When I see how often in a day I forget love, I’m dismayed. So powerful is the appeal of love, that I immediately send myself searching for ways to ensure that I forget love no longer.
I turn to reading books on bhakti, devotion, love. And then I realize that my paramguru, Sri Ramakrishna, was arguably the greatest devotee of love ever born on the planet. Off I go to read him.
How fortunate I am!
Look, the love bug bit me and now has me scampering in 100 different directions at once. Lady Love ran her scarf under my chin and here I am building a house for her. Powerless in the face of love.
And getting straight about what can and cannot be done with love. Love brooks no lies. It brooks no harshness or hostility. It cannot be hidden unless you want it to disappear.
I can only announce my love and announce it and announce it. And some will hear it; some will not.
See how bitten I am? Your turn next. Everyone’s turn’s coming – or so I’m told. This is definitely worth reaching out for, worth asking for, worth holding out for. Don’t you wonder where my mind went, so to speak? So do I but I haven’t the interest to find out. Love does that to you.
So to return: I feel the need to create new channels for the expression of love, to serve as reminders not to forget. Where’s the incense? Where’s my seiza bench? My meditation tapes?
I understand how Rumi could say that a man could go insane feeling separated from love. I don’t intend to go there because I know the connection to love depends solely on me. If I disconnect, it’s because I did it. So no excuses on not remaining connected to love. And no cop-outs.
Gone are all my intentions to create a cross-cultural spirituality or the return of the growth movement or much of anything else as long as I’m the unrequited, ever-yearning lover of love. I know full well my yearning will be fulfilled. Not a moment too soon.
There’s never enough love. And I will never drink my fill.