Love is What You Are

Open your hands if you want to be held." ~Rumi

Love has always been what I am but I was never shown that. Then the endless seeking began, even before I could understand what I was attempting. It becomes an addiction, to find love in everything else but in yourself. I always felt deprived. What was missing to be found in others, even in things. Finally I took the task of teaching myself the contrary. I know that I am not lacking love now but the feeling comes up now and again. Especially this time of year.

This old ancient wound that just needs tending to. Instead of fighting it, although a familiar reflex, I caress it like a stray animal. It hisses and growls to be fed. It comes up like some savage wild hunger and all it needs is tenderness. Instead of resisting with closed fists, clenching my heart in fear, I place my open palm against it, to cradle it. I rock back and forth, as a mother does their child. Holding it gently in my arms, singing to sooth its crying. I have tried to cultivate love within myself. It's a daily practice that never reaches perfection. And you accept it with time. That you just keep returning to it even if you veer off sometimes. 

It seems that these last few years I have buried myself in the dirt. It has been dark and lonely. I questioned myself over and over. And in those moments is when I have felt impoverished, in the darkness, before I could reap what I have sown. Before I can taste the light. And so I have reached inside myself to grow myself whole. To pull that love that was buried long ago out of me, to create it with my own bare hands. I gift it now to myself so that maybe I can recognize it in others. Give it away. So I can see it in things. But because it is a reflection of me. That is why I can appreciate beauty in life. As the world burns and crumbles, I can see the beauty despite it. I need to see the beauty despite the darkness. That is love.