Thursday, July 26, 2012

Maybe it was only love after all...


How willing are we for the heart to be broken – and then put back together – over and over and over again? Sometimes we wake up feeling so vulnerable, so sensitive, so raw inside. What will the day bring? Will we allow another fully into our hearts? How deeply will we meet that which appears on this new day? Will our old friend anxiety come for tea? Will our faithful companion fear ask to join? Will our long lost acquaintance shame arrive for a reunion? Will we resist the temptation to turn from our old friends, to spiritualize them away, to dishonor their endless gifts through our habitual need to be in some state other than the one that has been given? Our dear friends only want to be met – to be held, to be seen, to be validated – by our presence, by our touch, and by our love. Can we cuddle and stay close with these ones? 

There is a part of us that knows that in such a meeting something will be shattered. Our images? Our dreams? Our hopes? Our strategies to avoid the risk of relatedness? Our ways of hiding out from the burning fires of true intimacy? It seems we are also simultaneously aware of a call from beyond, whispering to us that in this shattering something will be reborn, reconstituted out of the dust-heap of the broken pieces of our tender hearts and faded dreams. Maybe it was only love after all, taking whatever form required to re-introduce us to ourselves. Perhaps it was all orchestrated and set-up by the beloved from the start, flooded with her grace-signature from the very beginning, and carried by her sweet love for all time.  

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