The following is a series on love, in song, verse, and story. I have noted sources, except when the piece is from me.
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Meeting the Anonymous Sage -
I hear you teach a lot about love. Is that true?
I can't teach anything about it. No one can.
But people say you do.
I use the word often.
Then, how can I learn what it is, if no one can teach it?
I'm going to get myself a cup of tea. May I get you something to drink?
Sure, thanks. Whatever you're having, I'll have.
She wanted to see, or so she said. Did she see? Until ready, no key can unlock the eyes. Sometimes, even then, we look in the wrong direction - but at least we are looking. Words open doors. Words close doors. Words reflect thoughts. The thinking we know keeps us playing with shadows on walls. A picture of the Sun has never warmed a face.
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We mistake loving another with loving their appearance
When appearance elicits love love awakens to love - you awaken to yourself
Person loves person - the illusion being loves being - the truth
Self plays its trickery self bites the hook
Yet, how shall one swim in the deep without first wading into the shallows
How shall one ascend the love-ladder without taking a first step
Self can deny but not escape - love is before forms are seen through
Clouds cannot elude the Sun shadows are made possible by the Light
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The heat of a fire, a flame hidden, alone, burning blissfully inside, outside; Love rests within the breathings
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The song of love is in every heart. Each of us longs to be loved, loved by a mother, a lover, a friend, a husband or wife. We long to be touched, to be held, to be embraced, to be understood, to be needed. We need to know that we are loved and we need to love in return. Love is the primal music of life, the song of creation, the fabric of being human.
*Llewellyn Vaughan-Lee. Love Is a Fire.
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Upon visiting a hospice patient's home for the first time. I was welcomed by her granddaughter, whom I had never seen. We sat at a table, talking, as she asked varied questions about our services and the patient rested asleep in a nearby recliner...
She walks in, sits. I feel a force so pure, strong, I can only find one word to call it, "love," and so overpowering this struggle to speak. Looking to, looking away. Words stumble out. Hands reach, fingers search for reply, any of likeness will satisfy. Goodbyes, driving away... confused. What is this I feel left with, holding alone? Feeling deeply, yet cannot say. A gift, after all the sorrows of love left behind, to let it in this way. And, yes, possibly for all those sorrows this can be.
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Daphne Rose Kingma, poet, psychotherapist, teacher of relationships, tells of an experience in Hawaii. Daphne was weary after a huge fire in her house. She was lying on the beach and did not want to have conversation with anyone. A little girl with a pinwheel came to her. The little girl asked, "Can I sing you a song?" The girl sang a beautiful song about friendship. The final line was, "So I'm singing you this song, and I want to be your friend, will you be my friend, too?"
Daphne gave the following comment on meeting the little girl...
It was an absolutely exquisite gift. I will never see her again, I don't know her name, but we had an experience of deep connectedness and true love in that moment on the beach. There are hundreds of these moments in life that are so tiny that they don't register on this chart that we've all built about what love is. We think love has to look a certain way, have a certain outcome. But we're constantly gifted with such moments, experiences that are just breathtaking in their purity and their absolutely consecrated perfection.
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Love, like a leaf on wind, aimlessly, it seems to you and me, but a tide trembles below the surface of every human face.
There is a Sea upon which the Mysteries of Love sail. Let Her carry you away, guided by Her own destiny. Do not hesitate, asking, "Where?"
My Friend, no one is wiser than the one who says to Her, though knowing not Her ways, "Yes."
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We can replace longing with love.
*Yongey Mingyur Rinpoche. In Love with the World.
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Do not seek this Lover. Open the chest only and rejoice in the Treasure.
When you find Her necklace around your neck, take it off and pull the world to your happy heart.
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Communion is silent, yet it speaks; the most powerful communication is not of the mouth, but heart.
So, why do we trust what we say so much? Communication is more than saying. Truth is often lost in the opening of the mouth. Many things said are better simply lived. Yet, some things unsaid need to be said - like, "I love you, "I'm proud of you," "I appreciate you," "I'll miss you," and "Thank you." We can live on a small plot of land without thinking it is the whole world. Hints are often better than nothing, and silence is one of those hints. Has the Sun ever said, "Look! Here I am"? Being's silence can speak loudly, clearly. The question is, "Do we listen?" There are deaf people walking around everywhere. They hear, but they do not listen. So, let us learn to listen before hearing, or we will miss the many ways Love is present to get our attention. To enjoy the Love-rose, we stop and inhale deeply. We learn not just to rush on to the next thing we think we must do. Life shines in the spaces in-between here and there, this and that, you and them. What will most have mattered, when we breathe our last, and body weakens to release its hold on spirit? Love and moments of loving. Love is spirit, spirit is love. Why do we forget?
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So...
If I say, "I love you," I cannot tell you what that is. Things can be defined and explained, love cannot. I can say, "Listen to your heart," for love clarifies itself, unveils itself, without disrobing itself of the mystery it is - the communion it offers, heart-with-heart.
