Friday, February 1, 2013

Orchestrated by the beloved all along...

How willing are we for our hearts to be broken – and then put back together – over and over and over again? Are we able to be immensely kind to ourselves and others, with the courage to finally set aside our fantasies of resolution, our dreams of coming to some place where we've got it all neatly managed, we've figured it out, resting safely in the "me" that is "awakened," protected from the raging movement of love and its reorganizing fires? Sometimes we wake up feeling so vulnerable, so sensitive, so raw inside, unsure of what it is we really want, what is moving within us. What will the day bring? Will we allow another fully into our hearts? Will we allow ourselves to be touched and transformed by whatever appears?

How deeply will we meet that which arrives 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 remain radically embodied, staying excruciatingly close, profoundly intimate with these aspects of ourselves who arrive as special guests from beyond?
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 spiritual fantasies? Our ways of hiding out from the burning fires of true intimacy? The unbearable truth of the groundless and unresolvable nature of the field of grace that is this messy human life? Alongside this most sacred reassembling, it seems we are also simultaneously becoming 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.