Sunday, March 10, 2013
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 naked, so translucent, so raw inside. What will the day bring? Will we allow another fully into our hearts? Will we take the risk that love always demands? 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 “transcend” them, to dishonor their gifts through the habitual movement to be in some state other than the one that has been given?
These long-lost, previously orphaned pieces of our being have arrived at the door of our hearts and are asking for only one moment of our precious time. They want only to finally be met – to be held, to be seen, to be validated – by our presence, by our touch, and by our love. Can we open all the way and create a holding environment for these ones where they can be metabolized, and reintegrated into these precious bodies, these tender hearts, these miracle nervous systems as the luminosity that they are? Through some crazy grace, within this holding environment we come to see that each emotion, each feeling, each raging sensation arising in the body is made of particles of light, pieces of love, and are explosions of a certain kind of grace. They are presenting themselves as doorways, inviting us to step through, and return Home.
There is a part of us that knows that in such a meeting something will be shattered. Our images? Our dreams? Our hopes? Our deeply rooted unmet need to be seen as special? Our strategies to avoid the vulnerable, groundless, ever-uncertain realities of the broken-open heart? 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 illuminating signature from the very beginning, and carried by her sweet love for all time.