A Quandary About Love
A Perplexed Predicament about Love in This World
This morning shapes itself into a quandary about Love
And it's flow in my life.
Everything is This Love emanating out of its vast no-thing-ness into everythingness and this human with the capacity to know, feel, sense and directly experience This to some degree all the time.
Even including these houseflies that literally bug me — really?
Sometimes the glory of it is all I perceive and experience: everything disappears. Other times my attention has gone surface, splashing in the sea foam with everyone. Some little bubble is all there is. Bubbles of troubles in muddles of quandary.
My sleeping has been a bit off lately. I can attribute it to many things, nothing, simply accepting stuff is going on at so many levels in this changeless ever-changing domain of Being human. Sometimes my system is just aplomb, sometimes a wrench is thrown in the works.
This morning, I get up late and get going, keeping my commitment to sitting to write every day for 3 hours 9 to noon for 30 days, the month of November, and about half way through hit into other demands of my time and attention. I was warned that around day 15, wrenches... Did the warning set something into the field of infinite possibilities? hmmm... 9:15am I get into my seat to write this quandary out, find out what it offers. Who knows where the time goes?
How This Love loves through me, this peculiar woman person of the Person, this unique being of Being, in particular—that's the inquiry/quandary.
It's a force to be reckoned with, that's for sure. It wants to go everywhere, in a chaordic fashion that doesn't often have my conscious mind or intentions in the loop. I simply find myself doing things, going places, staying home, non-doing, everything ... it varies. It, I, flow into different shapes and activities continuously. I feel like Odo, a ST: Deep Space 9 changeling extraordinaire.
I looked around my cabin and my life, this world, and wondered this morning, how do I love all this into its shining beauty? I, of course, do not. It is all already loved and loves beyond the bounds of my ideas of how — and it does so from right within everything. Despite the quandary, there’s an inner assurance about This.
They say routines are really helpful. I can't seem to stick to one. Discipline to get and keep one? I've had that, at least to some degree in the past, had to have one to get where I needed to go. Had that coupled with passive resistance to it.
I recently saw, in my inner eye, a structure for the currency of Love to flow into all these rivulets, aqueducts that comprise a life. Somehow today, it's all flowing hither, thither and yon just fine, yet I'm in my life, being here, confounded.
Just love the next thing that appears and give all this loving attention to it.
Nice. Simple. It comes in like a balm, and breathes my system into an open relaxed state. Here is flowing Love in action.
I become aware of this experience that names itself quandary. Something is burgeoning in my system where love is flowing as well, and I sit to write.
It's an amazing process that I can't help but love with my whole being.
Writing is something I've done forever. Publishing, authoring is something new: discovering how This Love reaches out to make contact, touch hearts and souls in their own quandaries of life and love.
There's a lot of self-promotion involved. I've always relied on word of mouth, never been one to promote myself. Just never could do it. It's up to the ‘The Great MySelf’ as Paramahansa Yogananda put it: Love appearing as appreciators in action. All artists rely upon it, businesses too, science as well. Don’t we all?
The Word spreads out in Love’s undercover actions in and through us.
I read other published authors. This morning just on Substack, I went several places, some I enjoyed, some not so much. All these shared experiences of people's love quandaries — that's how I see it this morning.
I was in Vienna with a woman having a rough time of it, then with Yeshua's parable on the master and slaves with the talents: a new interpretation of him as whistleblower, calling out the enslavement to the prevailing paradigm. Yeshua was so radically awake to the Real, thank Goodness.
I traveled with
in the Hudson Valley and to the Atlantic Coast with her rock, the rock her father gave her. I reflected on these styles of writing along with the content and context. Sophie's writing is like a workout with metaphors I acknowledge; that I know whereof they come. Yet I feel like a turning gyroscope landing here and there in intimacies with earth and moments I never knew possible. Deepens and expands my appreciation for it all. She says, "make me good soil" and that gets more real for me all the time. Good Soil. I grow Here. A tree of life planted in the Garden of Being’s bosom.I am closer in, somehow, in these excurions love takes me on in an hour in the morning when I could have been attending to so many other things. These strange rafts on wild rivers of human life which I am loving instead of the other places calling to me to love. Like these flies bugging me to attend to them. Many aqueducts are calling for the flow.
