how we love this being!

Over and over, longing seeks to express its own sweet beauty, a joy that explodes in first sunlight and the tender drift of rising waxbills, when clouds ripple and nothing moves. Grasses bow in pleasure to leaves that tremble on the skin of wind and cool air curves kindly around a crescendo of the wild, in love, and there is nothing or else we are all that. There was once a poor man who prayed all day longing for God. He was asked, what good does this do? He had no answer and stopped praying. In his dream he was told: “I was in the longing.” What is it that listens to the heart and silently yields such tender fulfillment? Is it love seeing love amid trees, fleeting, sorrows, joys that manifest briefly, life’s one song that it cannot not sing? What is it that listens beyond the noise of worries and small things? Wherever you might detect conflict, my love, divisiveness is involved, the root of all unease. Stories about me, you, world, and others, ah, yes, it’s then that longing reveals itself, dear, and it is nothing other than love again, and nothing arises outside this love. Fish and blackberries are the deep things of God as is laundry, plumeria blossoms bathe a garden in fragrance, tomatoes ripen as beauty, We are either in love or called back to love - this Being ease.

credit photo: aaron greenwood | unsplash