More and more I come to understand the importance of love. It calls to me, beckons me into its pink folds, instructs me to fill my heart with its nectar. A love that welcomes all. A love that entreats each soul to care and gentle kindness.
The past has seen my brutishness, my vindictiveness, my conceits, my mistakes. It has seen me hurt the ones I love, withdraw myself from them, take of them. Yet still, I sense that God loves me. That I am forever a child of the Divine. And it is my duty, if nothing else, to love, to carry forth the spirit of God into each moment, each interaction, such that I infuse each breath, each word, each movement with love.
The poetry of my being tells me this is true. It tells me not to withhold my affections from anyone, and yet to respect each person’s boundaries including my own. To love them each in a manner befitting to my gentle nature. And never to let the pains of others harden my tender spirit.
“Art, it seemed to me, had sought in all ages to provide a language for the mute longing of the Divine within us.”
“I longed to put my ear nearer and nearer to the heartbeat of every living thing, so as to understand perhaps, perhaps one day be granted the gift of expressing this heartbeat in poetry which others would awaken to. This pulse would send them to the spring of all rejuvenation and purification. But this was only a fervent wish, a dream… I did not know whether it would be fulfilled and concentrated on what was close to hand:
I offered my love to every visible thing and set myself to regard nothing with indifference or contempt.”
-Hermann Hesse, Peter Camenzind