I sat today and tried to reach for this thing we point to with the word Love. First, I left a trail of flaming frantic dust all the way to my mat this morning, littering caffeine molecules and a thousand worried mother thoughts as I skidded to a precious pause.
My eyelids could not be stilled, though I really wanted them to be. I wanted to feel this thing we point to when we say Love, when we say compassion. I invited it. I kept to the watching as my mind threw me up against memory after association, twinge of grief after surprising smile….the words and definitions just kept coming up out of the earth, and in my visioning I wanted to reach out and sweep each one away, “not that, I want to know what is deeper than that. Not that, I want to know what is real…now…”
I let my eyes flutter themselves open (as they wanted to be anyway) and I let them begin to take in the colors of the people’s clothing around me. I felt the warmth of my own attentiveness begin to creep into my chest. That particular shade of brown. I realized I was no longer running ahead of the word Love and finding only its cacophony of associations, I was no longer throwing it out to test what is in front of me to be sure it is “love,” and then retracting my wounded paw.
Suddenly I just loved, my naked attention was love—and these tiny victories are why I practice.
Happy Valentines Day Sweet Om Shala Family
May the fire that burns at the center of all beings burn brightly, flowers or no flowers ;)