love is personal


I admit I am a control freak. Even when something isn’t my fault I like to blame myself for it so that I can maintain control. In other words, if I change then things will be ok. There is, truth to this but not always. Sometimes people do things to us that are not our fault, and it’s not in our control or power to change the situation unless we are willing to compromise on whatever it is that is going on. There is karma coming and that’s why shit happens, but karma perpetuates only more of the same shit happening and so we must look very clearly at ourself and at the other who we would like to be responsible for energetically- so much so, that we make their behavior our responsibility to transform. It’s a touchy topic and there is such a thing as commitment and discernment. Committing to what? You should ask yourself the best that can be hoped for and is it enough. Discernment- is this a situation where committing is in the best more progressive interest of all- including myself. Not that I can save anyone, because I can’t. And especially those who don’t even want to be saved, but I wish they did so I could continue to hide behind them- as some sort of martyr savior facing my karma, when really, I’mΒ just dark and afraid of my own authenticity. We should be true to ourselves, our strengths. We must save ourselves, and do the right thing, the noble thing. We should not waiver in our commitment to transformation. We should not make ourselves responsible for others behavior- and I’m talking to myself. God knows, I’m intense and I seem a bit off, like people who think they know me wonder if they don’t. Because they don’t and yet they do. I will stop at nothing, no speck of dirt is too small for me to point out. In myself or in someone I’ve committed to supporting. It’s the only way to ever be sharp and vivid. Being alert. And so maybe I shake things up, say things that upset people. I take the chance to be hated out of my love- love bigger than two identities- I risk it all- and eventually I am hated. Or at least despised, or sometimes just replaced with a lighter, more user friendly version. People can only take so much- except for Bhagavan Das. People can criticize him all they want- the “bad bad things he’s done” but believe me, he’s been forged. He takes heat. He bows low. He has humility. He is fearless even when he’s fearful. And that means facing it. The thing we did. The thing we didn’t do. Why? And that means not being afraid to cut something useless away from us so we can move on. I never make anyone leave. They leave on their own. It’s only a matter of the pressure cooker, the love and their holding capacity. We all make mistakes. We all want control. It’s all a matter of where we are headed if we are honest and what we need to do to be most progressive in the face of a horribly treacherous world condition. You can always count on me. That’s the truth. Count on me, not how you want it, how I am. And it’s true, I can’t and I won’t prove anything. Your heart sees or it doesn’t. Anyway we struggle, it’s the hiding that is hard for us all, me included. The soft spots that require we cringe, we close our eyes, we simply walk away and don’t even say goodbye. It’s so painfully hopeless. It seems any movement is bound to hurt, and it is. Love hurts, happiness hurts, God hurts, hope hurts, success hurts. And because it always flips around to it’s counter we panic. The dual reality is that we cannot win. We cannot lose. We can only stagger and keep our eyes on the flame. The flame we can’t even see. Feeling it acutely, as deeply as hell goes. The mystical, unbearable aching that we may not be enough. That God may be above us, so unreachable that even death can’t possibly be enough. That we need control in order to hide, stay safe. Not hurt. Not look clearly at the situation as it is revealing itself. We are alone. We can only do so much for those in our lives. We must rise by sinking. Love is like the sun, we wait for it to rise and shine down on us, sink through us. We want to give and to be this unconditional light. For humans as we are, love is still just word, a fantasy. Whoever feels “it” has their own Interpretation depending on depth of character. So, we all feel this thing “love” somewhat differently. So we will all do different things in the face and in the name of this love. Some people will die for the one they love. Some people will claim to love you and when you do something they don’t like, say something they don’t want to hear- they’ll leave you. And they’ll have all kinds of good reasons. And that was all I was trying to say from the start. I want love to be more than just a word or a fantasy so that I don’t have to keep adapting to the lies- even my own- just because I would rather be dead than accept that love too may be a lie. That all words only exist in our head and our heart is only a confused victim of circumstance. I want the power to end the cold calculations that to me are not the bright flames of love but the dull mechanics of posturing. Maybe to achieve a result, conquer or acquire something or maybe just because that’s what this world has taught us. It causes me great sadness and grief to be caught in this cycle mostly because I know what I’m doing and like everything else, it hurts.

I spend nights and mornings wondering if I’m even alive. I spend days pretending I am. It hurts. As I wait for the approach of the inevitable shadow, I wonder who you are and what I can do for you. I have no answers to our suffering but that we rise by sinking. I can’t stop loving anybody even it’s only in words. I’m caught in this fantasy of the perfect union. The one true mistake. Shit happens. I shouldn’t be so desperate. I know none of this is real. I just wish love was. I know everything ends, I just hope true love doesn’t. And maybe that’s just between me and God. I know, it never ends…even when it should.

These contradictions are the quickening. What is true remains to be seen. Love is not blind at all,

love is personal.
Sharada Devi

6 thoughts on “love is personal”

  1. I don’t want to be cold
    I want to be cool, on the surface
    As meditations have been, warm… it takes me a while, but Cold Compassion. rains down on my head, like the sun, tears unseen, yet.
    Cold came up this last time- from my belly.
    Imagined a big flaming bullet… felt a small whale on fire, headed straight down
    β˜„οΈπŸ–€ The eclipse, we were one, cleaned me out. And then I read the blog and get worked up.

    OM the sun, that stays, bright like my love.

      1. I watched the moon dance
        With the sun

        So beautiful
        So real.
        Like Sharada Devi
        So beyond

        Now covered in new moon night
        Alone like the sun is, again
        Feeling the bright of it
        -No one brighter than the never-ending,
        Black and Sun
        Their Hum is quiet
        The black waiting for the sun. The sun, roaming the sky for the black. Only the eclipse, I watched them, felt them become one

        1. I watched the sun eclipsed by the moon
          and the moon seduced by the sun.
          Surrender everything to the light.
          Get beneath, underneath inside the
          death of them both. Is love.
          Personal and eternal. Beautiful words
          written by the mystical bird of fire
          and light who delivers death to
          breath himself into me, the hum
          of God wings. The only sound I hear,
          these wings coming for me. Over me
          beyond me, all over me. Truly forever
          this light we can’t see or hear,
          fills us like midnight fills the dawn.
          Bright sky. Blue eyes burning. Silver disc.
          The end of me. Ommmm

  2. When I saw the website was “temporarily unavailable” for me, I felt hope that it would be back up and if it wasn’t then I would have to accept that. Even if I don’t always respond, I like “connecting” here in this space. We are all speaking to each other. Awakening Seeds, Watering Seeds. Reading this post seemed I was hearing you talking to me directly about control. Sometimes it comes across as judgment as I harp at family members or my boyfriend and then feel guilty afterwards. My dad used to tell me “You’d make a good mother someday” in a sarcastic tone. Maybe because I expect others to do what is “logical” or “common sense” to me. If none of this is real, why am I bothering? I don’t know what I am doing but I know I can at least “control” me, sometimes and follow this special version of “love” that I feel. It hurts to see others suffering when I know they can do different, and it hurts to let go and let them. Lately, I’ve been coming more to terms with that though sometimes I lose control and have to harp. Here is me losing control and sharing with the rest of us control freaks in this holographic universe. Hollow even. Spiral on down! πŸ’–

    1. Dearest sweetest Bhakti Devi β˜€οΈ
      Happy to hear you from out of the silence!
      It was just a technical issue and now it’s fixed. You’re funny! Controlling others is so much more compelling than controlling ourselves…or maybe we can control them by controlling ourselves…all kinds of loop holes I’m finding! Haha. Out of necessity of course! See you soon and sending endless rays of Love β˜€οΈβ€οΈπŸŒˆ

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