Sunday, November 17, 2013

Resting inside the moon



A part of you wants to die in love, to remove your clothing, and fall like a drunkard into the ocean with the beloved, forever. Another part isn’t so sure you are ready to surrender. Will it feel safe? Will you come out the other side? Will you even recognize yourself in union? What will your friends and family think? What about all your beliefs, hopes, fears, fantasies, wishes, and identities? How will you ever withstand such nakedness, rawness, and exposure? 

What will it really be like to feel as if you’re on the brink of the most devastatingly glorious heartbreak at all times, every day for the rest of your time here? 

Oh, friend, will you see that it is the beloved herself that is delivering these conundrums to you, so that she may take you on the most wondrous journey into the center of your own radiant wholeness? She has no interest in your resolving the wild ways of love and of piercing the mysteries of separation and union.  She wants you exactly as you are, to mingle your essences together, and to burn up the entirety of your conceptual world.  She wants to be inside you and to feel you inside her. 

There is a part of you that wants more than anything to surrender and to fall into the unknown, while another part is holding on for dear life, to clarity, to “holding it all together,” and to the safety and certainty of the known world. The beloved is working with the particles of love as her emissaries to illuminate each of these parts, so that she can weave the multiplicity back into the one, and then the one back out again into the many. This is the way of the return Home, and you are the mad crazy wayfarer of love. 

You are inside her and she is in you, dancing together throughout the stars, the galaxies, and the supernovas; you are together swimming in the oceans, and resting inside the moon. 


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