Patience seems to always make its reprise, unknowingly to itself, at a child’s laugh. Trees kindly wave their hellos, the branches tempting, alluring invitation to see new angles into elevated freedom and wind-chilled cheeks. The buzzing rigor and austerity accompanying a bee’s missionality, leaves wonder found in color and bloom.
I can’t help but believe that this divine energy, underlining and infusing, exploring and stabilizing all of creation, is bound to a linear transfer or procession. When attentive to being, you’ll find in glimpses, this Source flicks and floods and beckons and parades our participation in life. There’s a definite systematic methodology we’re innately aware and supportive of, even yearning and hastily constructing in our own coarse, finite, and fragile means. Relationships are seen as investments, dispensing resources and energy with piecemeal utilitarian tact towards posterity. Sense of place is held to loosely and comfortably, to make available the choice to engage the next lucrative job advancement or resume padding, partitioning us from intentionality and embrace of community and setting.
It’s easy to recognize and facilitate Love that procures longevity of well-being and stability. Yes, love is found in a mutual exchange. There’s a giving that accompanies receiving. A symbiotic nature threads through the intent of choices and actions: it’s primal and natural and lovely. We’re keen to see and live in the apparent. This author I adore, Cynthia Bourgeault, quoted a piece by the great Sufi mystic jalalludin Rumi that conveys a beautiful tone on self-emptying love.
“Love is recklessness, not reason.
Reason seeks a profit.
Loves comes on strong, consuming herself, unabashed.
Yet in the midst of suffering,
Love proceeds like a millstone,
Hard-surfaced and straight forward.
Having died to self-interest,
She risks everything and asks for nothing.
Love gambles away every gift God bestows.”
How do we love first, without any desired response? How do I give recklessly and uninhibited? Can we have our being in a vulnerability that risks and bares it all? As Cynthia Bourgeault refers, how do we make abundance and generosity bordering extravagance, our signature?