Saturday, July 6, 2013

on love & i love you's

If ever there were a post written by, or on my ego's behalf, this is it. (And yes, they all are to one degree or another - that's a human being for you.)

But ever since posting about my time with Ambrose, I've felt naggingly compelled to explain, justify, and honestly explore, my quick and (at the time) unabashed use of the words, "I love you." Not because I feel like there was anything wrong with expressing those words to him - because I don't; the feelings that inspired my use of those words were pure and true. I suppose what prompts me now is thinking that maybe I should have felt there was something wrong with it, something foolish. And what gives rise to that, I suppose, is the fear that that's what others might be if they're thinking about it at all. I'm gonna wager a safe bet and assume they're not.  :-)

What were you thinking telling a stranger that you love them? What were you thinking traveling across the country to stay with a person you don't even know? What were you thinking opening up so blindly, so soon? Who are you to be professing love at all when you don't even love yourself? What does love even mean?

All reasonable questions, I'm thinkin'. And ones I've posed myself.

My now-conclusions:

Love, in its ultimate form, is something the human personality knows nothing of, not really. It's a creator of separation. It does so innocently, of course. It's just doing its job. It's what has kept the human species alive and physically thriving. It judges, classifies, categorizes. It perceives dangers or problems, and sets out to solve them. It's an egocentric mechanism that goes to extremes, insisting things be one way or the other. It has its story and it's sticking to it. It would sooner go straight to hell and suffer in its rightness than to open itself up and consider that there may just be another facet - or countless facets - to the Whole that it may have been ignorant of heretofore. Don't get me wrong: humans are capable of greatness that's extraordinary. They can be kind, generous, incredibly good. Those loving thoughts which inspire those loving actions, they are closer to our nature; they're closer to the lightness of Who We Really Are. But the way I see and understand it, those instances are born of grace; they're not something the ego inherently does as a rule. As I've heard Byron Katie say, "Personalities don't love...they want something." That feels true to me.

All is a play of mind. And there seems to come a point in every seeming mind-stream in some lifetime or another, where the mind wakes up to itself, and as it becomes more aware of who and what it really is, a space naturally opens up that allows for more connection and giving, and yes, more love. But in the meantime, until the illusion has been seen through, and Self shines through, fully embodied by the so-called personality, it does the best it can. It wanders around in the dream, seeking pleasure, avoiding pain. Sometimes sweet; other times vicious.

I'd say that's about where I'm at: still wandering around in the dream, but growing ever more lucid! That being the case, I'm not always a perfect manifestation of Love, so very far from the likes of Jesus or the Buddha. But when I use the words, "I love you," they're coming from the best, brightest spot I've got in me; they're of the highest vibration I'm capable of. I speak those words to another knowing full well that I'm not enlightened, that I don't have all the answers, that if our moods or stories clash, trouble could very well begin to brew. I know that it's an imperfect love; it's human - but one well-intentioned, nevertheless. I speak the words, "I love you," as my own personal "Namaste" - the divinity in me salutes, celebrates, and bows to - the divinity in you. And this is exactly why I never hesitate to say the words, "I love you" to the Ambrose's or The Brazilian's that I sometimes encounter in the world. I didn't have to know each and every detail of Ambrose's mental make-up or each stitch of his life history. It didn't matter that our darling love affair was destined to end in such a quick, comedic span of time. All I needed to know was that I was in. I was present and ready to share my heart. And I was prepared to help cultivate the best in his.

For me, the words, "I love you," contain a promise. I love you, my fellow soul, because I know Who You Really Are. I know that there is a pure, vast universe hidden just underneath your guise of humanness. I know that there is a being of unlimited, un-quantifiable Goodness that is alive and present midst, and despite, the fear, prejudice, and confusion that your ego occasionally revels in. I know that you are doing the best you can in any given moment. I love you, and that means that I will always do my absolute best to see you with compassion, with the knowledge and certainty I have for who and what you are. Not who you say you are or pretend to be; not the fleeting actions you take or the ever-shifting attitudes you hold; not who I sometimes mistake you for or who I sometimes wish you'd be - but You. I promise to behold the best in you. I promise to cherish the unclaimed, unhealed parts of you, as well as champion your light. I will be your witness as you feel and experience what you've come to heal and experience. I love you. And that means, as difficult as that may be for me sometimes, I will always choose for you what you choose for you. I want for you to live the life that you, yourself, would choose to live. I love you, and that means you have complete freedom to be who you are, to choose what you choose, know what you know, and to sing whatever song inspires your lips to sing. I see you. I appreciate you. I cherish you. I know who you are..and I adore the truth and majesty of what I see. 

Like I said, I don't always live up to the ideal of how I'd like to treat my brothers and sisters here. But it is my ever-present prayer, that's for certain.

When I began this post, I was feeling a little embarrassed for having said "I love you" to someone that I didn't know well, someone whose intentions turned out to be questionable in retrospect. I felt stupid and my ego wanted to justify and defend my use of those words. But as I've sat with this and written on it, the ego burn's eased up. I don't care how others perceive it. Yes, I didn't know Ambrose all that well. But my "I love you's" just don't come from that. They don't come from knowing everything about someone and then deeming them worthy of hearing such a phrase after putting in a certain amount of time together. (Which, I agree, taking time to see the nitty-gritty of things with regards to another would be a prudent, self-respectful course of action to take if we were talking about moving in together or tying up one's life with another, but we're only speaking about the sharing of one's feelings here.) I said I loved him because I did. And for what he continues to give me, and for all the people that have blessed my life - people from different parts of the world I call "friend" whom I've yet to meet in person, to people I know are on their way I've yet to discover exist, to a cashier who looks me brightly in the eye - I can truly say I love them all. It doesn't have to be romantic. Just love. Love, as I understand it to be.

I can freely say I love you, because at your core, I know who you really are.

How could that need defending?

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