Saturday, March 2, 2013
An alive, shimmering, messy, gooey field of love
We want to know so badly… how things will turn out, when we’ll be awakened, when our hearts will no longer be at risk of shattering, when we’ll stop suffering, when we’ll be happy and free in some sort of permanent way. It is so easy for our spiritual lives to become yet another expression of our own unmet emptiness, unresolved emotional wounding, and of the subtle ways we have come to see ourselves as unlovable as we are. It is no “secret” that our culture is one of acquisitiveness, which of course spills over into our relationship with the spiritual journey: Please, somehow, give me more, as what is here now is most definitely not enough. I know there is some higher, divine state of consciousness that is out there waiting for me, I was promised this, take me there. I’ll do anything, I’ll believe anything, I’ll pay anything.
But perhaps there is no “secret.” Perhaps the love and connection and meaning we seek will never be found through the mode of acquisition, through the moving away from immediate embodied experience into a new and higher state of consciousness. Life appears to not actually have an interest in us living up to some second-hand image or coming to see ourselves as playing out some constructed tale of awakening. Love cares nothing for any of this, but only for the burning up of the known. In this most sacred fire, love’s purifying flames will reorganize everything, which is both exhilarating and terrifying when this truth is let all the way in. Life is only ever offering its invitation to fall heart-first into an immense field of not-knowing – not knowing how to live, not knowing how to forgive, not knowing how to accept, not knowing how to get awakened, and not knowing how to finally acquire the “right” “spiritual” thoughts, feelings, emotions, experiences, and “states.”
In the very center of your heart, there is always an open doorway. It has nothing to do with becoming something new, with the mythical sustained transcendent experience, with living out the fables and mythologies of awakening, or somehow moving beyond the messy world of intimacy, vulnerability, and the ultimate unresolvability of love. Love has no interest in your landing in some constructed place of safety and ground. It wants so badly for you to walk through, to meet for the first time this unbearable longing to go Home, to crumble in naked vulnerability, to behold for the first time the miracle of this precious human body, of *these* thoughts, of *these* feelings, of *these* passing states of consciousness. For in just one moment of caring enough – of somehow resisting the call to exit this experience for another – what you see is that it is all made of love, crafted out of the substance of love, all the way through, from the inside-out and outside-in. And no matter what the details, love has somehow configured itself as your unique life, and has offered itself as a gift… only forever waiting for you to receive it, as it is.
In one moment of opening your heart all the way, taking the risk that love demands, setting aside everything you’ve been taught about the journey, and flooding your experience with the most radical kindness, something is revealed to you: this life is an alive, shimmering, messy, gooey field of love, hurling grace-invitations at you to climb in, to bathe yourself in its healing waters, and to allow your heart to dissolve in its sweetness.