Somehow the Love just pulses out. There are places inside here where all This Is, the Love — especially as co-existent with the other boundless dimensions of Being/nonBeing — is sound, is secure. is reliable.
A simple breath carries within it all of This and more!
Here we are, a little blue planet of amazing Life as a unit of Unity in infinite diversity. The Life Herein is meant to, designed to harmoniously work together to sustain and maintain Itself — and we humans are hell bent on ruining it. Quandary.
My actions with all this knowing can be part of the restricted destructiveness. Love lets us face these places, admit them into consciousness where they get to see the light of day, be heard and understood. Where they and therefore we get to be held and responded to with deep acceptance and loving purpose in kindness and compassion—the disciplines of a disciple of Love are in vogue.
Where do these words, sentiments come from? It's whole Being involved in sussing out what's actually here in this moment with the awareness in and of the Now. I call it presencing, a profound level of unity and being with our experience as it is, communing throughout a multi- inter-dimensional personal consciousness while, in this moment, it’s appearing as simple letters being typed on a screen.
It’s simply Be Here Now in wholeness, holiness, whole-I-ness.
Inquiry is nothing without the Presence of Love.
It's how science is done in this world. All so mental. Even some of the greatest minds on earth whose discoveries were born of the Great Beyond through their deep study of the matters at hand, and going beyond the known. And then their findings got used by the same machine for profit, power and domination. They loved the discovery process. They wanted to understand the depths of life, but they missed the consciousness within all matter that simply loves. Many scientists still miss out even while their hearts and souls are in the work.
It’s all This very precious sacred Life.
They live and work out of an inaccurate paradigm, and it has gone profoundly awry. And with that, Love still calls from every subatomic particle to far out into the laniakea web of intergalatic universal emanations. It sings straight out of the great black wHoly hole that draws it all together while it’s also expanding beyond the beyond. We explores go beyond the outer limits we can barely conceive of where everything comes from nowhere, NowHere. We are observing it, yes? How amazing is that? Our perspective has impact.
An outlying whistleblower of Love Am I, the I Am that I Am. It works in and through all of Itself continuously, and that means you, dear reader, as you consider my quandary and your own.
How are we to let the Love free -- free to Be in dyanamic conscious Unity?
Right now, isn't it so? Isn't it doing its works right this very second, as these letters, words, sentences pour forth and you take them in, nourishing something precious—wondrously invaluable within us both?
Got a bit of welling there, myself, a sweetness that melts as Love expresses Itself. That's what you and I are. So, quandary resolved?
For Now and forever, world without end … nor beginning, This Love alive and real, natural and human, you and I Its emissaries.
Another offering from the soundtrack of my youth, the great Judy Collins:
Who knows how My Love grows? . . .
I see that your writing is changing, improving. Perhaps it is the flies. I would not get rid of them till certain what, if any, affect they have on your expressiveness. I like how you use them to ground the flow of your ink by coming back to them as though they are an anchor point in the telling and not just some pesky house fly that comes and goes. Your writing today seem to have many clever word plays and tongue twisters like "Bubbles of troubles in muddles of quandary." Personally I like words and phrases that make me exercise my tongue and oddly add more juice to the reading and more saliva to my mouth. Keep it up! I like that your theme of love keeps widening as it spins around in your mind and the play of the pen. With each spiral different images/intuitions arise and yet you astutely refuse to spin out with them and continue the discipline of coming back to the center. Odo and Major Kiera would be pleased. Yes Odo was indeed a most complex character playing with love off the foil of the Major and the goo. I wonder what a musing of yours would look like if there was more Quark and less quirk?