Friday, February 19, 2016

The longing to return home



You can feel the call into the transformative fires of love, yet you know that something will be lost there. You want love to give you something, but you already are everything. This path will always ask that you rest and play in the very center of this conundrum which the mind may never understand. But the heart knows. The body knows. Honor the waves of contradictory feelings. Hold them without the dream of resolution. You will never resolve the creative unfolding of love.

The delivery of this holy contradiction is the secret gift of the beloved. Not the mirage beloved that has come to confirm your hopes, dreams, and fears. Not the beloved who has come to make it all safe and certain. But the beloved who has nothing to give you, because you already are everything. The beloved who will illuminate both separation and union, connection and separateness, oneness and multiplicity.

While the beloved may at times appear as another person – one of his or her most evocative forms – love will never be limited to only this form. Look at the patterns in the clouds, the crystals in the snowflakes, and into the substance which is forming your emotions, bodily sensations, and neural pathways. The beloved is everywhere.

This ‘nothing’ that love is here to give is the fruit of embodied integration. It is a ‘nothing’ the mind can never touch, for it is a ‘nothing’ that is ‘everything.’ Yes, the identities may fall away one by one, the ground may be removed from underneath you, but what is left is wholeness. This ‘nothing’ is pregnant, outrageous, and overflowing with qualities of warmth, aliveness, and fiery compassion.

The risk here is that you will end up a refugee, homeless in love, without any hope that you will ever resolve or come to terms with the untamed and unknowable movement of the beloved in your life. But was it this certainty or this surety that you were really after anyway? Or something else? Something more vast and whole?

Open to the longing to return home, to rest in your true nature, as no one in particular. As undefinable. As naked before the moon and the stars. Give everything to know the fragrance of this archaic homesickness, to be that vessel in which pure, tender, non-special love may come like a wildfire into this world, erupting through your body and your heart, leaving nothing but ashes of grace in its wake.


Artist unknown
 

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