There was an old dream that opening your heart was always
going to feel safe, that somehow love promised that.
That allowing another to truly matter was going to be easy,
that staying close to your vulnerability was somehow not going to feel shaky
and at times unbearable.
That to heal meant you’d be in some protected, resolved,
untouchable state where you had transcended the sensitivity of being an open,
naked, alive human being.
But the beloved has no interest in your certain,
invulnerable, crystal clear clarity and safe knowing. Or in conforming to
anything. He or she is just too wild and untamed for all that, an of the nature
of relentless creativity.
In whatever form the beloved may take in your life – an
intimate partner, a child, someone who triggers and annoys you, or the purples
in a late summer sunset – they long for your burning, for that quivering in
your heart, for your tender not-knowing. To stand in awe as you meet this world
as an amateur, not an expert, as a humble servant of the mystery.
When you are totally unclothed – of all of your spiritual
concepts and certain, safe knowing – love will show you what you are. When the
known crumbles away, all that remains is your burning heart. There is nothing
more alive than that. There is nothing more sacred than that. There is nothing
safer than that.
