The love that I seeks is the Love that is seeking itself. Is there one human beingness who is not seeking this thing called love? They mightnt necessarily call it that it might be referred to as happiness, peace, contentment or harmony, but all these are qualities of love itself.
Love never tires of seeking itself. The whole drama of Life is this search. And when Love eventually returns to find itself, one realizes that it was never lost, ever it was just playing a kind of bittersweet game with itself. It was never, ever lost, for it is nothing but this inescapable Beingness.
Beingness unavoidable and unchanging is never unfaithful for one nanosecond. It never packs up and takes off with another lover; it is the Watching that notices lovers leaving on a fresh search for the love they havent yet recognized as their true Beingness. It never has an unkind word for me or anyone; it is the impartial Noticing of my unkind thoughts and thoughtless words. Its never depressed or alienated or flattened or disappointed; its the Awareing of and the accepting of, all my mental and emotional states. It never demands that I or the world be better, different, more peaceful; it embraces everything equally, without judgment.
To use these words noticing, awareing, embracing is completely incorrect actually, for it implies a split between Beingness and something other. In fact, in our experience, there is no such split. Beingness is all it is the hurt and betrayal and unkindness and violence as well as their perceived opposites.
This is the ultimate absolution. Beingness doesnt condone nor does it mean one wont act to help; it isnt passive or nihilistic. It is simply realized that whatever is happening, is Beingness unfolding itself.
It strikes me that one could never find any object or person that could measure up to these qualities of basic Beingness. I guess thats why after repeatedly trying to escape, and repeatedly making the return, I found that Beingness became Beloved for this gadabout. I rush to its immediacy without moving a hair. I am enfolded in its embrace. And I know it as I.
~ miriam louisa