Monday, August 19, 2013

Maybe it was only love after all

Love greets you at your bedside as you wake, before your images of this life have crystallized. It wants you before you know who you are, before you are convinced what is missing. Love is working with you behind the scenes to unlock those pieces of you that you have forgotten. You and love are planning the day. You decide joy will come, then sadness, then despair, then anxiety, then contentment, then peace, then shame, then confusion. You agree that a raging grace will be unleashed into and as your life, but it will be whole, it will come to transform, and it may be fierce.

Shall you shatter today, love asks? Shall your heart break? Shall we work together to burn away all that is false? Shall everything that is within you be made alive!? But how can I live without the images, the hopes, the dreams, the strategies, the protection, the cry in my heart to not be so tender, so raw, so vulnerable? Oh, you can do this, love assures you, but your life as you have known it will first have to end.

Yes, friends, love comes as a thief, stealing from you that which is false, partial, and less-than-whole within you. When it is done with its raid, nothing will be left of you, except the glorious radiance of your being, shining brighter than 1000 suns. You thought you needed so much, but you see now that you are a perfect expression of the totality. Something has died, yes, but it is in this shattering that galaxies are born, constituted out of the dust-heap of the broken pieces of your tender heart and your faded dreams.

Maybe it was only love after all, taking whatever form required to re-introduce you to yourself. Perhaps it was all orchestrated and set-up from the start, to show you exactly what you are, what is really needed and what isn’t, and how magnificent you really are.