Power of love

God's wisdom made us lovers of one another.

In fact, all the particles of the world

are in love and looking for lovers.

 ~Rumi

But then Rumi is always right isn`t he?—the eternal lover of love. But then I am the embodiment of the infinite “lover of love”—in a way a mortal sin for the body, but an unfolding process for the soul. Yes—painful. You see one can talk all one wants about love, but to live it is different. Love is a total sacrifice, complete submission—a burnt offering of self . As the song goes—love hurts. 

The more we love, the greater the pain for often the synchronization of two souls is difficult, even twin  flames. The growth process of souls move at different speeds of acceleration towards union with God. Love's essence comes in and out of form in perpetual grace, from grace itself—which is the actual manifestation of God mercy and love. Infinite times in every finite moment galaxies and universes are reborn in love, with love, through love.  All of creation makes love every moment—each atom is a lover of another. Every particle sings the eternal love song—all that IS, is love itself. All that will be, is consummated in love's passion. How sad that so many fail to realize the true essence, the meaning of the language of love.

Only that which is created within the soul itself is authentic love—all else is a mirage, a sin—“missing the mark”. It is an energy that binds souls together with each other through the power of love, which is the only creative force in the mind of God— being in union with God Himself at the same moment. It draws to us the desires of our heart, at the same time it releases all that will not serve love. 

This universal power is what keeps planets, solar systems and galaxies orbiting in orchestrated harmony. The entire universe is born in love, sustained in love and moves in love. Love is the reason for all—which for many who are bound tightly to the physical fail to realize. Love can never be destroyed—all else can.

When we open our soul to love—allow the universal power to flow without hindrance—within as well as without, it becomes a positive creative force through which all is possible. Drawing those who can receive us, those who desire love and releasing those who can not. Soul love is free from limiting assumptions, shame and old patterns.

Love is closer to you than could be imagined. What you are longing for is longing for you.---but it is a blessed gift that only a few possess. So—value it, cherish it and hold it tightly in your hands, for there is nothing else—but love for being created, for existing for being. There is no dying only if one has not loved, but more so is being loved.—Death is not realizing the very power of love.

"I am your moon and your moonlight too. I am your flower garden and water too. I have come all this way, eager for you--without shoes or shawl. I want you to laugh, to kill all your worries-to love you, to nourish you" 
-Rumi
Thus am I all this for you--if you accept!

Be ever vigilant

Pray hard, meditate with all your might and envision with your soul’s eyes the vision of our true inheritance and nature. Call forth from your oversoul, where all is written and all stored .The game, the lessons, the instructions that we have forgotten because of our disconnect from God. Let us be reminded that we are the children of a great, peaceful, merciful and loving God. I know this to be true, it is burned into the very fabric of our soul, even our physical DNA, though we seem to have forgotten this immutable fact of divine revelation. There no escape from sacred truth where there is genuine loving intention. Yes-love God with your whole heart, whole soul and whole mind Catechism 101 from when I was 7 years old-still very fresh in my mind.

We have -sprung forth from the mind, the very consciousness of God, from the ocean of eternity. Anointed with divinity, created from love and blessed with forgetfulness for reasons of our own spiritual growth . We are also marked with forgetfulness so that we may choose our life through the gift of free will.

We have forgotten our true name, our true nature, our true home and our true vocation. Centering ourselves on ourselves we have lost our center in “our authentic being ”. Therefore we do not know who and what and where we really are.

We are lost. Like Prometheus we resort to stealing from God the inheritance of all that is freely and unfailingly given. This confusion creates our existential crisis, our fictitious existence, our deep disorientation, our deep unhappiness, our self inflicted woundedness  to which we are bound. Unable to break the chain that we ourselves have forged, that seems to enslave us, bind us—which is infact of our very own doing, our own choice to be exact. Squandering our treasures in a fragmented disbursement of consciousness, we fall into dysfunctional unconsciousness; a mindless, trustless, fearful, and rapacious pursuit of life, destructive of our own life and that of the Earth's well-being. Like a voice in the wilderness we lament at our self -wrought desolation. Paradise lost! Can it ever be regained? This is the question that the soul faces.

