Love evolves in my life, broadening its branching to include all the world in its fruit, while narrowing its focus to the sustained, steady, and slow nurturing that comes from daily persistence. I once thought of love as a passionate, momentary outpouring of connection discovered from the sudden rupture between two worlds; this it certainly can be, but found more plentiful, more sustainably in the constant rediscoverance of love right here at home, in the one world that has been forged through struggle and dedication. The recognition that shambala is already here before me, and there is no need to hold myself apart. That perfection and attainment of bliss are not unattainable images of desire; they are at my fingertips, ready to expand with attention, flowers blooming within each step of awareness. They have always been there, pinnacled tips of contentment, but self-doubt gets in the way, blinding me to my own wonder. Forget about ideals; how much better is this reality fulfilled!