The second installment I referenced last week, A Love Story: The Dance, needs a little more time to gestate.  Here’s a guided meditation I wrote a while back.  It ventures into that same neighborhood of love’s dance.

 

 

 

The Lover Speaks

 

         Picture yourself in a beautiful wooded area – on a gorgeous day.  The sun is shining, a gentle breeze is blowing, and the temperature is just right for a walk in the woods.

 

       Imagine you're on a path that heads toward a clearing.  As you draw closer to the clearing, you hear the sound of a voice.  You stop and listen.  The speaker is not visible to you – and from the sound of the voice, you can't tell if it's a male or a female.

 

       The speaker is talking out loud in soliloquy – as if rehearsing a message to a beloved.  The lover speaks:

 

      

       "Can I open my heart to the mystery of you?  Can I soften my being to the energy of you and to the many different ways your energy comes toward me?  Can I receive the truth of you in all its versions, in all its contradictions.  You seem so new to me – yet so anciently familiar.

 

       "Can I open to your divinity, as well as to your humanity – to your uniqueness, as well as to our oneness?

 

       "Can I allow you to matter, to complicate my already complicated life?  Can I trust myself to find balance – to make room for you, but not too much room – to give myself completely to you, without giving up myself – to love you and not lose me?

 

       "Can I approach you, each day, with fresh eyes – letting go of history, labels, preconceived categories and judgments – so that my gaze is filled with wonder and curiosity?  Can I see you with the eyes of an innocent waif, who has never before set sight on a human being – and, at the same time, see you with the eyes of the aged sage in me, who has seen it all and loves it all?

 

       "Can I come to you from the fertile void that allows the miracle of you to blossom without expectation or containment?

 

       "Can I notice the details of you with all my senses alive – eyesight, hearing, touch, taste and smell?  Can I also attend to you with that sixth sense that immediately recognizes your soul?

 

       "And, if we become lovers, can I stay fully present and engaged?  Can I keep my heart and eyes open and clear?  Can I surrender completely to the joy of discovering you?"

 

 

       The lover is now silent.  Quietly, without being noticed, you return down the path along the way you came – walking slowly, pondering what you heard.

 

       And as you walk, a question crystallizes:

         

           How do I attend to my beloved?