The Art of Loving

Loving is an art – not act, but art – of Grace. The art of loving. It cultivates, improves, grows, shifts, expands and illuminates. It requires practice. The art of loving is one without stop or start. Bleeding from one sitting to the next, one embrace to the next, one lock of eyes to the next, it is every element. Permeating solid structures, infusing liquid, clinging to air.

The more I love, and I mean in every way, shape and form love, the more natural it becomes. As an act, without intention or thought, it flows from my very being. Home with my mom, the human counterpoint to my own soul, I am quite phenomenally cocooned in a metaphysical envelope of love from arrival to departure. I feel my energy field expanding, my capacity to love getting stretch marks and threatening to burst at the seems. Beneath a star-speckled canopy of inky night sky, held in the gurgling warmth of the backyard spa tub, quite conversations of depth, merit, spirituality, consciousness ensue in the rising steam. Side by side, pedaling bikes up and down wine country backroads, single filing at the sound of a car approaching, we continue these soul-to-soul discussions. Winding the soft, well-trodden avenues of the vineyards we call home, the dog’s tongue trailing behind her, her ears flapping in her eyes, feet thromping without abandon, we add brushstrokes to the ongoing dialogue that is the love between us. I marvel at the exquisiteness that it is to share this life with someone who knows me so completely, who made me, whose unconditional adoration and support float me above the earth like an angel.

I leave home, and I fill in the aching physical emptiness with the warmth of that love, cover it with the threads of our cocoon. I carry on. I plug into my phone and listen, as I drive, to a video message from my soul mate sister across the ocean in Australia. My eyes burn with tears as the love pours from every orifice of my astral body. I marvel at the mind-blowing gift it is to have someone in my life, another someone, who understands my every fiber with such clarity. I marvel at the insignificance of the ocean between us. My soul balloons and shrinks, just before bursting, in time to the pulse of my beating heart, the expansion of my breathing lungs. My spirit rests on the brink of rupturing from sheer love.

I take a hike with my dear friend. Some divine intervention gently slips the idea into the crown of my being that perhaps she is free. I send her a message. We meet at our favorite trail. Mist clings to the trees. A reprieve before the ensuing thunderstorm. The lake sits placid, the birds rejoice. We fill our lungs to the brim with mountain air. We spill our souls into the atmosphere and let our words drip down the parallel lines of energy connecting us, nestling in the soil and sprouting upon contact.

The more that I love, the more love is me. The more that I act, the more I cultivate the art that it is to love as me, the more I embody love. The more love becomes me. The more love exchange becomes as vital and as unconscious as breathing.

There is no separation. The love that I have for the woman who lent me her womb, who has wiped my tears and held my hand and fought battles seen and unseen for the wellbeing of my innocent spirit…the love that I have for the powerful force of divine femininity who I have spent so many lifetimes with, and somehow discovered in this life despite living a complete world apart…the love that I have for the beautiful and gentle spirit with whom I ascended mountains today, and am blessed to celebrate milestones with in the suspended perfection of Mother Nature…Mother Nature herself, and the symphony of bliss she weaves by simply being, the gift to live in a place where I am constantly astounded by her Grace and glory…there is no separation. These loves are one. They are living me as I am living them, and they further become part of my sacred web, my cellular network, my spiritual matrix the more that I shine my light upon them.

As the brilliant Danielle LaPorte says, putting words to a vibration I have powerfully felt in my being for as long as I’ve been sentient,

“Things are sacred because we say they are, it’s that simple, that clear, that dear. There is an eternal standing offer from the universe for you to exercise your divinity. Giving blessings is an elegant solution to apathy and disconnectedness. Blessing heats that flame in your heart and helps us all rise up the evolutionary scale. SANCTION THINGS WITH YOUR LOVE. Give the great offering of wishing the best outcome for someone. Take their problems to your God. Petition for karmic clemency.”

Things are sacred because we say they are. It’s that simple.

Love is our existence because we say it is. 

If you wake up one day and decide to stop drinking coffee, or to start blessing every doorway you pass through, or deciding to say a prayer of gratitude at every red light you hit during your commute…it will take an adjustment period. You will forget. It will challenge you. But, in time, the act will become an art. The wonky, new habit awkwardness will steady into skillful execution. There will be a grace and fluidity about it, because you will have become it. No longer will the act of not drinking coffee be a big event because you simply won’t be drinking it. No longer will you have to think before blessing each doorway, no longer will there be an “oh yeah,” before giving thanks at a stoplight. The power of the mind is profound. The power of the heart blows that out of the water. The power of Spirit, when we tap into it, is other-worldly.

The best part? We have the opportunity to exercise this magic every, single, day. Right now. A minute ago. Half an hour from now. It is ongoing. We are in a grand classroom, a never-ending practice space! We are in it, right now. There’s nothing to wait for, nothing that needs creating. The opportunity to love, to be love, to cultivate the art of loving is in your every tissue as you sit there existing, right this moment. Pause…listen. Notice that silence when you stop, for just a millisecond, the steady throne of quite between breaths. The acute fullness of what it is to be alive, to be you…right now, in this body, in this moment. The overwhelming privilege that it is to hold in your palms, your cells, your consciousness the key to such sacred practice.

Light us up with your art. Light us up with your love. Recognize and step into the power that you are…a walking exhibit, the art of loving in motion.

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