The reality that is within us-call it soul, spirit, Atman which is the reality within us, which due to our physical existence fails to grasp-or more precisely refuses to grasp the whispers of its secrets which it is trying to tell us-which is "truth"; if we really listen we can hear it clearly—for the answers are always given if we sincerely ask with an open heart. However, if we do not ask it remains hidden and all remains a mystery, an unexplained myth—deep in the very existence of love itself. Paradise; with moments of happiness, of joy, of contentment, of awareness, of enlightenment , of God realization all lie within –these treasures are never without, but entwined and grounded in the soul—excavated and unearthed through prayer, union and conversations with God. This is only found in silence, solitude and total consecration to God.

One is One

Words—they come in many ways, their meaning interpreted by the recipient in various ways, but whether they are conveyed in a most complex way where you have to use the dictionary for every word or the most simple of terms,  it often will still convey the same meaning . The # “1 is still # 1” –in any which way, be it just as a simple #1 or a complex  # 1 which may be derived  through a most difficult process of  a mathematical formula that may take hours of calculation of a most complex equation –but eventually the answer will still be #1. 

Jesus had the same idea when He spoke about prayers—and all the babbling of the one`s who wanted to attract God`s attention, --or rather  in order to look important  and holy in the eyes of man.  A form of pride, self importance and separation from others. Chosen ones. We are all created equal—the only way we can and be differentiated is through our actions most often without the world knowing.  I read somewhere a statement once that rings true for me—“ if the world knows about it , it dosn`t count”. I believe that.

God is perfect and in His wisdom He has given us all the tools that we need to be united once more within Him. This thought conjured up many things in my mind, not that I am a great thinker, but neither were many of the great saints or people who have made a huge difference in the battle for the soul of man. From the dawn of creation till now it has always been the humble, the simple , the meek that have made all the difference in the world relating to spirit—all one needs to do is read the Beatitudes or look at the simplest of saints who were giants. Humility does not equate with stupidity.

 Now, I don`t mean to say that the great philosophers, great poets, writers, spiritual thinkers, contemplatives did not make their mark; but the marks that had the greatest impact were made by the small, little pebbles  that just make a tiny ripple which eventually expanded and encompassed the entire pool—the rings ever expanding to, if it were possible to infinity. Mother Teresa was told one day—“Mother you are such a great social worker’. Mother Teresa in a most angry voice replied—”me a social worker? No—I am a contemplative  in action”.  Thus we should all be.

The Holy Spirit  moves in mysterious ways, but not in a complicated way within the soul—all that is needed is just to allow it to guide, work and  move through us  in a way that is different in each created soul. Some need a complicated demonstration of its action, some just simplicity, but that does not mean that one is superior to the other.  To God all His creation is equally loved, cherished  and  guided back to Him.

Thus says a teacher whom I greatly admire—“You only need to pray the rosary—for within its heart lies all. It contains all the  Gospels, the  `good news`. The entire collection of Gospels are within those tiny beads, in all its simplicity—for the Gospels are not just mere inspired, divine words, they are the story of our living God—Christ ”. Search all you want and you shall find nothing more— all one needs to do is simply open up one`s heart to the rosary , and one has found God and Our Lady, the Most Holy Theotokos.

Romantic egoists

There are many stories in the world with a moral to it—apart from Aesop`s Fables,  “The Great Gatsby” being one. Well according to my mother`s observation after watching it last night –actually what she said was, ”Every man should watch this movie  and learn from it. Let it be a lesson to those who love”. Well, goes both way dosn`t it? Men can be equally as cruel as women for we as humans are ruled by ego mostly—or perhaps call it “selfishness” —and Ayn Rand is entirely wrong! Nothing virtous about it at all.  Love does not come cheap, never did if it is real—the cost is great, as well as the human heart being rather fickle.  But most of all we always hurt the one`s we love the most. The greater the love, the greater the infliction of pain. 

Why is that?—perhaps it is wanting to destroy the other so as no one else shall have them—deform them in a way, in a fit of passion, all in the name of love naturally. Like the artist who destroys his work once he has glimpsed its beauty and is jealous lest an other will see it. Having said this—then the question arises-  “is love a blessing or a curse”?

