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The Hearts Longing

Love stirs the restless soul. Searching endlessly for the hearts longing. To meet in another the reassurance that we are lovable. The validation of our life. Its absence excoriating, destructive to body, mind and soul. Working out “What’s wrong with me?”

Writers and poets, songwriters, screenwriters and playwrights, mystics and sages down the human ages have made the search for love their stock in trade. And we, the audience, have sat on the edge of seats and shed a tear when our star-crossed lover heroes finally remove the barriers to their happy ever after.

Why? Because the search for love is the human story. At times I have played that role in the story of my own life. But with the help of my Spirit Guides I learnt I was searching in the wrong place. Once I started searching in the right place, I discovered something that caused me to look at my life’s experiences differently.

In the silence of a heart at once content with itself, no longer searching out there for the meaning of its pain, its truth is known. There is no separation between me and love, there never has been, there never will be. The love I seek is who I am. It was never mine to find, it was mine to be. I cannot find, something that was never lost.

There is no out there to search. Out there is the perfect reflection of that which is in here. When I deny its existence within, I cannot see it without. At once, there is so much love. Not the small amount I was searching for, just enough to provide validation and reassurance. But a raging torrent that smooths life’s hard edges as it thunders past ever onward to the vast ocean where all rivers return once again.

I can no more dam its path than I can swim upstream. I am simultaneously the river, its source and its bed, I am the flotsam and jetsam caught up in its tumultuous expression and I am the ocean in which it ends. How come I spent so long trying to dam it, to deny it, to hide from it and pretend it was not me?

I met so many people. I had the chance to reveal my true nature and validate theirs, instead I recoiled and waited for a validation that never came, that never could come. And yet, every thought I have, every word I speak, every action I take is the expression of the flow. What do I share? What impression do I make? Would they be richer for their interaction with me?

Now I understand, to make a difference is loves flow. That is how it expresses in me. To heal, to inspire, to comfort, to teach, to reassure, to validate, to listen, to tend, to receive, to forgive, to trust, to allow, to defend, to love unconditionally.

Not just one, but all. Not just occasionally, but all the time. Not just others, but me also.

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