tell the lovers I am Home

Tell the lovers I am Home. 

It's been a long and laborious journey. I can't say it's complete and yet I feel I am sailing on different waters, arriving a different harbor soon. 

I wish I had the tenderest words to express this sense of coming Home after seeking the physical manifestation of love on the road, in every cave and forest, mountain tops and across the oceans, deserts and vision quests, adventure after adventure, holy pilgrimages of the Soul, falling onto my knees and praying, sometimes reaching out like a beggar - oh yes, I've been the beggar of love -, waiting and waiting, running after ghost-lovers, howling at the moon and weeping with the rain, etching dreams in the air, tearing down sand castles, being washed on the shores of longing and abandonment, longing-oh-longing...

I've been addicted to waiting on the doorstep of 'love' - or what I perceive to be love, the potential of love - in anticipation, heaving and willing, like a loyal soldier, but actually never crossing that threshold into the real encounter, the messy, chaotic, unpredictable territory of intimate relationships. I made my home on the steps, at a safe distance - terribly haunting but familiar place of liminality. 

The glimpse or promise of love appears at the door and allures me to take a step close in, only to wistfully disappear, leaving me bewildered, lost and longing even more. 

I've been chasing after the tail of this colorful kite, which seems to soar only a little higher, a little further despite my stubborn attempts to catch it, to no avail. 

I recently gave up. I fell on my knees and bowed my head to the ground, weeping the bittersweet tears of longing and loss, fully diving into this existential grief, essentially surrendering to my commitment to wholeness and sacred union which requires of sacrificing this life-long illusion of egocentric love, leaning into another to give me love, to fill me up, to bring me alive. 

"Reverence, rather than expectation or entitlement, acknowledges we live in a gifting cosmos and that we do best honoring creation by singing praises. Reverence acknowledges that what we are seeing or seeking is holy; that we depend utterly on this world to breathe and to dream. We are designed for encounter, our senses are rivers of connection in a continuous exchange with the world around us. How deeply we experience this encounter, what we come to recognize and discover, is a question of presence, of reverence."
Francis Weller

I surrender my will to do/act/perform to be loved, I put down my righteous entitlement to love and my insistence of how it should be, I understand that it's no one other than me who abandons this longing heart. Grief allows me to humbly move from entitlement to reverence and tenderness in which I can be present with what is and open to receive. 

The narrow, tight-for-my-soul vision and experience of love that is falsely funneled towards and demanded from one mere form of Creation, mostly, desperately being projected as a romantic, sexual relationship is like trying to squeeze in the vast sky through a bottleneck and the pressure is immense! Whereas this vast sky, this existential larger-then-life energy is to be lived, practiced with and placed upon whole Creation, in an ongoing erotic dance of life force pulsing through matter and space. 

In fact I am THAT in this human form and love flows in every direction, plane and channel beyond time and space, suffusing every surface and particle it comes in contact with, in its unhurried, enoughness kind of elegant way...

But to shed this conditioning of "getting love" involves fundamentally reorganizing one's psyche, mind-body-soul dimensions. Growing out of it has been astonishingly painful. This is like death, I thought to myself often. More painful than the illusion and disgrace of chasing after love. And more liberating than the combination of all self-development work I have done my whole life. I continue being humbled on this path, at the feet of my own Life, guided by my precious Soul. 

"Most of us go through an egocentric phase, sometimes lasting an entire lifetime, in which we fervently believe an intimate engagement with a lover is the thing that will save us, complete us, or make our world right. We believe, in other words, that a romantic relationship will somehow accomplish for us the task of our soulwork."
Bill Plotkin 

No, it won't do. Soulwork is mine and I take my responsibility for it.
I return Home to my body, my pleasure, my longing, my devotion, my Presence, my nectar, my holy container
my Love. 

So, tell them the lovers, I am Home. 

If I love the World, this life, wholeheartedly, fully, boldly,
with unequivocal commitment, with no hesitation, no holding back, 
if I remain - unconditionally - in love, awestruck, innocent and faithful,
the Creation surely will find a way to love me back, 
and it already does, with fragrant flowers, lush waters, 
birdsong and pomegranates, the face and voice of the Beloved, 
everyday mysteries and sunrise and coffee,

as much as I receive, as much as I can, as much as I allow
the Beloved loves me in thousand ways.