Love has to go through darkness and pain
Love has to go through darkness and pain and endurance and a stark acceptance before it can come out into the far light of the sun.
Love has to go through darkness and pain and endurance and a stark acceptance before it can come out into the far light of the sun.
When someone has compassion on us, we find ourselves really seen, heard, attended to. If someone's attention is genuinely compassionate, it does not stop at attentiveness: he or she is willing to speak, act, or even suffer with us and for us. It is in such passivity, as we receive their compassion, that the most powerful dynamics of our own feeling and activity are shaped. Amazed gratitude for such compassion can last a lifetime.
May the Holy One preserve in me a burning love for the world and a great gentleness.
All loves are but the reflection of One Love and ultimately lead to that love.
This is one of the things that love is called upon to do:
To affirm and sustain the seed in another human being even though no tangible evidence has been given of the nature and quality of the seed that is growing there. Love depends upon the capacity to reach beneath the surface of persons, to feel and touch the seed of life that is hidden there. And love becomes a power when it is capable of evoking that seed and drawing it forth from its hiding place.
Deep within us all, there ís an amazing inner sanctuary of the soul, a holy place, a Divine Center, a speaking Voice, to which we may continuously return. Eternity is at our hearts, pressing upon our time-torn líves, warming us wíth intimatíons of an astounding destiny, calling us home unto itself. Yielding to these persuasions, gladly committing ourselves in body and soul, utterly and completely, to the Light Within, is the beginning of true life. It is a dynamic center, a creative Life that presses to birth within us. It is a Light Within which illumines the face of God and casts new shadows and new glories upon the face of humanity.
The energy of human consciousness may share an afflnity with light that we do not yet understand. Turning toward that light, we might find it the source of all our inspiration and creativity.
The silence as broken at last by the bell signifying the end of morning activity. Turning to the old woman, I asked, "What are you looking at?" I immediately flushed. Prying into the lives of the residents was strictly forbidden. Perhaps she had not heard. But she had. S1ow1y she turned toward me, and I could see her face for the first time. It was radiant. In a voice filled with joy she said, "Why, child, I am looking at the Light."
The mind is to be a reservoir of Light — free, ready to give color and form, ready to speak from Wisdom's Source. Silence is the opening note. The Indwelling Light illumines the heart and mind, loosening the sightless, stormswept self. The freeing of Light, of God's own Life within, is the means of self-expression — not self-filled expression — but God-like freedom.