Poverty of The Rich
We all want something, need something; we do not come from richness, abundance, content; we come from “I want, I need, I expect.” We all come from poverty when it comes to love. It is so sad and so not right when we are all, in truth, wealthy with love.
We turn our back to the largest and most abundant source of love within us; we are blind to this rich, giving, none holding, and loving source that is always available, always open, always there, always generous with love. We act surprised, shocked, and disappointed when all other so-called “sources” of love turn us down sooner or later; when their “ability” to love and nourish dries up, we seem at odds with reality, thinking that what is momentary is permanent. Therefore the suffering we go inevitably through is none expected.
What is more is that when we face the inevitable and that “love” turns to be not up to our lofty dreams and expectations, we start to become upset, angry, and resolute to complain or manipulate. Manipulation is an aggressive none loving act; it is not loving, it cannot produce love in another, yet we cannot help it.
If after we tried everything we could and waited long enough, we resolute to a more aggressive action, we simply “drop” and “end” that “love” and walk away. Love, true love cannot end; it does not have an expiry date, it does not require conjuring, demanding, asking for, or any aggressive or clever tactics to “earn” it or to “have” it. Love seeks to give, provide, hold, and protect; it aims to be. Love finds its true joy in being, in passing; it does not play games, manipulate, dry up, hurt, demand, or anything of the sort. True love is like a river; it does not mind who drinks from it, who cleans their clothes in it, who throw even their dirt and garbage in it; it sweeps it away within its currents and remains pure and giving.
True love is mighty and complete and joyful and calm and peaceful and persistent and constant and everlasting. If we know that, we realize it cannot be of this world of temporaries and temporal.
It cannot be part of the outer, of the façade of the time-based realities; it cannot be part of the human game of looking for the better or the show or the competition. Love brings perfection to that which cannot be perfect; it brings the beauty of all universes to mundane and straightforward and not beautiful by this world’s standards. Love is so tender that it knows nothing about inflecting hurt or pain on another. The hands of love are made of silk and air, and they know only the delicate touch of healing and acceptance.
True love can only originate from beyond the temporal, and in many ways, it requires no one else to exist to feel it, has it, enjoy it, and live it. Just allow it to be, and it will be.
