There is a person in my life who has an uncanny knack for appearing, sometimes after years of no contact, at exactly the moment I am experiencing myself in a truly beloved place. We have known each other almost ten years now, there is history and there is heartbreak and there is growth between us. I suppose floating in and out of each other’s lives without any real anchor may be serving some purpose, but it haven’t been able to discern yet what that purpose might be…
These past weeks I have been experiencing a balanced peace that rests fully in a feeling of wholeness, a respite from the kind of relentless searching that has, in the past, created unrealistic expectations and deep sadness. I’ve never thought of this search as one fueled by depression as some would like me to believe. Rather, I think of it as ‘Desire and the Quest for the Beloved’ (subtitle for the book by Trebbe Johnson ‘The World is a Waiting Lover’). The search comes with an acknowledgement and awareness that what I most often need, I can find within the vast resource of me.
This is a fantastic book, and like my human friend who has a talent for appearing unexpectedly, this book too will often call to me from the shelf at surprising times. Heavily underlined, every third page or so is turned at the corner to yet another gem contained in the richness of its 297 pages. And it was no surprise that this book would be calling to me this morning after a tumultuous week of negotiating the aftermath of an unexpected visit from my aforementioned friend.
Today, I manage to open to exactly where I need to be. She (author Johnson on page 121) says,
“How to tell BELOVED from beloved? How to extract the fruits of love and extract them to sweeten the life we have sole charge of, so that we can walk with Beloved no matter what mortal may be at our side? Love lures us as the orchid seduces the insect into its succulent orifice, and willingly the insect obeys, believing the cleverly adapted petals and stamens to be its own waiting mate. The insect zooms into the chamber of fertility and discovers there is no insect, but a being of another species, just striving to thrive, as all things do. There is no mate, but there is sweet pollen, and this the insect obligingly takes along as it gullibly approaches the next gorgeous lothario. Desire lures the insect in, and unrequited desire makes it depart, loaded with the very stuff that will keep insect imitators alive and insects seeking. How do we find the pollen in a love relationship and take it forth, and not get stuck snuggling in the lushness of the flower, demanding that the bloom transform itself into the bug we mistook it for?
It’s hard….I believe that attaining at least some level of intimacy with the Beloved, the guide to the soul, who may or may not be the opposite sex of the questing human – or even come in human form – is entirely possible.”
I get this. It is a sweet place to be even if it lasts for only a definitive period of time. I always know I will find it again. I’ve come to believe that this aforementioned friend is the soulmate I most assuredly must have contracted with to seduce me out of this place, just when I think I know my heart, or know what I think I know, to remind me never to get stuck snuggling in the lushness of the flower. He appears, and in a swirl of attraction to the sweet pollen of desire, I have to once again reckon with the fact that he simply will never be the bug I have mistaken him for. I am challenged all over again to take the pollen of this love and go forth anew to share its power with the world in ways that I am destined to…
Luckily it does not take me long to re-engage with my Beloved. I began this breathtakingly beautiful day today filled with warmth, spring blossoms,
and yoga practice in front of open window with sacred tree just outside.
It’s been too long since I have totally given in to the rhythm of movement and repose that comes in clear spontaneous sequence. Delicious. After, walking, the land I now call home envelops me in its massive embrace. Large boulders simply command me to stop and commune when encountered.
Each of these deeply rooted presences reminds me of where I can be immovable in anger awakened by this recent interruption to my peace. Humbled by the fact that I might not ever see these boulders ever move, I know that even they too have had to shift from one place to another over time, and so too shall I.
Then there is the lush display of paperwhites that all opened simultaneously over night all at the same time in a breathtaking display of light and sensuousness,
and line the path that invites the world to my front door.
Later, I venture out and arrive home with gorgeous plant starts purchased from my young farmer neighbors up the road and it becomes a day to connect, and finally put hands in the dirt. I’ll have my new homemade raised beds filled before the week is out.
It is the beginning of long days engaging with the rich variety of abundant growth all around me.
I have once again allowed myself to fall deeply in love with where I am
and know it is enough.