Love As Deep Listening

Breathe, in though the nose and out through the mouth.

​Love As Deep-Listening. Have you ever smelled love? Have you ever seen love? Have you ever heard love? Have you ever felt love? Did you know, it’s all there is? If this is wrong, I don’t want to be right

Can you hear it? The whispers and hushed hollers for your well-being...The way the body speaks, the way the trees rattle their leaves to send you messages of home. The ear is but one mechanism, the spirit listens, hears and speaks and if need be, vibrates truth into the tissue of your being. Showing yourself genuine kindness can make you shake. Let the insecurities float to the top and wade in these waters. Sit with them, bathe and cleanse with them. Love them too, all these insecurities, unconcerned with judgment-your  own or others. The truth of my less-thans rang out loudly to the right of me, reminding me of the intimacy I’ve longed have with myself. Naked and soothing wounds seen and unseen in the scent of lavender, chamomile and willow leaves, I pondered an inability to tell the truth to the self even in this most exposed of states. Perfection was a haint that caused immobility in my deepest reaches. This time I breathe in only a half a breath, before this contact this crash of particles and beings, this grief of what it used to be wiped the slate of me clean. The listening done, by an ear we cannot know, and know so well all at once. This spirit, this flower, this ray of sunshine, these streaks of rain drops along the window pane  that rival any Picasso, these moments and words and feelings and sights and visions of this agreement to breath and be together, these moments tease us into remembering who we are. Are you listening? To who you are and how it changes, all these changes. Can you see it all as mirror? The trees, the mist and mountain, did you know this is you too? The distance between time and you...what is this moment but a chance to tell the truth? To live inside of the truth and the wondrous nature of the heart. Here, we meet ourselves in the clouds and the dirt, in the petals and the sighs, in the words not said and the landscape of periphery, thoughts and beings at the edge of our eyes that move us along our path. What lies along our road has been left to a knowing beyond the mind, beyond the intellect. It is a weaving, a tapestry coming together in colors so brilliant and patterns so long sometimes we may get lost in the run. Before the thread changes, and as the pattern takes form I ask you to marvel. To rest in quiet awe of the weavings of you. I ask you to listen deeply to the wisdom of love, to this voice with no body, this knowing with no end, to the conversation overheard, and the lyrics to that song that seemed to be just for you.  Listen as your breath becomes the cup you press to ether to conduct these sounds, witness the illusion of aloneness as you become one with existence. 
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​Breathe, in though the nose and out through the mouth.