandonment and aloneness is really the greatest type of suffering we can experience.
It goes to the very core of who and what we are as beings wired to connect, to love and be loved, to hold and be held, and to rest, thrive, play, and heal in the arms of another, metaphorically and also physically, emotionally, neurophysiologically, as well as spiritually.
At times, we need another to help us to feel glued together, where two hearts, two sets of mirror neurons, and ripe relational neurocircuitries can come into linkage – one and two, two into One, the dance of Unity and Multiplicity, Oneness and Differentiation.
The activity of love in manifestation.
Upward, ascending into Unity, solar cycles; downward, descending into the alive brilliance of multiplicity, lunar embodiment and incarnation. Each an equally valid arrow in the quiver of the beloved as she unfolds herself into form, pours her body out of itself to seed the world of time and space.
No matter how much inner work we do, how healed, or transformed, or enlightened, or awakened we become, or fantasize ourselves to have become, we don't ever really transcend our relational nature. We don't rise above hundreds of millions of years of evolution.
We don't need to apologize for this or pretend it's otherwise or shame ourselves for having this relationally configured nervous system.
We don't need to apologize for the fact that we really are relationally crafted. But fall to the ground in awe at the mystery of one and two. The aching, the burning, the chaos, and the glory of the whole thing.
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