In a moment, I asked myself, “Is there space 4hideousness? Is there space 4shame & terror? Yes. Yes, there is. There’s room 4it all. End of story.”

In that instant, my attention turned away from a random story I was telling myself to the spaciousness of my being. I was freshly at home, where we always are!

Just like the stars and the fireflies. 🙂

In knowing who I am in truth, there is nothing to fear. No emotion, no thought, no loss can trample the truth of my being.

The inherent, ever present peace of the open heart is the true sanctuary.

Not that I can avoid pain as a human being, but when it comes, I can be true to the recognition —> the heart gracefully, peacefully holds it all in love, and for me that is living freely and living consciously.

“When love beckons to you follow him, Though his ways are hard and steep. And when his wings enfold you yield to him, Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. And when he speaks to you believe in him, Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden. For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning. Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun, So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth……

But if in your fear you would seek only love’s peace and love’s pleasure, Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love’s threshing-floor, Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears. Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.

Love possesses not nor would it be possessed; For love is sufficient unto love. And think not you can direct the course of love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course. Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself.”

But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires: To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night. To know the pain of too much tenderness. To be wounded by your own understanding of love; And to bleed willingly and joyfully.”
― Khalil GibranLe Prophète

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