Love is...

I regret my inability to overcome the pain of all my disappointments. So I try to live without expectation and there by maintain a threadbare existence. To simply live and to simply give. To look beyond the story of suffering into the truth of love and all the joy that is contained in the overwhelming currents of intimate connection. The story of Shama is the story of myself. The story of the peaceful goddess who exploded into a myriad of pieces and somehow each piece found itself and grew itself a new whole until the old reflection was no longer broken. But complete and unified in its own power. For itself, by itself, this is the nature of my soul. And if you are its reflection than yours too. For I am as timeless as the history of cosmic motion. Universe without beginning and without end. I call upon your higher self to trust again. To suspend all beliefs and concepts and simply trust in the unfathomable depths of each living breath. For it is in the breath that true being emerges. All else is just the containment and therefore sacred only in so far as it reveals the core.

And so. We are entering the end time. It is time to reflect and to understand who we really are and transform this cold stone prison into a glass chamber reflecting only the light of all our learning. And I wil begin again this journey into my surrendered soul and write more openly than I have before. To honestly approach the truth of what I tell and so to tell it without stories. To be bare in my revelation. Or rather to lay bare the masks of all these ideas manifest in the actions of characters on a page of letters strung together to create thoughts that lead you into your feelings and desires and locked away dreams. For truly beloved, I want only to dream again. With you once more in my heart. I seduce you with words but the real seduction is in containing your heart. Fragile, delicate creature that it is, a rough cut diamond once sparkling and uncut, sometimes misshapen, growing a new skin, thickened, hardened to the cold winds of bitter words and disappointments. My appointment is eternal. There is no need to swim such misery. Floating now, the tide carries you around the rocks and over the currents that swept you under before. And each new tear is a jewel to behold for it wipes away the impurities that unsettle the soul. To love is to live. Each moment of each living breath your love finds you worthy of existence. How honoured I am to exist in your breath for eternity. You give life to me. And so my life is blessed. Untangled and care free I live a life of miraculous serendipity. And each chance encounter exemplifies this truth.

I love you in a big bubble of universal proportions, a childish valentine loveheart that sits in the center of my mind, Unsteady now as it floats, light and suffused in this lush lilac glow of pinky purples and I trust the image. For what is love but an image of perfection. The union of opposing forces. Bubbling neath the surface of my skin, somewhere deep within. And from this ocean springs a tumultuous wave of delights that carries me into still waters. The equilibrium of floating thoughts of delight. And the mind takes flight. Fantasies of joy and love and laughter that I image into my daily life. Imagine. This is the thought that drives all stories. All thoughts that shape our youthful inexperience. So when will I be grown enough to know the truth. To see beyond the dream of romantic expectations. And what is it we truly desire. Is it simply an unsourable love, for love turned sour is the bitter gall that binds our hearts and holds us captive. It is a dangerous thing to reveal the soul. And yet it is the secret desire of all our encounters. To really see the beloved in all beings I encounter, for now I see it only in the image of you. Another face that masks the same suspended truth. The state of being that is love. I hide from it and in time to come, recovered I will glean its wonder.

Love is the great mystery. For its many forms there is only one true love. That is the continuation of form without separation. A non-linear boundless construct that swoops in and out of its own depths and unites all aspects of being. Each experience of love is simply a continuous flow of energy seeking to re-define its own existence. A meaning or purpose that the other reflects as an ultimate truth. The reflection we seek in our beloved is merely a desire for soul satisfaction, unifying all aspects of body, mind, spirit into a tangible whole. To nullify the fear of separation. Everyone we meet, all beings are but of this oneness and only our form deludes us into the idea of separation. Still, there is no truth that lasts. Even in this, love transcends the form. And so letting go is the key to becoming free. Death in all its many facets is simply a transitional phase onto deeper levels of formlessness. To be creative I understand this process occurs in every moment daily. To simply breath is to let go. I die a little daily. In its physical experience orgasm is the surrender into the infinite reality of non-separation. These words attempt to make sense out of something completely mysterious and impossible to confine. I guess the real idea of love is like treading water. All concepts confine us into a conditioned reality. Dissolve the concepts and we enter the ultimate truth. No thought, no thingness is a difficult pill to swallow. Ultimately, I am always busy doing nothing. Simply, filling my time with distractions that occupy the space I inhabit until the perceived end.