Sometimes You Know What is About to Happen…

Sometimes you just know. There is a sense that something is about to happen. Like the words that are about to come out of the mouth of your new special friend. The ones that come when you already know this special friend loves you. The words that actually say, “I love you.” You knew they were coming but they were a surprise nonetheless.

If you tried to stop them, if you tried to control them, if you tried to run from them, they were no longer there. Suddenly you have stopped them, controlling them destroys them, running from them makes them fly away and you wonder if they were ever there.

The words, a pale imitation of the truth are so important to that truth. Holding onto the words removes the meaning. What is “I love you” with no sentiment? What is that feeling without being expressed?

When the words are coming there is a sense that something is about to happen. You know it will happen, all you have to do is wait. All you have to do is let it come. All you have to do is be the witness. All you have to do is give in.

When you know it is about to happen, let it happen. Let it be what it should be. Let it be what it is meant to be. Surrender to the truth and become the truth.

We are the architects of our own frustration. We are the creators of all our problems. We try to control and dominate a wondrous feeling and a true and deeply moving event ceases to exist or becomes less than it is meant to be. The “I love you,” on the lips of the lover are stolen by grasping hands, spreading and disappearing vaporous love, without a chance to take its form. When we let them come, the forms grow and swell. With calm accepting patience they are soon ripened fruit, eager to share the juice of life.

All our accomplishments are generous gifts to us from something greater. All that is good in us leads us to surrender to the greater good. The surrender is the beginning of victory.

There is no victory over another. Two warriors dance the dance of battle, engaging one another, feeling one another, defining one another. They are one another’s companion on the road to excellence. There is great intimacy. One becomes the winner, the other is vanquished, his blood spilled upon the earth, surrendering the juice of his veins in complete defeat. A roar of victory goes out to the world decrying celebration, hiding a whimper of sudden loneliness.

There is no separation. There is no other. The successful warrior takes on the strength of the vanquished and consumes it with delight, knowing that his fallen combatant is his comrade in betterment and excellence. The fallen served the winner to become that which he is. The essence of the fallen is contained in the victor and the victory and is carried forth to the next battle.

The fallen lives on. There is no victory over another.

The fallen has served the victor and lives on through the victor’s deeds.

The fallen is immortal in his formlessness. He pervades all future victories and lives forever. All victors will fall. All victors will be preserved in their defeat. They gave their all and their all was taken. They are preserved in formlessness for all time. They serve and serve and serve. They express their excellence forever in complete sacrifice.

To serve one another we must allow our idea of, how ‘it’ should be, to die. It must be consumed by the endless other possibilities in order to be refined and perfected into the truest expression of love. To love, we must die, To give, we must die. To give completely, to love completely we must be willing to die. It may not be we who die but our ideas of who we are must certainly pass.

To become more and more of who we really are, our ideas of ourselves must die. The idea that we can control love will always present the illusion that love has died. All that ever truly happens is that our illusions become sacred when we look behind the false face they present and see the truth. This is the meaning of sacrifice, the sacred face that exists but passes in order to show us the truth.

When we are willing to sacrifice our illusions they become sacred in the face of truth. In their passing, they transform into love.