Friday, November 30, 2012

Left in the tatters of love… forever

Are we willing to make an *unconditional* commitment to being kind to our immediate, embodied experience? That no matter whether fear appears, shame comes to visit, anxiety arrives for tea, conflict sneaks in the back, unlove shows up unannounced, sadness drowns each and every cell of this precious heart – that these grace-guests will be received in the most luminous, vast field of kindness? Are we willing, somehow, to love ourselves so much that these ones will not be turned away, that they will be met directly, held, allowed in, and touched – for we know that they come showering gifts from beyond. Are we willing to surrender, once and for all, the frenetic spiritual-scramble to organize our lives around feeling good or having certain “powerful” experiences or otherwise staying safe in our spiritualities of experience and specialness? Are we willing to stay unbearably close to this sensual reality, to these tender hearts, allowing *everything* and *everyone* to matter, so deeply that we find ourselves falling excruciatingly in love moment-by-moment - naked, exposed, unresolved, and utterly vulnerable forever? 

Will we, even if for just a moment, set aside our habitual escape-routes of transcendence, our spiritualities that tell us nothing matters and we’re “above it all,” soon to arrive in some landing place of protection, hope, and security – safe from the terrifying reorganization that the movement of love always demands. In place of this transcendence, all that is left is an unbearable intimacy with this life as it is, with this one-and-only utterly precious somatic reality and raging luminous movement of grace that assembled this body, cell by cell. Yes, this grace is sometimes sweet, often terribly fierce, and will demand *everything* from us. We know we will no longer be able to find ground, security, protection, or identity in our spiritual concepts and will be facing very soon all of our fears of intimacy and its inevitable shattering of safety. 

But mostly it will become so excruciatingly clear that if we are crazy enough to give everything for love, if we have no choice, that this heart *will* be broken open, piece by piece, and that it may never, ever, ever, be reassembled again; that even our sacred spiritualities will not be able to neatly collect all of the shards, resolving and weaving them into its fear-fables of awakening. We will be left in tatters forever, feeling everything, unbearably exposed to the movement of love in this world of time and space; even the wind blowing or the sun rising or the birds singing or looking for one precious second into the eyes of the one checking you out at the grocery store may be too much; the utter preciousness of this life may shut this heart, this body, these senses down. There is nothing left to hold onto, nothing left to “achieve” with our spiritualities of specialness; nothing left to get for “me,” but only everything to give. From here it is one endless miracle, moment by moment, and utter wonder as to how love will make use of this body – these eyes to see, these hands to so sweetly touch those around us, these words to speak kindness, and this broken open heart to feel utterly everything.