- John Donne
Federico García Lorca
There is no difficulty that enough love will not conquer, no disease that enough love will not heal, no door that enough love will not bridge, no wall that enough love will not throw down, no sin that enough love will not redeem… It makes no difference how deeply seated may be the trouble, how hopeless the outlook, how muddled the tangle, how great the mistake. A sufficient realization of love will dissolve it all. If only you could love enough, you could be the happiest and most powerful being in the world.
- Emmet Fox
We are not the same persons this year as last;
nor are those we love. It is a happy chance if we,
changing, continue to love a changed person….
- W. Somerset Maugham
In the slaughterhouse of love they kill only
the best, none of the weak or deformed.
Don’t run away from this dying.
Whoever’s not killed for love is dead meat.
— Courtney A. Walsh (via floodthestreetswithlovee)
A perfect creator builds in a mechanism that motivates us to learn about our relationship with the creator. We find our selves filled with desire to know perfect order, perfect love, perfect pleasure, perfect beauty, and we constantly strive to learn more, experience more, and become one with this perfection.
[…] we find ourselves on a constant search for the most beautiful, the most sensual, the most inspiring, the most enlightening, or the most creative human we can find. Notice that when we are in full rapture with such a human we often call them an “angel”, or a god or goddess, or place them on a pedestal and sometimes declare that we “cannot go on living without them”; because if they leave us it is as if our very reason for life goes with them. I do not believe this feeling is unwarranted, only misunderstood.
In reality no human can ever be there or produce for us all the time every time, yet this is what we want, ask for, and even give in promise to each other. No human can love us perfectly, yet the craving for this remains. No human can provide us with perfect happiness or pleasure, yet this too we seek. I suspect that when we live without a healthy sense of spiritual awareness or direction, we use each other to fulfill these desires which were meant to lead us to greater understanding of ourselves and our spiritual nature.
Just for a day
She won’t think
And the fish will forget
Their way about water
The sun will be suspended
Burning helpless in the orbit
The umbilical chord will coil
Time’s own neck
Just for a day
will place her lamp
between the sun and the moon
And the seven sages in the sky
Will get worried
Letters will fly away
Falling off the scripts
Creatures will forget their faces
And no mirrors will be there
Just for a day
You will go
Into an ethereal mist
For a moment
And darkness will befall
The whole of universe
Lava will gather
In the guts of earth
snails will burn
inside their shells
In just a day’s
her body will turn blue
from its own bite
Unless we are very, very careful, we doom each other by holding onto images of one another based on preconceptions that are in turn based on indifference to what is other than ourselves. This indifference can be, in its extreme, a form of murder and seems to me a rather common phenomenon. We claim autonomy for ourselves and forget that in so doing we can fall into the tyranny of defining other people as we would like them to be. By focusing on what we choose to acknowledge in them, we impose an insidious control on them. I notice that I have to pay careful attention in order to listen to others with an openness that allows them to be as they are, or as they think themselves to be. The shutters of my mind habitually flip open and click shut, and these little snaps form into patterns I arrange for myself. The opposite of this inattention is love, is the honoring of others in a way that grants them the grace of their own autonomy and allows mutual discovery.
- Anne Truitt
In Zen literature the word intimacy is often used as a synonym for enlightenment. In the classical Zen enlightenment stories, a monk or a nun is reduced simultaneously to tears and laughter as he or she suddenly recognizes that nothing in this world is separate, that each and every thing, including one’s own self, is nothing but the whole, and that the whole is nothing but the self. What are such stories telling us if not that love is much wider and deeper than an emotion? Love is the fruition of, the true shape of, one’s self and all that is.
- Norman Fischer, Taking Our Places: The Buddhist Path to Truly Growing Up
In the end these things matter most: How well did you love? How fully did you love? How deeply did you learn to let go?
- Siddhartha Gautama
Hereto I adjoin a parable. There were a certain man and wife; the woman by accident lost an eye, and was sorely troubled thereat. Her husband then said to her, “Wife, why are you troubled? “She answered, “It is not the loss of my eye that troubles me, but the thought that you may love me less on account of that loss.” He said, “I love you all the same.” Not long after he put one of his own eyes out, and came to his wife and said, “Wife, that you may believe I love you, I have made myself like you: I, too, now, have only one eye.” So men could hardly believe that God loved them till God put one of His eyes out, that is took upon Himself human nature, and was made man.
- Meister Eckhart’s Sermons, THE ANGEL’S GREETING
And when two people have loved each other
see how it is like a
scar between their bodies,
stronger, darker, and proud;
how the black cord makes of them a single fabric
that nothing can tear or mend.
- For What Binds Us by Jane Hirshfield