if, as the beauty and wonder of who I love is who I am,
then the beauty and wonder of what I love is what I do
This couplet rings true for me deep down inside, even more so when I realize just how much in love I can be with myself; even more so when I contemplate just how much love I can bring to all that I do; and even more so when I foster a love for myself that is pure, deep and true.
In view of this love, trust, and care, I feel inspired by the beauty of love, trust, and care to embody, explore, and express a love, trust, and care that is pure, deep and true. The heart of who and what I am is love, trust, and care, and so I embody, explore, and express accordingly.
Between the beauty of my immeasurable love and my love of immeasurable beauty lies a universe of possibility that longs to be tapped, tuned, and tasted with a presence as elusive as it is mysterious ~ a presence of wisdom that yearns to be tapped, tuned, and tasted as guidance.
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with sensitivity, I trust my feelings, for they speak to the wisdom of my inner guidance
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In view of this sacred trust, the feelings to which I am a witness, positive or negative, continue to matter: they guide me with their wisdom as I craft the story of my life and give life to my story with feeling; I remain attuned and aligned with the wisdom and guidance of my feelings.
My desire to embody this life with love, to explore this life with trust, to express this life with care, is strong, and guides the course of my life. In this life I live, there are no big or small moments ~ only moments that invite me to embody, explore, and express with love, trust, and care.
As I stay true to these moments, as I make good on these moments, I become more than a recorder of experience ~ I become the author of my story. With love, trust, and care, I marvel at my apparent miss-takes, even as I wonder at those who fall outside of love, trust, and care.
As a witness to my experience, from moment to moment, I see and hear and feel the play of choice and choicelessness as awareness, even as I drink from the beauty of seamless flow, freedom, and fulfillment, yet the existential queries around encounter and experience continue . . ..
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in this moment, am I receptive or assertive?
in this moment, am I reflective or impulsive?
in this moment, am I responsive or reactive?
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The reason why these questions are so relevant and significant to me, to my being, and to my way of being, in the order in which they are posed and presented, is simply this: whenever and wherever my focus remains in flow, freedom, and fulfillment, I live . . . { happily ever after }.
In living on this planet known as Earth, in mingling with members of that beleaguered species known as human, I’ve learned in no uncertain terms that { happily ever after } is as much a perpetual optimization that brooks no consternation as it is a realization inside destination.
In the moment, I am, essentially and ideally, a 3-in-1 proposition: a witness to a spirit of generosity (by turns assertive, impulsive, and reactive) arising from a soul of gratitude (by turns receptive, reflective, and responsive) with a single perpetual question : let it be or make it so?
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fyc (for your consideration): love, trust, care . . . soul, witness, spirit . . . respectively
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In the moment, this creature of mine can all too easily suppress the love, forsake the trust, bypass the care; if someone tries to manipulate this love, this trust, and this care into giving away my consent to compliance, do I dare ignore the love, forsake the trust, and dismiss the care?
Psychological manipulation is a richly textured phenomenon, with multiple strands of questionable influence, insinuating itself like a snake into every single human relationship on Earth, but can it nevertheless rise to the challenge of facing up to a richly textured love, trust, and care?
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manipulate artfully : to control or take advantage with persuasive means or methods
manipulate unfairly : to control or take advantage through devious means or methods
manipulate harshly : to control or take advantage by way of coercive means or methods
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With respect to members of that species known as human, could their interactions and relations be drowning in the dynamics of psychological manipulation? Would any one of them know this to be true? More to the point, would any of them care enough to know this to be true? From a practical standpoint, why are humans so blind, deaf, and mute to the ravages of narcissistic and psychopathic abuse?
Are they simply too busy, lazy, stupid, ignorant, and immature for their own good?
Or is there far more going on here than meets the proverbial eye, ear, and tongue?
In light of these questions, (1) what are we to make of those who indulge all manner of cravings for sadistic aggression at the expense of social cohesion, and (2) what are we to make of those who seek positions of social prominence to indulge their cravings for sadistic aggression?
By way of response to these questions, I hear the voice of reason reach out to the heart: “why bother with such? Be the change you wish to see, hear, and feel; just go about your life and live it the best way you know how; find your own purpose and passion and make good on both.”
All points well taken, but I would add that a loyal and devoted sensitivity to feeling with and through creative, intuitive intent would, eventually, approach a constancy of ecstasy, in and out of intimacy, that brings with it the serious risk of leaving everyone else behind. However . . .
When I do extend a sensitivity to feeling beyond myself, I cannot say I like what I see . . .
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I resign myself to the fact that I live in a world where souls everywhere have been calcified and petrified by fear, doubt, and worry ~ by way of guilt, shame, and regret. I suppose it was only a matter of time before I could swallow this fact, and then allow myself to digest it fully.
This sad and sorry world contains and constrains far too many souls for its own good, whose time and vital energies are consumed by work they would rather not do, and by things they would rather not have, were it not for those gray and dour influences of their fellow sojourners.
The mass retreat to digital ways and worlds is a panacea that cannot and will not last for long; the censorship that is rampant and more readily apparent with each passing day is exposing itself for all to see; and the fakery that passes as news is feeling more predictable by the day.
Given that the bulk of humanity seems as good as dead and done, I find myself in wonder: has it always been this way? In retrospect, I hardly think it fair that I can look back in time from where I am now, with a vast cosmic awareness of life, and supply a viewpoint without bias.
Be this as it may, who is one to be and what is one to do in a dead sea of conformity and mediocrity? At what point would I be ready, willing, and able to re-join the human family? For now, I am my own best friend, and so, I can be friendly with just about anyone, if given half a chance.
A bond, however, is forever at risk of devolving into a bond-age, especially now, in the midst of a global war, and so, for me, there are no friends, frenemies, or friend-friends in the ultimate sense ~ just friendly relations that are more or less deep and true, lasting as long as they do.
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In view of this rather grim passage, I cannot help but appreciate it for expressing sordid realities that have pushed me inward over time, while also pulling me outward with sensitivity by way of creativity, affording me a good measure of when I live for self and when I live for others.
Truth be told, more than ever, I prize a loyal and devoted sensitivity to feeling, and I prize those who likewise prize when they say “I need some time for myself” or “no hurry, no worry” or “sorry, too much small talk” or “I think I’ll wait until this noisy, busy crowd has moved on.”
In this world at this time, negative emotion is everywhere apparent; conflict and anger grow more sporadic by the day; stress levels are rising, more or less. What is most ironic about these times is that, under constraint, we find no shortage of opportunities to bring dark to light.
I also see no shortage of intrepid souls ready and willing to make good on such opportunities.
Is it not so that a mass awakening longs and yearns for a great reckoning?
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who do I now love, in wonder, for a taste of beauty?
for a taste of beauty, I wonder: what do I love now?
who do I love now, in wonder, for a taste of beauty?
~ yours