If only I had understood the concept of my relationship with myself earlier. I was unaware that God has always been within me. If people realized that all they needed to do was confide in themselves, wouldn't love become universal? When I withhold, walls go up around me. "I can always be found," says God. God isn't some external entity separate from me, but an integral part of my being. God is the one thing that can always be found, no matter how hard you try to avoid it. When I think of all the people I love, the people I consider family, I can only hope that they too can confide in their own divinity. If they seek advice from me, their ego could easily reject it as coming from an external source. The message might get misinterpreted. But if the message comes from within their own sanctuary, then it has the potential for transformation. Your relationship with yourself will last forever; it is the strongest bond you have.
The love in my past relationship was a selfish love. It was exclusive and eventually became sterile, running past its shelf life. This happened because I lost touch with myself.
It's hard to profess undying love to someone you barely know. Indeed, it's challenging even for people you've known for a while! Why do I suddenly love everyone so openly? I've barely spoken to them. I don't know who they are, yet their presence evokes feelings I can't deny. Is there some invisible connection? Am I blind to the truth? When I create an image of them in my imagination, love floods my entire system. While they may not realize it, if asked, I would do anything for them. They are my brothers and sisters. I don't desire them sexually; rather, I want them to recognize the truth of love, which transcends normal, waking consciousness and is beyond what words can express.
I'm not quite sure how to tell someone that I love them unequivocally, yet have no physical interest in them. I wish to join them on some sort of astral plane, transcending time, and be with them forever. When I look into their eyes and see happiness, is that a reflection of my own joy? In my meditations, I can gaze into the Great Eye of Nothingness and meld into oneness. That's what I aim to achieve when looking into someone else's eyes: I want to merge in a non-threatening yet loving manner. It's happened before, and I've scared people, which was never my intention. Quite the opposite, actually. Love can be scary. My ideal aspiration is now to become part of a larger group of like-minded individuals whose goal is to spread love—equally, freely, and without reservations.
This post was written November 10, 2006
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