F.Scott Fitzgerald`s biography is called: “The Romantic Egoists”—which is a wonderful title, filled with scores of  photos, copies of newspaper articles of the time, letters and such of his and Zelda`s entire life—I was hoping to give it to you for years now, but the time never seemed right. At the time when I first paged through it seemed that our story had a lot in common with theirs—ofcourse minus the grand lifestyle, money and  their fame. But—love chooses the prince as well as the pauper if one is blessed—or cursed? —Maybe it`s  karma as a good Buddhist would confess.

Rather funny—you seem to reside in my heart and head all the time –I think I am the one tied with invisible threads to the ”Escape me? Never…” clause of Browning, though I often wonder about the ”beloved” part. The truth probably lies with the words of Elizabeth I have to admit with great trepidation and fear. My lot in this life.

Divine rain

 


........and then there is rain. Below is a small excerpt from a longer piece, summarised partly, but not written by me of course—but non-the-less my love for it is as intense as that of the author. 

Perhaps I am a child of rain, of the ocean, of water itself. I, through this realization, or more precisely; revelation— have come to terms with my very existence. So, in a way rain, as is the ocean, is a symbolic anthem of my faith, my belief, my love - the song of my actual soul. The longing of my spirit for my home; homesickness perhaps. 

Our life is a short journey of mystery, an adventure, a quest of the eternal, but having true meaning only in being aware of the—“eternal now”. Rain being a symbol of the  very moment of awakening for me. Drip, drip, drip;  a constant reminder of being, a messenger of thoughts with wings—each drop having a significant  meaning, an actual implication for the very essence of  my spirit—a  special communication from God to me, as not to forget whence I have come from and whence I; as all living things shall return. 

Each rain drop is a song of thankfulness, of gratefulness and a joyful offering to Him from whom all things spring forth; from that eternal  fountain of  divine love. Indebted beyond measure for all the gifts I have and which I am ever receiving.......I am so blessed indeed for being loved! I am truly undeserving. My school`s motto was; Quid retribuam- "What shall I render?"-says it all.

 

Yes—rain is the eternal festival of God.

      Let me say this before rain becomes a utility that they can plan and 
distribute for money. By "they" I mean the people who cannot understand that rain is a festival, who do not appreciate its gratuity, who think that what has no price has no value, that what cannot be sold is not real, so that the only way to make something actual is to place it on the market. The time will come when they will sell you even your rain. At the moment it is still free, and I am in it. I celebrate its gratuity and its meaninglessness.

      The rain I am in is not like the rain of cities. It fills the woods with an immense and confused sound. It covers the flat roof of the cabin and its porch with inconsistent and controlled rhythms. And I listen, because it reminds me again and again that the whole world runs by rhythms I have not yet learned to recognize, rhythms that are not those of the engineer.

     The night became very dark. The rain surrounded the whole cabin with its enormous virginal myth, a whole world of meaning, of secrecy, of silence, of rumor. Think of it: all that speech pouring down, selling nothing, judging nobody, drenching the thick mulch of dead leaves, soaking the trees, filling the gullies and crannies of the wood with water, washing out the places where men have stripped the hillside! 

     What a thing it is to sit absolutely alone, in the forest, at night, cherished by this wonderful, unintelligible, perfectly innocent speech, the most comforting speech in the world, the talk that rain makes by itself all over the ridges, and the talk of the watercourses everywhere in the hollows!

     Nobody started it, nobody is going to stop it. It will talk as long as it wants, this rain. As long as it talks I am going to listen.

     But I am also going to sleep, because here in this wilderness I have learned how to sleep again. Here I am not alien. The trees I know, the night I know, the rain I know. I close my eyes and instantly sink into the whole rainy world of which I am a part, and the world goes on with me in it, for I am not alien to it. I am alien to the noises of cities, of people, to the greed of machinery that does not sleep, the hum of power that eats up the night. Where rain, sunlight and darkness are contemned, I cannot sleep. I do not trust anything that has been fabricated to replace the climate of woods or prairies.

