Love 101

December 2 2017

I’ve been meditating regularly for the past few months. I find that it helps calm the mind and energize the body.  I don’t know WHY it works — it just DOES. Most of my meditations have been of the “guided” variety, where a recorded voice presents a series of images, suggestions, and guidelines to enable the participant to enter the Alpha state of consciousness. Sometimes I feel like I go even further. Sometimes it just a nice break from the day-to-day routine. In any case, I feel that these are ultimately beneficial, bringing rewards unforeseen.

One of these guided meditations focuses on the heart. It was produced by an intuitive empath who has her own YouTube channel, as well as a shared channel with a healer. I have meditated a few times by listening to this video, and today I was drawn toward it again. What drew me toward it? Spirit? I don’t know for sure, but what happened was truly eye-opening.

If you know me, you might wonder why this focus on the heart. If you don’t know me, well let’s just say my heart has always been my strongest attribute. For those few who I am privileged to call friend or family, my heart is wide open. The heart chakra (or  Anahata, its original Sanskrit name) resonates with a bright green energy. I’m very drawn to green, so this makes perfect sense to me. So why the heart centered meditation?

I really didn’t know at first. But after the first five minutes, a wave of unexpressed sadness came over me — like tsunami. It wasn’t like despair. It was more about knowing that you are loved but your heart isn’t able to accept that love. My dog, Snowball, jumped up on the sofa, knowing as he does, that I needed his companionship on a very basic level. There were genuine tears rolling down my cheeks, and to this pure being of unconditional love, they needed to be kissed away. This wasn’t about my ability to love, but rather to ALLOW myself to be loved.

Now that I look back on it, the past seven years after Lane’s passing has been like a holding pattern for me. The grief slowly heals, and then you settle into your comfort zone, content with the ways things are. You learn to accept the unacceptable. To transmute your own needs into service for others. But down deep, there is a child who needs to feel love. The arms are outstretched. They are stopped by a wall they helped to build. They fold inward. Time stops.

Now I know it doesn’t have to be this way. I’m ready to move on.

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