Love is Never Lost

images LOVE IS NEVER LOST

Love is never lost.  Every experience of love threads into another until together they construct a mountain range that harbours tenderness shared.  Towards the end of our lives, love stands revealed as the golden path of scintillating filaments that weave our history.  At its very centre appears a flame, ignited by the unmistakable fire of a single most intense experience that reached our inner core and breathed life into all the rest, defining the beginning of time lived.

The love of my life rescued me from the meaninglessness of ordinary relationships.  It was frightening at first, volatile and tempestuous, deeply stirring, fragile and defiant, friendly, playful, and also all involving.  We fell into inner shadowy whirlpools and arose quietly in luminous resonance time and again.  Our sharing defined the future and severed us from the past.  It was an experience we would not, could not, ever repeat, and it would bear the weight – as memories of pain and ecstasy – for all the future loves.

There is always such an impression in the life of a whole woman, even if it is an extraordinary father, a loving brother, or a challenging, inspiring friend.  It cannot be sought, forged or possessed.  It is important to be open for it, to allow it when it comes, to flow with the currents that invariably deviate us from a prior course, and also to know when it is time to let it go and continue alone, all-one.  Illusion, fantasy, attachment and dependence mar the otherwise perfect learning exchange that can occur between two persons on different and simultaneous levels, altering each in innumerable ways inside, and preparing them for the world.

After twenty-five years of seeing one another infrequently and always briefly, for no apparent reason one morning I awoke remembering “us”.  It was a retake of when we were seekers in India in the late 70’s.  As he often did, he stood, questioningly, waiting and indirectly challenging me to remind him of himself.   I always posed questions that were unanswerable, too complicated for ordinary conversation; it was the fragrance of these questions that invisibly impregnated the fabric of our life together.

Rekindling the almost forgotten intimacy, in my mind I asked: 

“After all we have seen, together and on our own… what is Truth? Love?  Life?”

Revelations surfaced, as they always do in love. 

I saw truth as an infinite progression of windows, revealing an ever fluctuating dynamic of scenarios that change without ever refuting the original premise.  No one truth greater than another, I recognized love as the flavour that makes all possible, and intimacy as that current that vividly oscillates when we are “seen” by another and our Self stands revealed. 

I saw our lives unfolding so very differently than we had imagined.  Still, the indelible imprint of that sharing long ago, and so many others that would follow, magically endowed us with the faculty to see and understand a picture greater than our own.  Life became a journey, traced from the depths of being, peaking at various points of shared experience, and then ebbing again to enfold appearance with silken waves of multicoloured particles. Now older, our needs demand quiet satisfaction and serenity while our hearts remember agonising moments with a smile.

Love is sweet and tender, strong and devastating, challenging and confirming.  It is all kinds of things. The voracity of its first fire softens with time until it is but a gently pulsing pillar of light that holds all our loves together.

 “Dear Man, with you, I shared the ocean. With you I dove into the inner abyss of becoming and emerged renewed.  In those moments, I tasted eternity and the name of it was love.

Ours was a passionate intensity that had little to do with the all-consuming need that dressed it, and everything to do with the voracious hunger of our souls.  Danger shared and honed, it was an experience that now leads us Home, knowing we have “lived.”

Thank you!

And then I saw the twinkle in his eyes, the one that betrayed him when he was being mischievous, and I felt his big, sensitive hands that softly held my own.  I sank deeply inside those liquid eyes, forever now my own.

 

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Follow The Inner Woman

Get every new post on this blog delivered to your Inbox.