     I can have no confidence in places where the air is first fouled and then cleansed, where the water is first made deadly and then made safe with other poisons. There is nothing in the world of buildings that is not fabricated, and if a tree gets in among the apartment houses by mistake it is taught to grow chemically. It is given a precise reason for existing. They put a sign on it saying it is for health, beauty, perspective; that it is for peace, for prosperity; that it was planted by the mayor's daughter.

     All of this is mystification. The city itself lives on its own myth. Instead of waking up and silently existing, the city people prefer a stubborn and fabricated dream; they do not care to be a part of the night, or to be merely of the world. They have constructed a world outside the world, against the world, a world of mechanical fictions which contemn nature and seek only to use it up, thus preventing it from renewing itself and man.

That energy is God

13 That energy is God's energy, an energy deep within you, God himself willing and working at what will give him the most pleasure. 14 Do everything readily and cheerfully - no bickering, no second-guessing allowed! 15 Go out into the world uncorrupted, a breath of fresh air in this squalid and polluted society. Provide people with a glimpse of good living and of the living God. Carry the light-giving Message into the night 16 so I'll have good cause to be proud of you on the day that Christ returns. You'll be living proof that I didn't go to all this work for nothing. 17 Even if I am executed here and now, I'll rejoice in being an element in the offering of your faith that you make on Christ's altar, a part of your rejoicing. 18 But turnabout's fair play - you must join me in my rejoicing. Whatever you do, don't feel sorry for me. 19 I plan (according to Jesus' plan) to send Timothy to you very soon so he can bring back all the news of you he can gather. Oh, how that will do my heart good! 20 I have no one quite like Timothy. He is loyal, and genuinely concerned for you. 21 Most people around here are looking out for themselves, with little concern for the things of Jesus. 22 But you know yourselves that Timothy's the real thing. He's been a devoted son to me as together we've delivered the Message. 23 As soon as I see how things are going to fall out for me here, I plan to send him off. Philippians 2:13-23

The raven is always right

 
Actually I had this up--the post below a while back, I then moved it to my other blog site--a few weeks ago, but suddenly you,  "my"spiritual teacher turning up, all is now is bathed in a different light. It needs to be here. What a difference the "Word of God" makes. But then-He is continually speaking to us in mysterious ways, we just are adamant not to hear because of the the din of the "dark one".

I thank God in guiding me to you JC-a truly holy man as well as being human you are indeed. Even in your silence your voice is being heard by thousands; your teachings are truly divinely inspired. I feel it is like that day when the wind closed the "book of gospels" on the coffin of John Paul ll--a return once more; or perhaps just deeper reminder of the sanctifying grace of God. Yes-one is literally reborn every seven years.

All glory to You O Lord and Our Blessed Mother!

Strange days indeed for a number of reasons as I question the validity of my feelings. For one, I feel happier and filled with grace more than I ever could have imagined. Yes, I question it all. What have I done to deserve this escape? My life seems to be on the exact track  for so many reasons. Deep down I feel a touch of guilt for being able to put all behind me, without a backward glance, without an extra heart beat , without a tear; time to move on with life out of Limbo.

Perhaps this is what one may term—closure. I never thought that the word was adequate to describe feeling intertwined generally with tremendous passion of the heart.  I often thought that passion was  an other word for—grace—which in term translates into—gift of God in  my dictionary.  I mentioned a while back—to everything there is a season—well I certainly didn`t say it, the Book of Ecclesiastes  does, but in a way it is all perfect. Every action, thought word acted from positive intention—is infact love, which is a step forward to God. So  love is never wasted in whatever form.

I have done much soul searching especially the past few days—a lot of mediation as peace washes over me like those waves and music. I see clearly all, and feel the power, the love and the answer to that has happened—life has unfolded and now much is revealed . The way pointing in the direction to where I have to travel from here on—the voice within that was barely audible is now like choir of angels assuring me that all is well and the way it needs to be. I accept with a heart filled with gratitude.

Nevermore; the raven is always right. Never  a glance back, never a word read from you  or never a thought from me about you; thus is my parting gift to you.