To The Light

There is much that flies within our minds in the atmosphere of love, but one knows simply, irrefutably, that to which all of the flies are drawn. Even the hardened heart of the worst criminal–branded by society from the start, never given a chance to pretend to be part of the charade–moves according to this universal underlying rhythm. I’ve always been convinced that even behind the worst, bestial murder there is a desperate attempt at understanding, there is a scream of despair that calls out in its unanswerable need. Because there is always a greater circle beyond that which we are confined. Down or up, in or out, it is all the same, eventually. There is not a substance in the world that cannot be transmuted by the widened irises of loving perception. There is not an enemy, there is not an other strong enough to withstand acceptance. The most imperialistic thing on the planet, who said that? Pir Vilayat Khan. I have no idea who he is, but he said, “No force anywhere on earth is as imperialistic as the human soul. It occupies and is occupied in turn, but it always considers its empire too narrow. Suffocating, it desires to conquer the world in order to breathe.” Even when you are in the deepest throes of ecstatic, passionate love, you want more, your thirst increases with every drop that you taste. Rumi wrote that “the life of lovers is in death.” Because in order to gain everything that you desire you must lose everything that you possess. It is a simple equation that doesn’t translate into the kind of math logic can comprehend. But it is known simply by observing every good thing that has happened in your life. I am speaking from personal experience, but I assume others have seen the same. The minute that I have ever assumed that I’ve had anything, I lose it. And when I have nothing, I will be suddenly blessed. It’s never enough simply to feel this, of course. In the darkest night of loneliness, with no where to turn to but myself, I can’t help but to despair, and in the thrashing about of my tortured need, I hurt myself or others in the temporary blindness in order to know where I need to go next. But then I move, and I move forward, and I move towards the sun.


Author: manderson

I live in NYC.

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