Ponderings on love

I have been pondering love recently, what it is, its necessity in my life, and its reality.  It is something which is first felt, so how do I know if it is love at all?  How do I recognize, it, and what are its qualities? 

There is some sense of fatedness implicit within it.  It is something that strikes me, and I react to it.  It comes at me first as felt before I can rationalize or analyze it. It is a felt presence that is experienced before any concept, and it is a definite thing.  It often terrifies me because it is so immense. It can turn everything upside down, changing my whole life in a single instant. 

Yet in the face of that fear, if it is real love, then I know I must have faith in it, for it is a force of nature, moving galaxies, fueling suns, and directing the course of planets.  I do not control or direct it, for it directs me. 

So I follow it.  I let myself believe the dreams my love whispers to me. I feel it as an inpouring of vision, a tempest of poetry that sweeps across me with a magic that makes it impossible to forget.  It etches itself into my memory with a clarity and depth that awes me. All of eternity is opened in the experience of that felt presence. I am humbled to tears by its passage. 

When I find love I hold to it no matter what the cost, cherishing it as I would the most precious thing in existence.  Its arising is so rare, especially in the midst of the pain and chaos of life, that it begs to be nurtured and valued.  It is like a delicate flower sprouting through concrete. So when I feel it, I am astounded, and in that astonishment, I understand. I know beauty. That such a thing should exist at all is a miracle.  When it emerges in me, all I can do is listen to it.

I do not chose it.  I can not create it or make it be.  When it is, it is.  It is not a matter of self determination.  It speaks to me and I listen, and what it says tells me what it is.  I know it when my heart flames with vision; when each sensation is amplified through the charge of its enchantment.  

It is as palpable to me as gravity. It pulls me and I go.  I have learned that I must follow it wherever it leads me, at whatever cost, for it is my Golden Thread.  I know that if I follow it, I will find myself at the Heart of this Labyrinth.  I will find Ariadne, my soul, my inmost essence, and I will know Truth. 

What some do not seem to understand about me is the intensity of the devotion which I have; yet, I see no other way I can be, for this is all I am.  My heart is all that I am, and this heart is the only means I have at arriving at Truth, for Truth is not known by the head but felt by the heart.  This truth is all the seasons of my heart, and by it do I come to truly understand the meaning of this precious life.

This love, in all of its mystery, is the birthplace of art and beauty. It is an alchemical process, one of pain and joy, tears and laughter, creation and destruction.  It is a thing that happens to me; that I must allow to happen to me; that I choose willingly. I choose love knowing the price. 

I must go through the fire with this knowing to be forged into an instrument of Truth by the repeated tempering of love. It is the path which takes me into the deepest meanings and mysteries of being human - the capacity to love and understand love, and to be wounded in that understanding. 

I love with all that I have because all that I have left to give that means anything is love.  Love is the only meaning I know. I can do nothing else because it is what I am and what I do.  Thus it is also my truth and my honesty.

It is not a "divine" love in the sense that it is above this world. It is a messy, imperfect human love.  Yet, for me, that is the most divine love there is.  It is not transcendent. It struggles. It feels the pain and the loss, it is vulnerable and gets hurt, is wounded, feels sadness and fear.  It is all of these things, for it is a living thing, it is moved and moves.  It is in creation and with creation.

I am moved by life and by love.  I let it touch me, let it sound itself off the depths of my heart and play me as a bow plays a violin.  I do not run from its hurt out of fear of the inevitable loss love will bring.  I embrace each and every part of the process as perfect.  Each feeling is but a note in the full symphony of love, a symphony that pulses at the very heart of creation.

I have taken the whole thing, including the inevitable pain of loss, the pangs of attachment, the ache of longing, and I have raised it up as the perfect symbol of magical awakening and mystical union.  I have deified this love in all of its humanity and reality. I can no longer tell the one from other, for love itself has become my religion.  It is both my path and my destination.

I allow love to touch me, to break me open, to teach me its lessons; about creation, its purpose, and my place in it.  Love will lead us to Truth if we would follow it, through all its trials and tests, until we can see all the season of love as holy.

I know love because of what I see in love.  I see infinity.  I see God.  I see beauty.  I see the full immensity of creation, and I see how fleeting it all is.  How unique this moment is, and how unlikely. Gratitude pours out of me as I relish in this moment, for the moment itself is the altar of my devotion.

All of the cosmos, the billions of galaxies, the suns and planets and moon, all of it condenses and crystallizes down to a single lucid moment of perfect awareness with its dawning realization- this is love, all of it.

It is never abstract for me.  It is always tangible.  It takes form in flesh, in veins and pores and cells, in the overwhelming appreciation for the true beauty of creation and the impossibility of the existence of anything at all.  It is human because its center of focus, its nexus and its channel of ingress into my world, is through another body, another soul, the object of love.

This love is the perfect inspiration of realization.  I do not run from these human experiences.  I divinize them. I let it break my heart, wash in, fill me with its immensity.  It inspires my soul, electrifies me, wakes me up to this singular moment.

I know that this love exists because I feel it.  This feeling is the sure knowledge of its own existence. It needs nothing outside of itself, for its proof is its own affirmation.  Because love is the affirmation of meaning in the face of the meaningless.  It is its own justification.  I know that it exists because I see it, and I know that it will be found and realized in its fullness.  It is only a matter of time. Through time love comes perfectly to its apotheosis.

I hold to it because I have faith in love.  I trust its movements and see them as the poetry of passion and the dance of desire.  I trust that it will move me as needed, and will move others as it needs to.  I trust that it will conspire to bring itself to its own fulfillment in its proper time.

Though love brings suffering, the only thing truly worth suffering for is love.  So I affirm love in the face of loss, continually and eternally.  I love, I suffer, and I appreciate every moment of it.